Goats

The family.

"Here comes everybody," said G.K. Chesterton about the Catholic Church. And the white goat in the back right of this picture is part of the Witness Protection Program.

Banana Cream Pie

Today’s miracles: childlike joy and a unique variation of banana cream pie.

Today’s mishaps: my car in a ditch, flip-flops run over by a rototiller, and a reminder that my goat cheese tasted like lemony yuck.

So again I reached my hands to the sunblind sky and shouted, “God, you made me! Thank you! Amen!”

My eyes were primed to find excitement amidst the mundane in my morning reflection from Jesus Calling:

“I long to make your life a glorious adventure, but you must stop clinging to old ways. I am always doing something new within My beloved ones. Be on the lookout for all that I have prepared for you.”

After the farmer removed my car from the ditch, and we laughed about my quadruple-y doused lemon juice goat cheese, and I hoed my flip-flops out of the ground on which I was “earthing” – walking barefooted to weed the garden, a miracle happened.

(Actually all those instances were miraculous, but this one was delicious.)

The very great miracle happened around lunchtime. A playful volunteer joked that the farm chapel he painted yellow reminded him of banana cream pie and he wished he could have some. I retorted that I’d see what I could whip up in the kitchen for lunch, but admitted we didn’t have the ingredients and turned to walk back to the farm kitchen.

God had the fixings, however, and lavished those sweet gifts on his children in simple profundity.

Two French volunteers walked up the front stone steps and brought a cardboard box of food to the kitchen. I laughed when I saw bananas inside. I unpacked the rest and came across a black bag…filled with half a pound cake! And I remembered the whipped cream in the fridge…now that’s what I call banana cream pie!

One of the other painters said at lunch it was too bad the banana cream pie lover’s wish wasn’t granted…yea, man, because dessert wasn’t out yet!

Surprise! God makes miracles with the simplest of ingredients: joy, love, childlike faith and creativity. He inspired me to make that little dessert delight, but I wouldn’t have had the idea without the clever comment from that volunteer.

And we were all happy.

The banana cream pie man told me about adventures in daily life, that everyday inconveniences could be looked at as ways to battle the enemy or amuse oneself. He also shared a G.K. Chesterton quote about childlike exaltation in the tedium of life.

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again;’ and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.

But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that He makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.

It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

Last year, I cried of exhaustion from monotony, and a friend told me, “Do it again!” She reminded me to go to God for help again with the enthusiasm of a child who asks to play his favorite game or have his favorite book read to him for the umpteenth time (I’ve blogged on this previously).

So this morning was not the first time my car was immobilized. It was stuck in a snowbank three times this winter. And once, I drove a golf cart into a ditch…

And I thought, “Again? Really? Again?"

And God was like, “Yes again! Do it again! Get your car to move again! Practice patience and depend on me again! You are humbled again! You are not God (again!).”

The goat cheese I made was ruined because I was distracted and didn’t follow the directions. And I thought of other meals I destroyed in distraction. And God said, “Do it again! Forgive yourself again!”

Dirt covered my flip-flops so I could not see them. And I thought of the countless items St. Anthony found when I’d lost patience and given up the search on my own. And God said “Again! Do it again! Don’t give up the search! I am with you, here, very close! Again and again!”

God reminded me in today’s mistakes that I need forgiveness again and again. When I get impatient and think I can depend on myself, He shows me He is the only way to joy. He never changes—and that is not boring!

When I open my eyes like a child to her Daddy, He shows me again and again that when I depend on Him, He helps me and gives me boundless joy.

Today He showed me through an inventive banana cream pie and the miracle of a humorous volunteer's  joke that He loves me.

Today the sun rose. Today I am alive. Today I thank God for the miracles and miraculous mishaps that help me grow again and again.

Painted chapel

Independence Day

Independence Day. Religious freedom. Land of the pilgrims’ pride.

This isn’t day two of my Italy/France pilgrimage. It’s day I don’t know what in the pilgrimage of my life. (I’ll get back to the Europe trip soon).

I’m on a farm now for a month. I milked a goat this morning and I went for a walk/run in the dark rain last night with a flashlight. Three days ago, my apartment lease ended and my parents’ divorce was finalized.

The joy of this farm life mixed today with a sad feeling of homelessness, while I also thought of the meaning of light in darkness, and the Truth of liberty and religious freedom.

A few questions ran round my head:

Where is my home? What is independence? What is religious freedom?

I have no place “back home.” This feeling of homelessness isn’t a new thing in my life, but it isn’t more comfortable this time either. Is my home America? Or a building where I feel surrounded by love?

What about independence? I’ve been self-reliant many times in my life. And emancipated from my parents for many years. But is that the fullness of liberation?

There’s no machine gun held to my head when I attend Mass (thank God), but I know that chaplains are persecuted in the U.S. military (yes, in America). I can practice my religion in this country (the reason we celebrate Independence Day), but for how long? And is the legality of religious practice the whole of religious freedom?

This week I milked a goat and cleaned someone else’s fridge, but I lived by others’ schedule and that of God in nature and animals. I am tired. I cried about the loss of my own comfortable, safe-feeling timetable. I wish I had my own home and a self-made daily program.

But I grow here. And practically, right here, right now, I am home. Because my real home is eternal. I don’t really belong anywhere on this earth.

Also, the Eucharist is my home. Jesus is the source of peace in my body. He nourishes my weak little sad heart and gives me strength, mighty strength like that of a horned mama goat ready to bust a cap on anyone who might tryn mess wit her young. (My mama Mary is also mighty--she makes sure I get grace to receive daily communion.)

Right now freedom is naming my needs. I am independent when I tell someone else: I need daily exercise, healthy food, prayer and time to write. Why is this liberty? Because if I don’t name these simple needs, I let the desire for them fester inside and I get angry at myself that I didn’t voice them and at others that they can’t read my mind – that’s crazy slavery.

My freedom now is a little voice inside me that is me and God together. It says, “I love you. You are beautiful. You are awesome. You matter. I’m so proud of you.” Every day I strive to grow in the awareness and acceptance that even if I am criticized, I am still loved by God. And even if the basic needs I think are necessary aren’t met (like a regular schedule so I can feel secure and in control), God still takes care of me and continues to provide ways for me to grow – even in the midst of my discomfort, frustration, depression and anxiety.

And what about religion? I need to remember to pray every day that the American people will preserve the right to celebrate Mass in this country, as well as other religious freedoms we enjoy. And when that is taken away, I pray that I will have the strength to call God my savior in the midst of all persecution. On a personal and universal level, I pray that God removes obstacles that others and I have put in my own heart that prevent me from the free practice of religion in myself. If I am not free to worship in and through my own person, I will not care about religious freedom in my country or the world.

I used a flashlight to see through the darkness when I exercised last night. It was enough to lead me home.

My home is not just America or the house of my youth. Independence is not self-reliance or separation from the family. Religious freedom is not just the ability to attend Mass without fear of annihilation.

My home is heaven. My independence is the result of communal life. And my religious freedom is the liberty to follow God’s will in my heart, mind and life through the Eucharist, the core of my being.

Thank you, God, for the fourth of July to remind me of flickers of hope -- like the beam of a flashlight or bursts of fireworks -- on this pilgrimage to a free, independent life with You, my eternal home.

Pilgrimage Day 1

Praise the Lord for a sweet lil pilgrimage to Rome, Assisi and Lourdes at the beginning of June! I’m most grateful for the people God put with me on the trip – especially a group of Texans who kept it real with me throughout the journey. More about them later…now here’s Day 1.

I began my Italy/ France pilgrimage in Rome with Mass at St. Mary Major Church. I looked at the mosaic angels on the ceiling and thought of things that fly. I remembered the airplane that took me overseas and the stuffed toy cockatoo I made for a friend’s baby.

I thought about how much love and money was poured into those beautiful mosaic beings flocked in the heavens and I thought about the perseverance of artists so devoted to their craft and its impact on  generations that they persisted without the assurance they’d see the finished masterpiece. That’s way more perseverance than it took to create little Clarence the Cockatoo, though he’s filled great love.

And I thought of God who has a whole legion of angels fighting/flighting for me—a work of art more precious than any statue or fresco in Italy. God, grant me the perseverance to see myself as a work of art flyin high with your love in my life!

The Memorare reminds me to fly to Mary, who begs all the graces I need from her Son in the work of art in my soul.

“Remember O most Gracious Virgin Mary that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help or sought your intercession was left unaided.”

God give me the grace to fly to you again and again as you continue to clean out of my heart all that holds me back from soaring into the sunset of your resurrection. And when I die, let my soul fly to you with the swiftness of an angel or cockatoo, of the same genus perhaps as the dove which St. Benedict watched leave his sister St. Scholastic’s body when she died.

I was also grateful for Sunday Mass that day, which I didn’t think we’d have due to the arrival time, and for a young Texan woman who became my friend. She was the same age my sister would have been if she were alive and she was born on St. Anthony’s feast day -- because St. Anthony is the man and he loves me.

Thank you God for simple lovin and flyin friends in Rome.

Flying high

Yes, I smell like a fresh spring breeze. Estée Lauder outfitted me with a free spritz of "pleasures" perfume at the airport store.

I considered the added pleasure of a complimentary manicure  with the sample polish but was dissuaded by another woman in the store who applied sample cream to face. She told me once she was so zealous in her application that guilt got her and she went back to buy the expensive stuff. I didn't want to face the same cosmetic contrition.

What to do with a three hour layover...

Calsthetics were completed in the restroom; I did stretches and 30 jumping jacks. And inspired another woman to stretch as well -- we discussed airport exercise classes: probably a genius/bank business venture.

I ate a complete dinner including salad, chips and peanut M&Ms. And avoided the pricey "smart" water thanks be to God-- the woman at the checkout told me point blank that it was six dollars. I wonder if she instinctively knew my budget or if she gives everyone that save/sage advice. I asked for tap water instead and the guy who filled the plastic cup warned me, "It's not healthy water."

Thank you, New York City. Please excuse me while I get out my Bunsen burner, travel-sized collapsible pot and boil it. (This facet-fresh water had a crisp minerally taste a grade above the water from the house where I was raised).

Other fun adventures include people I encountered. 

I observed a woman who donned a shirt with the wings on the back--almost as if she was ready to run down the runway and spread wide her arms. Here we go… Ready for lift off!

---
Another woman I met had a different kind of heavenly experience.

My seat buddy on the flight to New York City was overcome with Believer joy. She is a motivational speaker who teaches kids how to make goals, encourage one another, and the live as champions through a presentation that includes yo-yo and magic tricks.

We shared stories of how God acted in our lives, and how His timing is impeccable. 

A couple years ago, she heard a voice inside her tell her to apply for a job offer she received in a random email she had deleted because she thought it was scam. 

The Spirit told her to apply for the job using her phone. She called the company and it turned out it was the last day to apply and there was one spot left. 

The job took her to a different state two weeks before she had planned to go overseas. 

She originally balked at the offer to stay stateside, but again heard a voice inside her say "You will meet your husband there." And she did--eight months later, right when she put in her job resignation.

Now she is overseas for the same amount of weeks that her husband has to travel for his job. Again the timing was Divinely planned.

Thank you, God, for this woman, and for the airport employee who tracked down my bag after I lost the luggage slip, and the lady who escorted me and another gentleman (who let me follow him) to a different building so we could find our departure gate.

My sister and her fiancé took me to the airport and watched me all the way through security-- they waved with enthusiasm, and sent me a love text .

All these encounters are little signs of God's enormous love for me. Thank you, Father, for escorting me on this trip.

Little Lovely Light

Today’s Morning Prayer reminds me again to praise God and focus on the Good News.  

“Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”

“Whatever is lovely”... I wonder if a journalist was ever asked in a job interview, “Tell me about a story you covered that was lovely.”

Yet there is something compelling about lovely stories. Not overly sentimental, Utopian fluff, but real accounts of simple perseverance and everyday valor.

A few such stories have come across my being recently. (I don’t have a desk; rather face to face interactions with people are mostly where I get my stories).

My co-worker got a new job as a headmaster at our sister school. He taught for six years at the school where I teach and is perfect for this new job. His students’ witness is also a testament to his formation of them and the students’ faith in the power of prayer. They prayed for him all year for a “special intention”—which could be anything; their consistent appeal was heard by God.

Two friends got the jobs for which I interviewed this year before I decided to teach again next year. I am so happy for them! The jobs are interesting and they are well fitted for the positions.

A friend who has lived as a single parent for five years, was not religious and was adverse to marriage is excited at the prospect of a relationship with a Christian man.

Another friend got a new job closer to her house.

And all of my seven first graders were promoted to second grade! Before the graduation Mass last Friday I asked my students what we need to remember when we are in a public forum.

“To act as butlers,” one of my students said with the confidence that comes from a year of training in this subject.

“Ambassadors,” I corrected with such enthusiasm that she probably thought she said that word herself.

I also went to a farm last weekend and talked with a man who had Asperger’s. He interacted with the world in a refreshing way.

“Do you know that person?” asked another farm guest of this man.

“Hmm. I don’t know. Let me see,” he said as he quickly got up and left the room to go look at the person this other farm guest mentioned.

He got up to see. That is lovely and honorable. He took the question seriously and acted. He recognized the importance of each person.

Another man took care of the bees. He opened the hives to show me and another guest the secret inner workings and hours later, brought honey combs to us so we could taste the first fruits of the season. It took him a while to check the hives, which he did with gentle attentiveness, then he thought of sharing his love for the bees and their products with us.

St. John wrote, “Walk while you have the light, so that darkness may not overcome you.” (12:35). Flickers of light appear every day. If I catch them and watch them glow like fireflies in a peanut butter jar, the darkness will fade away.

Thank you God for Little. Daily. Light. Lovely Good News.

HPE

HPE: He Provides Everything. That's my choice today in the license plate game.