Guadalupe

Our Lady of Guadalupe has a special place in my heart. My relationship with the Blessed Mother waxes and wanes, but any devotion I have is always a gift from her, and I feel from Our Lady of Guadalupe in particular. There was a missionary image of Our Lady of Guadalupe at a Catholic women's conference my mom and I went to when I was a teenager. People lined up to see it in between presentations because it was a miraculous image. When I found this out, I dragged my mother away from dinner early so that we could get in line before the last talk of the evening.

There was a woman standing by the image with a stethoscope. She placed the stethoscope over Mary's heart, and some people heard her heartbeat--and then she'd place it over her womb, and some people also heard Jesus' heart. As I came up in line she was wiping the ears of the stethoscope with her last alcohol swab, so I was one of the last people she let listen. She looked at me and told me cheerfully, "Children always hear the Baby Jesus' heartbeat."

I remember feeling kind of insulted, because it was literally the day before my sixteenth (or fifteenth?) birthday. Ha. She helped me put the stethoscope in my ears, held it over Our Lady's heart ...

... and there it was. Clear and slow and deep, the slowest and most even heartbeat I have ever heard. Like when I was little and curled up in my mother's lap listening to her heart.

And before I had a chance to take it in, she moved the stethoscope down to Our Lady's belly--I could point out to you the exact flower on her dress--and I heard Him. A much smaller, faster heartbeat, but just as clear. And as I listened to it, it moved. And as it moved, I heard splashing--the liquid inside Our Lady's womb moving as her Son swam inside her.

I couldn't fathom it. I had hoped to hear His heartbeat, but this? And as I tried to wrap my mind around that, then ... I heard His voice. A cooing, happy sound. The kind I am blessed to hear every day when Michael is occupied in examining a piece of string or a toy and suddenly looks up at me and says something, just because he is content and I am there.

I heard Jesus' voice.

It was a gift from my Mother, to whom I'd had little devotion up until that point, even though I knew I was "supposed" to--a generous and completely unmerited gift.



Before I had a baby, and even while I was pregnant, I could pretend to "get" the Incarnation. As in, God becoming man--big and mind-boggling and mysterious as it was--was something I could picture and imagine. But since having a baby? That poops and laughs and looks at me and screams in the middle of the night for reasons I don't always understand?

God did all that?

I can't even pretend to "get" it anymore. It's almost ridiculous. I can imagine God as Man, but God as a baby?

And yet, I've heard that Baby's voice.



It was really important to me to get to Mass on her feast today. So yesterday I asked St. Juan Diego to please help me get there (the guy walked a good fifteen miles to get to Mass on Sunday!), and he came through. Somehow I made dinner early in the day, packed up the baby, and went. I don't think I've been to daily Mass since Michael was born (although I really can't remember). I've only been to adoration once. In addition to things like preparing dinner and making sure that Michael gets his naps, it's hard for me psychologically to get out and do these things. I know that I need to place myself more often in the presence of God; I need to learn what this looks like in my life as it is now, as a wife and mother, rather than a single person whose time is her own to do with as she pleases.

I read this in The Way yesterday: "If  you accustom yourself, at least once a week, to seek union with Mary in order to go to Jesus, you will have more presence of God." So simple, and yet such an important reminder.



Other good things today: going to Wendy's with my dear friend Stephanie after Bible study; visiting with my mom; inviting two young women to our apartment after Mass for homemade chicken noodle soup, salad, and olive oil bread; pureeing some soup for Michael (he is becoming quite the carnivore! and he gets mad now if we take too long giving him his own food at dinnertime, hehe); singing O Come Emmanuel after lighting the Advent wreath with two extra voices.

Preparing

That was this morning's breakfast. It was leftover berry cobbler. I am not ashamed.

That is a little pile of stars. Four, so far. For those who don't know, that is not knitting but crochet. Yes, dear friends, I present you with my first ever crochet project! (As opposed to random granny squares.) The gold thread was given to me by my mother, and while it makes pretty stars the metallic running through it is kind of scratchy to work with. But that's okay. I plan on making a garland (not sure how long yet), and possibly ornaments to slip inside Christmas cards ...? We'll see how ambitious I feel.

I admire my friends who have gotten all their Christmas preparations done early so that they can have a peaceful Advent; stress is the worst when it comes to distracting us from the things we should be focused on. For me, though, shopping for gifts and writing Christmas cards and so on has always been a tangible way to enter into the spirit of preparation that looks forward to Christmas, to Christ. Which is why I'm enjoying crocheting these stars. :)

Last night we lit the advent wreath for the first time (we forgot it on Sunday) and sang the first verse of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," which is a tradition from my family. We don't have any greenery yet, so it's just a metal ring with the candles, hehe. That's okay for now.

I have no idea where we're going to fit the tree this year, as we now have a computer desk in the living room, not to mention baby things. (Babies are so little; why does their stuff take up so much room?) But I've set up the creche with Mary and Joseph and the as-yet-empty manger. I will start adding the animals today.

I know that this year Michael isn't going to "get" anything, but it's still so exciting to enter his first Advent! And for myself as a wife and mother, this season holds so much promise. I want to learn what it means to wait upon Christ, to watch for Him; I want that watching to suffuse every moment.

Sad Thoughts

I came home on Sunday to find an old-now-awkwardly-distant-but-still--very-dear-to-me friend had removed me from her Facebook. I was angry (I can't help it) and hurt and sad. We used to have the same values, but we don't anymore. We don't really talk anymore either, so our personal connection sort of evaporated. And if I put myself in her shoes, I can imagine her taking certain things I posted personally, perhaps even feeling attacked by them--which can happen so easily when you stop talking and only stalk one another's Facebook profile now and then. So I understand. But I wish ... I wish.

It's funny, because a month or so ago I felt that disconnection acutely, and I sent her a message saying hi, and she answered. And you know, I remembered writing in that message, "I love you." But in fact, when I went back to check, I didn't.

But I do. That is where the message came from. She had no way of knowing that I jolted out of bed at 1am thinking of her, praying for her, rushing to the computer to initiate some sort of connection.

Oh Facebook. The fact of the matter is she would have been long gone without this silly social networking site. But it would have been a drifting, rather than a conscious choice.

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Someone from my MFA program just posted about some amazing news relating to their novel, and I am pretty excited for them. And it made me think about my own writing, which I haven't been doing much of. Which is the problem. The not-thinking, and the not-writing.

And it left a sinking feeling in my stomach. Not a diminishment of happiness for my fellow-writer, because I am so happy for her and she is incredibly talented, and I knew and hoped she would be published soon. But I found myself thinking, that will never be me. It won't be me because I've barely written in eight months and even if I felt motivated enough to try I know the words are all stopped up and awkward because they have been for two years or more.

But typing that is like a wrench to my insides, so I know I am not resigned to "that will never be me." Not yet. It's a weird sort of hope, knowing that you won't ever be able to completely let go of something. Because if you don't turn it into hope then it's pretty depressing in its own right.

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And now the ol' navel is cleared of lint, so I shall stop examining it in public.

Seven Quick Takes (4)

1. This morning I wiped down the outsides of the cupboards in the kitchen. I had noticed they needed it a little while ago, but I admit I put it off deliberately, not because I didn't want to do it per se, but because I knew they'd get dirty again so quickly. I kept thinking about my mother-in-law coming to visit over Christmas, and how I'll be deep cleaning the apartment right before she arrives anyway, so why not just wait til then? (I've been putting off cleaning the spots on the carpet because of this. Knowing me, I will drip more coffee on the floor before then. But maybe I'll do that next week.)

2. Yesterday I babysat for a friend while she went to an appointment. Her 2 1/2 year old, Bobby, is my godson, and he loves Michael. It's very sweet. :) As I mashed up an avocado in the kitchen for Michael to eat, I heard Bobby call from the living room: "Hey! My hat fits his head!"

Well I guess it does, technically. 

Bobby also informed me that I was the babysitter, and I was supposed to "sit and watch," not tickle him. 

3. Is anyone else reading the Catechism for the Year of Faith? I usually fall behind and the daily readings pile up in my email for a few days, then I sit and read them all at once, but overall I've been keeping up. I've also been rereading certain sections for a reading group that Keith and I are a part of. I think this is the first time in my life that I've read the Catechism prayerfully, and it's awesome. Also very challenging, on a personal level, because if you read it prayerfully and reflectively then you realize it really needs to make a difference in your life.

4. For example. The section I just (re)read--185-231--ends with "The Implications of Faith in One God." Believing in and loving God "means coming to know God's greatness and majesty ... It means living in thanksgiving ... It means knowing the unity and true dignity of all men ... It means making good use of created things ... It means trusting God in every circumstance." (223-227) This really resonated with me, that growing in faith means growing in these things. I know that I need a stronger faith, but have been struggling with knowing how to grow there, how to measure it; and here is a concrete answer I can wrap my mind around.

5. Yesterday I finished my 52nd book of the year. (If you recall, my goal was to read 50.) It was not The Brothers Karamazov. That may end up being the 53rd. Or 54th, if I need (yet another) break. ;)

6. Last night Keith and I ate pumpkin curry for dinner, and I had the leftovers for lunch. It was amazing. Someday I'll have to try making it. I made a korma for dinner a few weeks ago and it was pretty good, if I say so myself. Curry is such a great cold weather food.

7. Well, I should probably fold the laundry before Michael wakes up ... and maybe watch another episode of Call the Midwife, which I am now addicted to and thoroughly love. I highly recommend it. Although the last episode involved someone stealing a mother's baby and let me tell you, I cannot deal with that sort of thing anymore. I couldn't put Michael down for an hour afterwards.


Linking up over at Conversion Diary!

What I wore to Thanksgiving dinner

I never do these kinds of posts. I don't take pictures, and I don't often wear makeup or coordinated outfits five days out of seven. But I decided to participate in Grace's "What I Wore to Thanksgiving Dinner" linkup. So, here goes. :)

At my father-in-law's place.

I am pretty excited to wear this dress. It's not exactly nursing friendly, hehe. But now that my little man is eating some solids, I can at least wear dresses for a couple of hours. ;) 

 

 And of course Michael is dressed up for his first Thanksgiving, also. He's almost too chubby for that shirt now.

 Happy Thanksgiving!

(Dress and purple tights were both hand-me-downs from friends. The boots are from DSW. All of Michael's clothes are from Carter's--with the exception of his mama-made vest.)

Karamazov and a (finally!) finished shawl!

I have been knitting some secret projects that I'm not going to show you, just yet. But I can show you the Fallberry mitts I've been making for myself. 

The yarn is Road to China Light, in Carnelian, and it is soooo soft. Yum. These knit up very quickly, and I think there's just enough yarn in the skein for the pair of them (and maybe a hexipuff or two). 

We just ordered a Catechism, and while I haven't really cracked it open, I have been reading a bit of it in my email inbox every day for the Year of Faith. And I have finally picked The Brothers Karamazov back up and am making progress once more. (I am sorry, Father Zossima, but your final words were a big roadblock to me.) Funny how Ginny just started reading this too--it seems that it's been popping up all over the places, quotes and references and so on, since I've started reading. Or maybe people are always referring to Dostoyevsky and I'm just now noticing it? 

I also finished a Tilden for Michael, which he doesn't like to wear. I guess it's a bit scratchy on his bald head. He tries to yank it off and pulls it over his eyes instead. And then his mother laughs at him. Poor kid. 

And, after letting it sit around in a crumpled heap for months, I finally blocked my friend's shawl. Yay!

And now, back to Christmas knitting! Go see what other people are making and reading at Ginny's yarn along.

Weekend

It's been 20 days since I last posted. Whoops. Things have been busy, but it's just the ordinary sort of busy that comes from having a baby and so forth. We are still working on Michael's naps (sigh), but overall, life has a rhythm and I am happy with it. I have been making dinner most weeknights, which makes me feel in control of things and accomplished.

Although Keith still does the cooking on weekends, and that's fine by me. ;)

This Saturday I went to an indie fiber event, and of course I couldn't leave empty handed. I bought some beautiful buttons, a collection of patterns for little boys for when Michael gets older, and a skein of yarn. (I admit that, while I really like the yarn, I mostly bought it out of awkwardness. It was a small event, and I felt weird not getting anything, because I couldn't just fade back from the tables and disappear. Does anyone else have this sort of problem, or am I just weird?)

Then I came home to my guys, and after Michael's second nap, we decided to go to the library and out to dinner for a nice treat. We took Michael into the children's section and picked out a few board books (which he is NOT allowed to nom). 

Ready to go to the library. He doesn't like his new hat.

Keith wandered through the new fiction section in search of something to read, while I headed to the back with a specific author in mind; then we parted ways a second time while he looked at movies (they didn't have Little Women, which I really wanted, but we got The Happening out--we'll see how that is) and I went to check out the knitting section. (The main Carnegie library has an awesome selection! I checked out this (for my new yarn) and this (because some friends and I are knitting mittens together after Christmas).) 

It was a great visit, because I had some things in mind I wanted to get, but I also walked out with some spontaneous selections. Keith likes to wander and get lost among the books, picking them up off the shelf and waiting for something to catch his eye. I like the idea of that sort of meandering, but the reality is that if I have no purpose to my search I often get frustrated and leave with nothing. But the Carnegie library is a great place to meander, with its glass floors and windows into the museum. I would love to make a family tradition of these visits, to leave every two weeks with a new armful of books. They also have special events for homeschoolers, which is neat. 

(Last year when my cousin was visiting, we came to this library to listen to a Klezmer band. It was great music, but what I remember most about it was a sweet old lady who sat on a stool next to me and kept falling asleep and, with her mouth hanging open, leaning so far backwards I was sure she was going to fall and I, the pregnant woman, would have to catch her. Thankfully she woke up in the nick of time!)

At the restaurant across the plaza, Michael sat in his highchair the whole time and let us eat with both hands free--a first for him, probably helped by the fact that his highchair had wheels. At first I thought it was rather silly, but by the end of the night I decided it was pure genius. When he started getting bored we could just turn him around so he could see the other people, and he was thrilled.