The Good Samaritan Seen Anew

This is straight from my morning devotions in Divine Intimacy this morning. It was so beautiful I had to share it.

"A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, who also stripped him, and having wounded him, went away, leaving him half dead" (Lk  10:23-37).  That unfortunate man represents each one of us. We too have encountered robbers on our way. The world, the devil, and our passions have stripped and wounded us. Who can say that he does not have in his own soul some wound, more or less deep, left by temptation or sin? But, on our route, there was also a good Samaritan, rather the Good Samaritan par excellence, Jesus, who, moved by compassion for our state, brought us help. With infinite love He bent over our open wounds, curing them with the oil and wine of His grace. The oil represents its gentleness and the wine its vigor. Then He took us in His arms and brought us to a safe place, that is, He entrusted us to the maternal care of the Church, to which He has consigned the price of our ransom, the fruit of His death on the Cross.

The parable of the good Samaritan thus delineates the story of our redemption, a story which is ever in action and which is renewed every time we draw near to Jesus, humbly and regretfully showing Him the wounds of our souls. It is actuated in a very special way in the Mass,  where Jesus presents to the Father the price of our salvation, and renews His immolation for our benefit. We should go to Mass in order to meet Him, the Good Samaritan, to invoke and receive His sanctifying action. The more we recognize our own misery and our need of redemption, the more will Jesus apply the fruits of redemption to us. When He comes to us in Holy Communion, He will heal our wounds, not only our exterior wounds, but our interior ones also, abundantly pouring into them the sweet oil and strengthening wine of His grace.

See what I mean? Beautiful! And it calls to mind one of the songs we used to sing in Summer Break Players, a multimedia performing, traveling group I was in for several years. Basically the youth group for my church, but really cool. I cannot remember at the moment who wrote the song or unfortunately what the title is (hey, it's been 30+ years - I remember the lyrics!); I'll give due credit when I search it out.
Okay, the song is called My Eyes Are Dry by the amazing Keith Green who left us much too soon but is adding a little somethin'-somethin'  to the praise around the Throne.

My eyes are dry
My faith is old
My heart is hard
My prayers are cold
And I know how I ought to be
Alive to you and dead to me.

What can be done for an old heart like mine?
Soften it up with oil and wine.
The oil is you, your spirit of love.
Please wash me anew in the wine of your blood.

Legacy Box - Wedding Day

I've gotten to the "Your Courtship and Marriage" section in my Legacy Box now.  Yesterday's entry said, "Tell about your wedding day." This is what I wrote:

I had "planned" an outdoor wedding since I could first start dreaming of my wedding. We were going to marry in the amphitheater at Brown County State Park, with blooming dogwoods and redbuds in the background. But May 11, 1996 was 50 degrees Fahrenheit and drizzly so Bill decreed the wedding would be held indoors at the Abe Martin Lodge for the comfort of our guests. It really was the only logical decision to make. But he didn't consult me before making it! If he could make a decision that so drastically altered the wedding day without asking the bride, what did that foreshadow for the marriage? I very nearly did not go through with it. What he saw as a logical decision in just another day I saw as decisions continually made for me for the rest of my life without my input or consent no matter what plans I've already made. We've grown.

Now. A little more information. Bill stayed in the lodge the night before our wedding with his family and I stayed in a cabin with my folks. No phone. (Or cell phones.) We stuck with the STUPID old chestnut of "bad luck for groom to see bride before wedding" (who thought that nonsense up anyway?). The Abe Martin Lodge was our put-into-the-invitation backup plan. I did not hear of the change of plans from Bill (obviously), but from our wonderful photographer. I did not react well. Bill was surrounded by people; his family, early guests, our best man, my brothers (who served as ushers), the minister, the families of these assorted personages, not to mention the Lodge employees who took such good care of us. Many of these people, I found out YESTERDAY, were pressuring Bill to move the venue inside. He claims he can't remember who in specific. I was ALONE. My parents were decorating the amphitheater and my matron of honor, my Aunt Becky, chose to dress in her camper. I guess it didn't occur to her I might need supported.

So I'm preparing myself, absolutely torn as to whether I should marry this man at all. I cried all the first make-up off. I prayed a great deal. What carried the day was putting myself in his position. I knew this man I loved so much was very logical AND very thoughtful. With the weather the way it was, in his mind there really wasn't another choice. And while I was thinking 20 minutes on cool stone seats wasn't out of anyone's capabilities, he was truly thoughtful of our guests. These lovely folks had taken time out of their lives to share in our happiness - the least we could do is make them comfy.

So I married him. I've never regretted it. Shortly before I entered the Church we convalidated  our marriage in the Church. No outdoor weddings for our children; if God calls them to marriage they will be married in the church. Bill had always dreamed of being married in a church; we both made some compromises in our wedding. I hope I teach our children this: the wedding is just one day. Prepare for the marriage.

Legacy Box - Dad

From my Legacy Box this morning; Do you and your father share any interests? Tell about your relationship as a child and as an adult.

We share many interests: the outdoors, walking, woodlore, animals, reading, writing, poetry, watching sports, a conservative viewpoint, a Christian worldview.

I had and still have a good relationship with my father. There are things on which we disagree; as a child I just didn't discuss those topics. As a teen I badgered him with "what-if" until I got the answer I wanted. Now as adults we can gently tease each other about those issues, recognizing our differences in love with humor, letting the other know it's alright. The differences can stay because the love will stay, too.

My Dad could also cast me into tears with just a look. He never had to spank me - if he let me know he was disappointed in me I was devastated.

LISTEN. I love to listen to my Dad. Sometimes he liked to talk; he's gotten more garrulous as he's gotten older. And there are gems in there.

The Lenten Pilgrimage

"Lent is a journey, a pilgrimage! Yet, as we begin it, as we make the first step into the 'bright sadness' of Lent, we see - far away - the destination. It is the joy of Easter; it is the entrance into the glory of the Kingdom. And it is the vision, the foretaste of Easter, that makes Lent's sadness bright and our Lenten effort a 'spiritual spring.' "
                              --Fr. Alexander Schememann, Great Lent


This quote I found  this morning in one of the many books I have going right now. ( A Monastic Year: Reflections From A Monastery by Brother Victor-Antoine D'Avila-Latourrette. ) It sounds so...HOPEFUL. So...not me.

I am having a difficult Lent. That's an understatement. I am having a humanly impossible Lent. Of course, that's the idea. It's supposed to be humanly impossible. Everything comes from God; what we partake of, what we abstain from, the courage and perseverance to do both....

I have bipolar disorder. For a month now I have been in a semi-hypomanic state. I'm much more "comfortable" with a depressive state; it's what I'm used to - it's familiar - I get to sleep! The state I'm experiencing now...no sleep, but no bursts of energy that generally comes with hypomania. High anxiety, irritability; my language has deteriorated to the point where growling swear words is the height of conversation. My poor family. I struggle against spending my husband's hard-earned money. Yet there's no non-stop flow of creativity that usually comes in a manic state. All the pains - none of the "perks". And it's lasting FOREVER! My body generally can't sustain mania for more than a week. It is exhausting.

But it is Lent. And I never know where the disease ends and plain old sin begins. So I spend time in the confessional - wishing it had a revolving door. And I beg forgiveness from my Beloved and our children - glad they have short memories and long mercies.

Lent this year is an endless sand dune; the Easter destination a blurry mirage. Even sundays do not bring an oasis to my soul. I am dry, arid, parched. With every step I climb the shifting sands throw me back. But we're half-way there somehow. I am crawling on hands and knees... forward...the only direction I care to go. God will surely bless the efforts. I will arrive at Easter a dessicated pilgrim with grit under her nails; but I will ARRIVE!

Please pray for my Spiritual spring as I pray for yours.

I'll Get By...

I am an insecure person who compares her own accomplishments, children, and house to others. I'm a shy introvert who usually waits for others to approach me to initiate conversation, plans, friendship. So Jill's chapter entitled "No More Perfect Friends" had much to teach me.

Every mom needs a community of mothers around her. I know this. In my last home, while nursing my second baby, I struggled with the temptation to kill myself. I was suffering post-partum depression, something people with bipolar disorder are prone to, but I was unaware of both conditions. It would be another few years before a diagnosis and medication would bring some blessed relief. Adding to the suicidal notions was lack of sleep (as all mothers of newborns can attest) and ISOLATION. I had no friends. My husband had to go to work daily. My parents lived in another state. "No one" understood me. A mothering community would have helped so much.

Where I now live, I joined a Mom's Group as it was forming. What a blessing it has been! These ladies have saved my life, figuratively AND literally. I made incredible friends. When I had surgery, they brought meals for my family. When I was going through a depression around Easter one year, they got together and brought baskets for my kids with great papers in some of the eggs..."Mommy loves you"..."Let's snuggle"..."Let's Play a Game".... It "forced" me to spend time with the reasons I was struggling against ending it all. They also brought visitors for me - not caring I was in my bathrobe with stringy hair. They have brought extra Christmas gifts for my kids in lean years. Through the grace of God I've been able to reciprocate some gifts.

I am a "here I am" person, waiting for people to come to me. Since reading this chapter I'm trying to be a "there you are!" person. Friendships need to be nurtured to be sustainable with an investment of time and energy. But friends are human. If you expect imperfection, you won't be disappointed when it shows up; you'll be a more grace-filled, loving friend. My insecurity says I'm not worth someone's time and energy, but confidence (who I am in God) says I am valuable and have something to offer to a friendship. I am not perfect, but I am in the process of being perfected. Same with my friends.

One of my friends was brought to tears recently when things didn't go so well at the IEP meeting at her son's school. She came to me. What a gift! But at first I didn't treat it as a gift - I treated it as though she came to me for advice. Another friend and I sort of ganged up on her, telling her what she should do. Fortunately, I came to my senses, apologized, hugged her, asked if I could email her later. Yes. In the email, I apologized again and encouraged her where she was, reminding her she already knew what was best for her family, and assuring her of my prayers. She was very gracious in forgiving me and the encouragement was just what she needed. I have much to learn to be a good friend.

Grace happens when we allow another person to be human. Encourage one another even as we make different choices in our personal lives. Now excuse me, I need to decide which friend to get in touch with today....

Our Legacy

In Mom's Group several years ago we made a legacy box. It's a recipe box with index cards of questions for us moms to answer  concerning childhood, courtship, marriage, motherhood, and spirituality. I've finally gotten around to answering the questions in this box. Today's question: How are your children the same? How are they different?

A little background; when we bless our children we say, "(child's name), my beloved son/daughter, you are a joy and a delight and I thank God for you. May Almighty God bless you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit."

Primo is delightful, with a quirky sense of humor and a ready smile or laugh. He is teaching himself to respond appropriately to the emotions of others which, because of the Aspergers, is one of his weak points. This shows resiliency and courage.

Secunda is a delight, loving and patient, with my own sarcastic wit (only nicer). She does get overwhelmed easily if she is rushed and so must learn to manage her time wisely.

Tertio is a delight - exuberant, boisterous, and "all boy". He must learn to breathe; well and deeply, when faced with an uncertain situation and CALMLY ask questions.

Quarta is delightful; she is graceful, charming, just a bit shy. She will have to put herself forward more as she matures, so people outside the family can appreciate her gifts.

Quinta is a delight, sweet with a ready laugh. Willing to help. She needs to overcome intransigence about everything else, learn to manage her emotions, so she can feel more self-assured.

Our children are joys and delights and we thank God for each one of them. They each have challenges to face to become all God intends. They are beloved.

I Beg To Differ...Oh, Wait.

"There Are No Perfect Marriages." Well, I beg to differ. MY marriage is perfect; MY man is perfect; I have NO complaints. Although...he does leave the cabinet doors open.  He doesn't tell me when he spends money so our checkbook is always in arears. Our libidos don't match. He...oh...wait.

Expectations really get us into trouble in the marriage arena, especially if we're fed a steady diet of fairy tale romances (or trashy romances). "Expectations are preconceived resentments." When I married I naively thought all men were innately like my dad; able to do all household and car repairs in an afternoon. That is not where my husband's strengths lie. And I'm sure I am not at ALL what he expected.

We have faced incredible struggles together: six hard, stressful pregnancies that sometimes held dangers for both Mom and baby; the loss of a precious baby girl; poverty (only by America's standard's); grueling medical bills; discouraging diagnoses of us and our children; my mental illness and trying to find the right mix of medications to treat it. In marriage, we are stronger than ever. We determined to take a sacramental approach to our marriage - it would be life-long. The word "divorce" would never be mentioned. Love is not a feeling, but a daily (sometimes grinding) choice. We simply choose to love each other.

Gary Thomas asks this question in his book Sacred Marriage: "What if God designed marriage to make us holy more than to make us happy?" Exactly. Marriage should prompt us to pursue holiness. In Ephesians 5:33 we're told, "Let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband." Earlier in the chapter wives are told to submit to their husbands and husbands to love their wives as Christ loves the Church. We're addressed in our general weaknesses here. Women (for the most part) like to take control and have trouble submitting, but respecting her husband will bring out his manly qualities. Men (in a general sense) are not relational by nature and often will take care of practical matters before "loving". However, when a man takes the time to truly love his wife she will SHINE! Marriage is a path to make us more like Christ.

So, my marriage isn't perfect. But that's because my husband and I are not perfect. It is an excellent marriage, because we both encourage the other to growth. To be better mates, parents, Christ-followers. My husband. Next to that cross he is the greatest gift God has given me. He loves me more than life itself. And he loves God more than that. There are no perfect marriages, but some of them (happy sigh!) can get fairly close.