Life in the mother’hood can be a real mother

Life in the mother’hood can be a real mother

Motherhood is a motherBeing a parent is a bizarre and tremendous thing. All of a sudden, you’re expected to be completely responsible for someone you’ve just met, who has all manner of needs that you’ve never supplied before, and has various personality traits and proclivities that surely don’t come from your side of the gene pool.

But necessity is a mother. I am a mother because my children were conceived. And I had to figure out how to be a mother because, all of a sudden, I was one.

It’s inconceivable how small beings so thoroughly inexperienced and utterly helpless can somehow reduce grown-ups to puddles incapable of rational thought, but they can. And do. At least, they do in my house. Regularly.

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photo credit: Jordan Whitt

 

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On privacy and pain: when you don’t know what to write

On privacy and pain: when you don’t know what to write

woman sunsetThey say, “Write what you know.”

But … what if what you know is too painful, too difficult, too private to write about?

Maybe they’d say that I should write it all down in a personal journal rather than in a public forum. And maybe they’d be right. Just keep expressing, keep trying, keep moving forward.

That’s not my story, though. When life got too difficult, too painful, too messy, I wouldn’t write anything. Not a darn thing. Well, maybe one or two things, but nothing that required me to dig in and peel back the fragile layers of my life and possibly bleed all over the poor soul who happened upon my words.

I admit: I’ve been holding out on you.

It’s sometimes a confusing tightrope to walk, this life of imperfect faith and so-called public platform. I strive to be “real” and “authentic” and “genuine,” with as little difference between how I am behind closed doors and when they’re open. But I also am a flawed human being, tied by sacrament and faith and birth to other flawed human beings. Respect for my dignity and theirs (and yours) means that, sometimes, I write around the things that are breaking my heart rather than fliging the thin veil aside for everyone to see.

The last thing I want this space to be is one where, in my brokenness, I damage relationships and possibly my heart and maybe even your heart as well. I have always, always intended this to be a place of encouragement and redemption.

And so I wait. I wait for it to stop being so painful and difficult. I wait for the sunshine to appear, burning off the months and months of frozen cold and dreary damp in my soul.

I wait for the redeeming wounds of the resurrected Christ to bind and heal my own tender wounds.

Because if there is one thing I can write with any semblance of authority and certainty today, it is that God is not finished with me yet. I know that He is guiding this healing, this transforming, this becoming.

I believe that my story–where Jesus Christ alone is glorified through every detail of my wild and blessed life–is being written, even if I can’t yet see the words.

photo credit: Alex Jones via unsplash 

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random musings on the passage of time + birthday giveaway!

random musings on the passage of time + birthday giveaway!

Hello! It’s me. It’s been a while since I’ve written any of length here rather than asking you to click away to something written somewhere else. Don’t worry – I’ll make my click-away request later on. But for now, a few things have been on my mind lately.

If there’s one thing I’m learning in my older age, it’s that time can be a big bully. One minute you’re seven years old, begging your parents to buy you a new pair of clear jelly sandals and a Strawberry Shortcake baby doll, the next you’re on the cusp of 20 years’ practice being 21. How does that even happen?? I mean, other than the imminent passage of chronological time, of course.

Last week I thought about creating a list of 41 things to do in my 41st year to make things (my life? the blog? your life?) more colorful. Upon further consideration, however, it sounds 1) kind of cheesy, TBH; 2) like a lot of work to conjure; and 3) do I really need to add more things to my plate?

Bobbi’s recent post for Blessed is She got me thinking about the things I truly should be doing, and the things I bring on myself. Sure, it’s common sense (biblical, even!) that each day has troubles of its own. But for whatever reason that I still haven’t thoroughly worked out, I have a bad habit of piling other troubles upon my plate today, tomorrow, and for the foreseeable future. I’m not a complete masochist, mind you. I get into a pickle because, usually, aforementioned troubles are impeccably disguised in fun/important/urgent/ministerial/good citizen’s clothing.

I’m currently reading Shauna Niequist’s bestselling book Present Over Perfect, and it’s been eye-opening. I can relate to a lot of what she writes about striving vs. abiding, doing vs. being, etc. I’m hoping to take part in a free online study beginning next week; that is, if it doesn’t interfere with the rest of my plate. #LOLOLOLOL

So, while I can’t promise that I’ll ever get aound to that 41 Things for Year 41 post, I can promise that, as has become tradition, I’m giving something away to you, dear Reader, to celebrate my birthday! Thanks to my friends at Catholic T-Shirt Club I’ve got some fun things to give away to one of YOU! Check out their awesome monthly subscription boxes, chock full of faith-filled goodies to share and live the Catholic faith for adults AND kiddos ((super cute Divine Mercy t for kids in my instastories today!)).

Birthday giveaway 2017

To enter yourself, head on over to my Instagram account and say howdy! You may also tag up to five friends (one per comment) to enter them to win. If you share my IG post, you get five extra entries, just like that! One lucky and blessed winner will be randomly selected and announced on Monday, May 8th and receives allll the stuff pictured over on IG (and here … except you can’t have my birthday coffee ☕️😂). Shipping in domestic US only, please and thank you ever so much.

Thanks again to my friends at Catholic T-Shirt Club for their generosity. And – one last thing – In honor of my birthday, if you can, please thank God for something He’s given you. Eat or drink something delicious. Kiss someone you love. Do something that makes your heart sing. I’ll be praying for y’all. Please pray for me.

Love,

heather

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Life moves pretty fast.

Life moves pretty fast.

busy sidewalk

 

As noted 20th-century philosopher Ferris Bueller remarked, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

When I was younger, I couldn’t wait to be older. My Mom would say, “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, Heather. Enjoy where you are now.” Despite her sage advice, I was never content being whatever age I happened to be.

To my naive mind, if I could just be 5, or 9, or 18 — I could go to school with the big kids, or stay up later to finish that compelling novel or eat cake for dinner because I was old enough to make my own choices.

I guess you’d say I wasn’t a “bloom where you’re planted” sort of youngster. If I had a dollar for every time I said or thought “I’m bored,” in my youth ….

Read the rest here

Photo credit: Mauro Mora // unsplash

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He truly is I AM

He truly is I AM

2017 0404 BIS ImageIn today’s First Reading, the Israelites are complaining to Moses. Again.

Oh, those ungrateful Israelites. Shame on them!

Almighty God sent incredible plagues to thwart the Egyptians and split the Red Sea in two. He provided a way so His chosen people could leave the chains of slavery behind and enter the Promised Land. And still they grumbled and murmured against Him. I can practically hear them whining now: “We’re tiiiiiiired. We’re huuuuungryyyyy. This is awwwwwful. Are we theeeerrrre yet??” [Sounds like a few (or five) kids I know.]

Their lack of faith was not without consequence; the Lord sent deadly serpents to attack them. When they turned back to God and prayed for relief, He provided a way out. Only those who looked upon the bronze saraph mounted on a pole by Moses survived the serpents’ deadly attacks.

Yes. It’s easy for me to shake my head in disbelief at the immature and clueless Israelites. They grew weary and impatient and frustrated and doubted that God was making a way for them not only to survive, but to thrive.

Yet, if I’m honest with myself, am I any better than the grumbliest of grumblers in the desert?

Read the rest here.

photo credit: (c) blessed is she // used with permission

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