My Son Has a Super Power

You simply have to read this post by the Attack of the Redneck Mommy blogger. Her son has a super power: invisibility. He is disabled. His disability is visible, so he is unseen.

I want to drag into the glare of honest criticism as a mom of a special gift like my son a few points.

1- You can use any excuse to laugh or rail at the disabled. The more shallow of you use the fact that the child's looks or sounds or drools makes you exempt from being decent. The more subtle of you use the fact that mommy is an annoying Republican as your excuse. When you laugh at the Trig jokes, mothers like me hold our children a little closer. We are protecting them from the likes of you because we know how easy it is to delete the word "Republican" from your excuse and insert any other word--for me it might be "Catholic" or "blogger" or even just "annoying." Once you cross the line of decency, it's crossed. It isn't funny. Not even when the mommy is.

(You may want to brace yourself for this one, folks. It's a hard truth.)
2 - It has always been a capital crime in our societies to be disabled in some way. We used to expose our special children. Our more modern and enlightened evolutionary impulses insist we abort them before they are born. We who have given our special children a stay of execution for various reasons (for some, yes, it was a mere matter of timing) know, deep inside, that the world is appalled at us. Your laughter stirs a fear in us mothers that is directly related to this unacknowledged knowledge.

3 - My son is singing the Kyrie in this moment. In this very moment when I am very near tears at the heartlessness of the world toward him, he sings in Latin, "Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy." It is one of many reasons he is such an incredible gift to me and to you, ugly world. My son who will always struggle, who is the ultimate outsider, who is such a gift, he gives me hope for you and yours.

From The Attack of the Redneck Mommy (go thou hence and read)

My son has a superpower.

He is invisible.

Most disabled people are, you know

They are born with it, alongside twisted limbs or broken minds.

My son, he can’t walk, or talk, or eat

He can’t hear and he will never fly. But

He is invisible.

You may not have seen him. But he saw you

He smiled at you. A smile

Bright as a ray of light shining through a cracked window.

He looked at you.

Hoping you would see past the invisibility tattooed on his skin, cloaked around his wheelchair.

He stood beside his siblings

His cousin and he smiled. For you.

You didn’t see him.

Or you wouldn’t see him.

Was it the drool on the side of his mouth which

scared you off?

Was it the twisted way he held his hands?

Or the way his head flops slightly to the left?

He smiled still

As you overlooked him, tossing pieces of candy into the bags

Other children held out.

His bag, empty

Invisible.

He smiled still as his aunt explained why he sat at the bottom of your stairs.

“His legs don’t work.”

He smiled when you refused eye contact with him and handed a piece of candy to me to give to him.

Refusing to touch him.

Refusing to come out of your warm bright homes to see him.

My invisible monkey boy, he smiled for you.

I stood beside him, willing you to see him

Wanting my pride, my love for him to be a beacon for your eyes.

Wishing for your eyes to land on him and see his value.

To see him.

For him not to be invisible.

House after house

We tried.

Door after door, princesses, vampires, Spidermans

 they all wished they had super powers as they begged for treats

My boy,

he tricked them all.

He still smiled

even when you didn’t see him,

couldn’t see him,

wouldn’t see him.

Everybody should have a superpower.

Nobody should be invisible.

If I could pick a power

I’d use it to shine the light on every person with disabilities,

I’d make you see.

My son. He is NOT

Invisible.

I see you, kid.

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A Life Worth Living

Mommy

Into the Silence

Lent: It's easier with music...

Happy Fasting!

The Pope and Condoms: A response

I got an e-mail from a friend wondering what in the world was going on in the Catholic Church. According to the media, the Church had changed it's teaching. Impossible. It simply can't. The media got it wrong. Again and as usual.

The response:

Sent: Mon, Nov 22, 2010 01:29 PM


It looks like people are listening to the media again, P***, who reported that the Pope said the exact opposite of what he actually said. Also, this was an interview and not him sitting down with pen and paper to clearly articulate each and every word. I've been interviewed once, and everything I wanted to say wasn't said and what I did say looked very different in the article itself. It really was odd.

The whole of the comment, which I've read, makes clear that what the pope is saying is that you can use the fact that the man is using a condom to explain to him that there are limits to his behavior. To show him that even he is aware that he can't just do whatever he wants, which is the stated belief of the culture. The pope does go on to say that condoms are NOT the answer, that the church is NOT changing it's stance, and that condoms spread disease and are a part of the problem. It's like evangelizing a bank robber, "See? You don't shoot the teller because it's wrong to kill, agreed? Now, about that bank robbing..."

The media wants the church to change its mind so it can continue to beat the drum that salvation is through Latex Alone. It'll do anything it can to make it look that way. One of the main problems with communicating with the media is that the Church, the Pope, and the Lord refuse to communicate in sound bytes. You have to get the whole of the communication and not the itty bitty parts. Even then, the world wants its sin justified and will take anything and twist it to that end.

If you're not being persecuted, misunderstood, and misquoted, you're not doing it right. Right?

Here's some other links you might want to look at:http://lisagraas.com/2010/11/20/some-big-change-from-the-pope-on-condom-use/
http://www.nationalreview.com/articles/print/253679
http://lisagraas.com/2010/11/20/this-may-be-the-most-irresponsible-article-ever-written-at-huffpo/

The Culture of Divorce

REWIND WEEKEND: As I am off on retreat this weekend, I thought I would rerun some of the marriage posts. We can all use a refresher course on being sweet, after all. (Me included and me especially!)

The Culture of Divorce

"The unchallenged acceptance of divorce has infected our world with hopelessness" from the Retrouvaille vision statement

A friend lamented recently, "Why wasn't I taught how to be a wife when I was growing up?"

I thought on that for a split second and then I opened my mouth and said something along the lines of: well, my mom had tried her best. She wanted to teach me to be independent. She made sure I knew how to balance a checkbook and stay within a budget. She stressed the importance of maintaining good credit, limiting your debts, and paying your bills on time. She also trained me up to maintain a house for myself. I could cook, clean, maintain a decent schedule for myself so I didn't burn out. I resisted all along the way, of course. She insisted on choosing a solid, dependable career as part of my training, and it was in college that I learned to resist anything that resembled "women's work." If it smacked of the domestic chains, I wanted nothing of it. She had her work cut out for her.

When I took a breath and she had half a chance, my friend, obviously a tiny bit irritated with me a bit, said, "Not that stuff. That other stuff."

Come to find out what she really meant was the skills like keeping your mouth shut when you want to let loose, apologizing without rationalizing, allowing space for emotions without letting them run the show. That's a whole different kind of training.

All my married life I've struggled to learn That Other Stuff.

The more I thought about this the more I realized I've been trained to be divorced better than I'd been trained to be married.

Here's some Divorce Preparation Tips I picked up along the way:

• Get a career and keep your own money in case he dumps you.
• Keep track of what belongs to whom.
• Let him know exactly how you feel.
• Men want to rule women.
• Men are silly.
• Men don't feel.
• There's no difference between men and women--it's all cultural.
• Because you feel it, it must be true.
• You're not just arguing with your husband, you are arguing with thousands of years of male domination and female repression.

Most of this "helpfulness" came from those women's magazines that are chock full of articles my husband and I joking refer to as "How to be divorced in 6 years or less!" The real stuff took some real maturity and some real pains to learn.

The Real Stuff like:

• There's no winning an argument.
• Actions speak louder than words.
• Emotions are just emotions.
• Love and trust are not emotions all the time: sometimes they are conscious decisions you make.

There's No Winning an Argument

You can win debates. You can even even win the lottery, but an argument with your spouse is unwinnable. Winning means there's a loser and when there's a loser, you both lose. It's like scoring a touchdown against your own side. You and he are in this together. You're a team. You may have won the war of words, but you've lost something more important. Keeping score and using conflict to do it is a no-win.

You need to approach conflict as the inevitable result of two people living in close proximity. You're going to have to come to a compromise of some sort. This other person has needs and desires that are at the very least just as important as yours. Try to find a way to accommodate each other. The first step is to listen to him. Try restating his argument for him. "Are you saying...help me understand." Let him know you are really listening and really considering his side. That generally takes the heat out of the friction between you, and once that happens you can get down to the business of working things out.

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Are you still acting single? Do you have your own space, your own money, your own stuff? Do you make decisions that will affect the two of you without his input just because you can or even because you merely feel like it? Do you resent the demands he makes upon you?

If so, consider how loudly you are communicating two thing: my spouse doesn't make a difference in my life and he is not worth any extra effort on my part. You may not ever say such rude comments out loud, but consider how much wear and tear is done to the relationship when you daily act as if they were your truth.

But He Isn't Perfect!

If you are expecting him to be perfect before you are willing to make any changes yourself, you'll have a very long wait. Neither he, nor you, will ever attain that glorious state. Waiting for him to change first is a perfect excuse. It's your handy dandy get of responsibility free card. When you find yourself thinking he doesn't deserve the best from you, I can pretty much guarantee you probably don't deserve the best from him either.

Believe It or Not, It's Controversial!

REWIND WEEKEND: As I am off on retreat this weekend, I thought I would rerun some of the marriage posts. We can all use a refresher course on being sweet, after all. (Me included and me especially!) 

Until recently, two good friends and I had an unspoken rule: never bad mouth your husband. The rule is still in effect. We just simply got around to actually talking about it.

Imagine! Three women working, schooling, sewing, cooking, watching children together and not talking about something. Well, it happens. Especially over a topic so potentially hazardous: respecting men.

Don't think the topic is so touchy? Try broaching it among the gals sometimes. If you are male, brace yourself for the look. (You know the one I mean.) If you are female, better just brace yourself. You are in for a diatribe about how backward, oppressed, brainwashed, and just so ickily Catholic you are.

Or maybe you are in for the worst of all, the whispers...Her husband won't even let her talk about him! What!?! Oh, the Poor Thing, and all those children, too!

Male bashing is a sport. On the commercials, sitcoms, and other television drivel, the woman has to take charge and take action in the face of the ineptness of men. Cue the canned laughter, please. He's at it again! Movies, too, especially "family fare" present the bumbling but well meaning father as the standard. Men are childish, we are told. Men can't function without us women, they say. This swill is swirling all around us. We are steeped in it. As a result, women bash their own men. Why not? It's fashionable. It's funny. It's a conversational gimmick, "Oh you'll never believe what he's done now..."

Meanwhile our girls are hearing it all, and our boys are swallowing it.

Back to my friends and I and our unspeakable rule. You'll first need to understand that we sometimes do charity work together, sewing Blessing Blankets for crisis pregnancy centers, sending stockings to soldiers at Christmas, that kind of thing. Working with your hands sets your mouth free. There's a whole lot of conversation covering a whole lot of ground. Plus, we're all Southerners by birth or by association, so for us talk ain't cheap, it's precious!

Well, around November, an acquaintance and her children joined us and ours and worked right alongside us. It was exciting! Here was a new person, with new stories to hear, new kids to get to know, new jokes! It was great!

Until It happened.

She bashed her husband. Not a terrible bash, simply sharing an embarrassing moment of his that I am certain he would not want shared. Especially not with a stranger. So I smiled, caught her eye briefly, and changed the subject. Just the way my mother taught me.

First, you may need to let me teach you: It's a polite Southern way of saving another person's face. One is to ignore a gaffe, smile, and change the subject. It's gentle. It's subtle, and for Southern women, it's unmistakable. You know you've messed up and are being given the grace of an instant replay. It's best to take it. Like being offered gum or a mint. You take it. It's a nice way of saying your breath is bad.

It didn't work. I don't know if she was locked in a habit, but it was almost as if she couldn't help herself. The more I tried to change the subject, the more she offered her husband upon the altar of mutual feminine scorn. It became awkward, so I invented an excuse to briefly leave the vicinity, hoping the conversation might reboot with the interruption. It didn't. I felt terrible. I knew I had probably already ruined any chance of her liking me, and I was sad to be unable to move her mentally from my "acquaintance" category to the "potential friend."

She tried the same conversational gambit with the others throughout the day. And with the same results. The good thing that came of all this awkwardness was that afterwards we three finally broached the subject of male bashing. We spoke our unwritten rule for friendship and realized we all three carried the same litmus test, "Are you trustworthy with your men?"


For me it's like this: I just can't be friends with a woman who would betray someone's trust. Even if that someone is a man. Even if that someone is her husband. In a purely selfish vein, I know that if she's going to do that to him, one day she'll do it to me. And yes, as a mother I don't want my children hearing this type of conversation about a husband and father. As a wife I don't want my husband to overhear me involved in the tearing down of another husband.

But most importantly as a woman and in my small way, I feel duty bound to protect other women's sons from senseless attack. I know how ugly women can be. I thank God I am not a man for that very reason (among others). In all, men are different, a little strange in their thinking, but loveable just the same.

So ladies, if you want to be my friend, you know the rule.


Related Posts:
http://gardenofholiness.blogspot.com/2009/04/attitude-tips-for-wives-and-moms.html

Girl with a slight taste in art...



The movie "Girl with a Pearl Earring" is coming out. They couldn't have picked a better actress to play the role, and wow, this poster representation of the painting is a work of art in its own right. Simply amazing.

So that's about as positive as I'm going to get in preparation of the movie because I really, really like the painting and I've seen the previews. It looks to be another one of those (boring and overdone) anachronistic movies where Hollywood hyper-sexualizes a culture to better match our current post-Kinseyan and post-oral contraception mores of today. I hope I'll be pleasantly surprised, but I am not going to make any wagers.

 

Directors and screenwriters feel they need to dumb down sexual cultural differences in order to help moviegoers access the characters. No need to risk making the effort to actually be interesting. You'd never know it through watching a movie, but there is a major difference in women's sexuality now versus (any other) then: women today are obliged to have sex or face censure; women of the past were obliged not to. Hollywood applauds the former and scorns the latter, even when portraying a time period that clearly honored chastity as the ideal.

 

Cultural differences in Hollywood, at least when it comes to desire and restraint, only show up in matters of negotiating the laces of those painfully accurate corsets. Steamy sex scenes have been so overdone as to be...*yawn*...formulaic. Ironically, of all entertainment institutions, Hollywood should know that it is the chase scenes that titillate more than the catch.  

Babies: Coming Mother's Day

"A visually stunning and joyful new film that simultaneously chronicles the lives of four of the world’s newest human inhabitants - in Mongolia, Namibia, San Francisco, and Tokyo, respectively -- from first breath to first steps, on a journey at once universal and amazingly original."

This looks to be an amazing film that will show how we much we are all alike. A baby is a baby is a baby, after all. They all manufacture cute. They all spring variously textured leaks. And they all engender the best and most precious in us...the desire to give our lives over to another person: the desire to love.

Of course it will be released on Mother's Day. When else?

Babies

Here's where that "Center enough to irritate everyone" comes into play...

I am not one of those who think our current healthcare system works just fine. I think tying insurance to employment was a mistake in the first place--and that mistake is a half-century old. I think that HMOs were another big mistake. Bear in mind, I think our system does work, but I know from firsthand experience that it is too expensive, too cumbersome, and too specialized to work well.

When I was a young girl, my mother filled out insurance forms for reimbursement. It was a long and tedious process. Although we were ex-military and were able to use our Retired Air Force military IDs to access the military medical system, we only used that for vaccines, allergy shots, urgent, or emergency care--they were good at that kind of medicine. The private sector performed better for the day-to-day care, hence all the insurance forms papering our dining room table every time someone had an appointment. Because my mother had to pay up front and be reimbursed later, she questioned procedures and therefore doctors didn't order as many tests. She was invested in healthcare in a way that I never had to be.

I had HMOs. Once I landed my first job with benefits, I stopped being a watchful consumer of my medical care. I avoided doctors like the plague when I was younger and uninsured. With the HMO, I had only a small co-pay for an office visit, a slightly larger one for urgent care, and an almost painful one for an emergency room visit. Almost.

Unlike my uninsured days, I now went to the doctor with every cold or flu. If she wanted to rule out pneumonia with a lung X-ray, I had no objections. I probably wouldn't see a bill for that anyway and the only paperwork I ever had to work with was filling out my change of address forms whenever I moved.

Econ 101 says that an increase in demand drives up prices. My demand increased. I'm sure others were demanding more, too. Why not? It was monetarily painless, after all.

Healthcare was painless in other ways, too. Because I never filled out forms, my doctor had to hire staff to do that. Because I never argued over procedures, my doctor and his office battled it out with my insurance company. After awhile, they worked things out or they negotiated a set number of procedures that were okay in certain circumstances and the charges for those. Over time and with everyone doing that, I think things have gotten a bit out of hand.

Meanwhile, those who have not had the opportunity or the gumption to get those jobs with the benefits (those self-insured by choice or by circumstance) have had to deal with the up tick in prices caused by all of us using the system more frequently.

So, here we are. We've got a massive new healthcare bill with already record spending deficits and no real way to pay for it. No one is talking to anyone else: shouting and name-calling, yes, but no real dialogue. Not a single GOP member voted for the bill and Attorney Generals in several states are lining up to see who's going to file the first challenge to the bill when it is signed today.

Worse and worser, for some stupid reason, this couldn't just be about healthcare. Instead, heavy-duty life issues were incorporated into it so that many people who would have supported this (read the USCCB and other pro-life Christian groups) couldn't support it, despite what a few dozen wayward nuns and Nancy Pelosi have had to say about it.

I'm thinking what we need here is an administration who recognizes that it had better start wooing not only the press but the people and the other party as well. So far, the press is on board. Maybe Mrs. Clinton can share a few tricks of her husband's: he was a master at wooing was he not? Since we are still arguing despite the bill being ready to sign, I'm thinking that bullying and name-calling in the blogosphere wasn't the best plan.

Life issues and money issues have been my two objections all along. Because I've raised them here and there, I've been called a bigot and I've been told my son should die rather than burden the system. I've been compared to Palin, too (and let me just make it very clear, despite the glasses, the brown hair, the jogging, and the special-needs son, the resemblance is merely surface level. I'm no quitter). I could just chalk this up to tolerance and compassion from the Left, but that's too snarky. I'll say instead that ignorance and bigotry are not exclusive to the Right. Most racists I've encountered have been Conservative, but most Eugenicists have been Liberal.

How about we ditch the extremists of both parties and start talking in the middle here?

Not that anyone cares what I think, but I do think the bill has gotten so entangled with issues and partisanship and rancor it is going to be tangled up in so many suits it will be strangled to a long-suffering death. I'm thinking no one has won this one. I really hope it's not too late to call for a do-over. Sticks and stones have broken a bone or two. Is there a doctor in the House? How about the Senate?

Wifey Wednesday--Her Inner Control Freak

To See Other Wifey Wednesday Posts

I am a planner. I plan my week, my day. I plan long range as well and I'm happy to report that six years out is starting to shape up and fall in line. Speaking of lines, at the DMV I plan escape routes in the event that a fire breaks out. All this foresight and planning gives me a nice little sense of power and control. My poor husband. That phrase always follows the words power and control in my mind.

I like to think I am in charge, but God, in His wisdom and in His ability to swing a solid 2 x 4 when haughtily ignored, frequently reminds me otherwise. In His further wisdom, He has provided me with a male of the species to contend with, er, I mean rather, to spend my life with. He has also generously provided the males of the species with a need to be leaders. Yes, my husband needs to be a leader and he does not need my leadership. Yeah, that's right, we get to struggle over this! Oh yay.

Because of who I am, I want to be the leader in the family. Because of who my husband is and who my children are, he needs to be leader. Guess who wins in the struggle of wants vs. needs? Yeah, that's right, it ain't me in this one. Yay.

Having grown up in a military family I know a little something about leadership: it is better to have a mediocre leader in charge than to have two leaders in charge. While two leaders battle each other, the real enemy picks off the troops. That's a sobering analogy when you apply it to your family.

Men can overlook the details to gain perspective on the big picture. They're brains are wired that way. (Really you should look into fetal development and MRI studies of problem solving between the genders, fascinating stuff.) Basically, men are linear thinkers. For example: given Child A and Child B and desiring outcome C and not D, we shall allow A and B to work towards C, rewarding all evidence of C and ignoring or reprimanding all instances of D. Discipline is pretty cut and dried.

We women see details upon details and in doing so can lose sight of the big picture. For example: given Child A (he was born first and feels a very strong sense of purpose and sense of self) and Child B (she's a middle child and I really feel she has that Middle Child Syndrome everyone talks about. She really does sometimes compete much harder for the privileges and status of the older child while wanting to maintain the cuddly coddling of the younger child. This Middle Child Syndrome of hers has been complicated by the birth of two more children, thus placing her in an actual older child position in the family--really we must make allowances for her bad behavior while she adjusts to this new situation and above all we must watch for signs of droopy self-esteem which probably stemmed from being named a letter and not a name in the first place, I mean talk about identity issues!)...I forgot the point I was trying to make here.

...um. Oh yeah.

Back to that point. My husband needs to be admired and needs to apply his God given gifts of logic, planning, and self-control to be in a position of decision making of the family. I need to be cherished and need to apply my God-given gifts of communication, nurturing, understanding, and planning to influence my husband's logical decision-making process.

I am the Corporal in this Army. Not only am I in charge of my band of troops, I am in there mucking it out on the day-to-day basis. I report to the Major what has happened, who was responsible when it didn't happen as planned, and let the Major know how I think the plan needs to change in light of what's happening. As Corporal, I get dirty and sometimes take friendly fire if a Cheerios food fight erupts at breakfast while I'm blogging. I've got the details of this army down and I could probably run the army if I had to, but that's not my job. My job is to be the Corporal: that's the officer the troops trust, complain to, seek out and turn to. The Corporal gets in on the day by day everydayness. To run the army, I'd have to step back emotionally and rationally divvy out resources and duties. I could do that. Sure I could.

But I'd rather be Mom.

So to quote my favorite move line ever, "Let me tell you something, Toula. The man is the head, but the woman is the neck. And she can turn the head any way she wants." Maria Portokalos may have been the Momma and not the head, but she was one smart momma!

Oven Jambalaya and Adopting a Lousiana Heritage

My biological stepfather introduced me to Jambalaya, but before I share the recipe I'd better untangle the relationship we had.

I was adopted as an infant. When I was 18, my birth mother tracked me down and we began a slow process of getting to know one another. She was married to a man named Royal Peter. He was my biological stepfather; not related to me at all really, except by marriage and by an accident of birth, and through the efforts of two families to get to know each other after 18 years of never having met before. He's been gone now for years, and one of the many ways he influenced me was through food.

When I met him I was of the mind that if I had to cook the food, it wasn't worth eating. I was right about that! I disdained all things feminine and wanted to prove my point to the point that I was actually proud of being a horrible cook. He was a Louisianne and French enough in his outlook that he considered food a heritage. That idea eventually intrigued me enough to start experimenting with my own cultural heritage--Southern cooking, among others. In a way, he planted a seed that is still growing. I love the creativity of cooking and I really love the silence that descends as the first bite of something incredible hits the taste buds and takes control of the brain for a split second before the, "Oh! Wow!" or "Mmmm!" noises begin.

My first exposure to Jambalaya came during a conversation about an impending lunch. I was working on my biological family's ranch at the time. I was outdoors and about a mile from any buildings and by some quirk of necessity and planning I had no transportation. He was the one sent to get me for lunch.

Since it was early spring I was working on sprinklers. Since it was California it was early February. Since it was early February it was nearly Mardi Gras. Since it was nearly Mardi Gras, Roy was missing Louisiana. If he was missing Louisiana, he was going to talk about it. Being hungry he was going to talk about food, too. Since it took me a bit to work myself to a stopping point and since it was a one-person job, he leaned against the bumper of his truck to chat. That's the round about way he got on the subject of food storage in the steamy state.

He said that the week started with roasts on Sunday, sausage and beans on Tuesday, chicken on Wednesday, fish or shrimp on Friday, and leftovers on the days in between. On Saturday, anything leftover from the week that hadn't turned (or had hardly turned), got put into a jumble in a pot, spiced to perfection, and was called Jambalaya. The conversation and the remains of the job took about 20 minutes from start to finish. I could almost taste the talk. He was so descriptive in that Southern gentlemanly way of his, and I was such a foodie even then when I didn't know it yet, I could smell and see all the dishes he described. I've been hunting through Jambalaya recipes looking for him ever since.

So nowadays, whenever I stir the colors of rice and beans, when I smell bay leaf and cayenne I am there again with him in his cowboy hat, big buckle, and boots leaning against the bumper of his truck, his arms crossed and his eyes far away.

Here's our latest conversation:

Oven Jambalaya

3 cups water
1 1/2 cup uncooked regular rice
1 can corn (drained)
1 can diced tomatoes
1 small can diced peppers
1 small onion diced
1 package kielbasa or Italian sausage sliced into half inch disks*
1/2 pound cooked ground beef or breakfast sausage*
1/2 pound cooked chicken shredded or diced*
1/2 pound fresh shrimp peeled and deveined*
2 tsp chili powder
2 cloves garlic crushed
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp thyme
2 bay leaves
dash of cayenne pepper (to taste)
salt and pepper to taste

Combine ingredients in a lightly greased baking dish, cover and bake at 375 degrees for 1 hour. Yields 8 servings.

*The meats for Jambalaya are both interchangeable and optional. When I made this the first time, the meats I had on hand were kielbasa and beef hot dogs. I sliced them up and put them in the dish. Mmmm! I recommend making a Jambalaya in the traditional way whenever you have a bit of this and a bit of that leftover to make a jumble in the pot. Throw in leftover veggies, too, especially leftover okra!

Serves with cornbread muffins and a green salad anytime!

Marriage...

For Jacen...


...my nephew, poised on the brink, within the week you, too, are about to enter The Fellowship of the Rings! Here is some advice, some words of wisdom, from the wellspring of 10 short years:

Marriage is not for the faint of heart. It is for the steadfast and loyal. It is hard work. It is so worth it.

Some of the most exquisite moments of your life, like the moment your eyes will meet hers after you have touched your first child for the first time, will only be known by you, your bride, and God. These moments are so much more precious because of their secret and intimate nature. May you have too many to count and may they begin with that first marital kiss!

Silly, auntie, you may think: you need no advice in how to weather the bliss. We seem born knowing how to handle it! It is those other times that need bolstering. Those dry times, those times when God seems distant and we are in the cold desert alone, those are the times that try us. There is a reason for winter, for ashes, for quiet and loneliness. These are the times that God is hidden from us and He is at work within us.

As a farmer, you know very well that there is a cycle to things: spring, summer, fall, and winter. You are entering into the springtime of your love. Hope and light and warmth are increasing. Your first honeymoon together is about to begin. After the fullness of this cycle of growth, seeds will be planted in the soil of your marriage, and the pruning frosts and a shedding season will begin.

Do not be afraid. Do not ever be afraid. Things are at work in the hushed season of winter. God is whispering in secret to the seeds the summer has sown. Those seeds will grow, but first God requires a dark and a lonely season. When the cold comes, let your vows sustain you. Your promise and your word is good enough to get you through this time without light. Trust that there will be a new springtime on the heels of this.

My only advice is this: trust each other always, even in those rare times when you don't seem to like each other. Her word is good and so is yours. You have promised to love, honor, and cherish. That promise will carry you whenever you forget how to carry each other.

For now, though, my advice is to forget this letter, forget this advice, and enjoy each other. Enjoy your day and the first of many beautiful days together!

Love and much love,
Christie

Busy enough for ya?

I forget how to add. Like 2 + 2 = 4 is obvious, so should be a more algebraic but equally basic equation like Valentine's Day + Sunday = Crowded Mall.

We decided after the Jell-O and candy at Nana's to celebrate the day with our sugar-sweetened children by going to the $2 discounted theatre at the mall. "We" being half the town.

In our wisdom to forget about people behaving just like us, it also never occurred to us to allow time for a line, so we were forced to take the only row that had 7 empty and consecutive seats--the front row.

Now would be a good time to explain some things about the experience of Autism: big, huge, loud, flashy and colorful experiences are better in smaller, more distant and constrained conditions like between two parents near the back with the entire comforting mass of family between the experience and the exit. Being able to get up and walk into the open space in front of the first row makes everything less tolerable. You have options. Options are not good.

On the other hand bailing on a movie, getting vouchers to return another day and indoor playgrounds on a blustery winter day are good. Getting to it in a crowded mall? Not so very good.

My kids are 6, 4, 4, 2, and 1. There are 1 more of them than there are available adult hands. They dawdle. They look at things. They have short legs. They exist when other people are existing. These things about children in large groups make some adults in small groups grumpy. Adults grumpy about children being children tickles my sense of the absurd and I laugh. I also connect seemingly unrelated dots, like certain unfortunate winter clothing choices and frozen bakery items. Dot connecting makes my husband laugh.

So, here we were, traipsing around with children and laughing because we were actually having a good time. Some other people were also having a good time. They exchanged pleasantries in that Mallish way of milling about and making eye contact and saying something nice just loud enough to be overheard. "Cute kids." "Look at that hair." "Aw!" We had our share of nice things to say about some little girls in very princessy looking dresses as well as a few wind and weather remarks made to allow for a bit of idle conversation among strangers.

Sadly, though, amongst the crowd of us there were people there not to have a good time at all. They exchanged grumpiness in that Mallish way of not making eye contact and brushing past in a way that screams, "I'm busy here!" in a flustered and important way.

I never realized road rage was possible without a road.

I've been that busy. I can't even stand myself when I'm that busy. I hate it. I'd especially hate being busy on a Sunday in February when me and everyone else decides to do the same thing at the same time and we're all kinda stuck with each other doing it. I'd much prefer having nothing much better to do than enjoy some time with my family--my small one and my very big one--all the whole lot of us.

Even in a Mall.

Oprah and the Dominicans

Polite, respectful, interested... Those are not words you expect to associate with a daytime TV host and Catholicism. Oprah's interview with the Sisters of Mary this past week was a delightful interlude for those of us more used to being the butt of jokes. (Not that this is bad: humility is good for the soul and watching The View could be considered an act of penance)

Rare as it is, when the media gets us right, we should celebrate. We should encourage. Most of all, we should let them know. So, Oprah, if you are listening: way to go!

Segment 1


Segment 2


Segment 3


Segment 4


If this looks good to you, contact the Sisters here.

To contact Oprah and thank her for treating the Sisters respectfully!

Is the USCCB the next Catholic Scandal?

When you have a Bishop telling his flock the Catholic position is a Pro-Life position, can he be silent when his own association is giving this group money? I guess the answer is yes to that. Can I hear an "Amen" from the Pro-Choice Lobby?

Is it possible to fix this? I'm pretty ignorant of the political aspects of the church, and I'm wondering if this scandal has even run its course.

Teen Guest Blogger: Margaret Ohmes

Abortion Is Wrong!

I believe that abortion is wrong not only because of my religious beliefs but also for medical reasons. I do not think that you are solving anything when you put your life at risk while you take the life of an innocent child(http://www.abortionfacts.com/effects/effects.asp). Post-abortive women often go through great emotional trauma after they have had their abortion(http://www.abortionfacts.com/PAS/PAS.asp). They feel guilty and shameful about the child that they killed. Many of them commit suicide because of their grief. My family and I have a friend who had an abortion when she was nineteen. She said she started to drink because that gave her relief. She said that she still misses the baby that she never had.

In the year 1973 abortion was legalized in the United States of America with the Roe vs. Wade decision. Before this doctors were allowed to perform abortions only when the mother's life was at risk. Records have shown the total abortions done at two different hospitals prior to 1973, St. Luke Hospital and Cornwell Hospital, was 1. If this was a legitimate concern you would expect to find a significant number of legal abortions before 1973. This evidence points to the fact that abortions are unnecessary, especially now that our medical knowledge is so much more advanced.

The law “except to save the mother” really is a contradiction. Post-abortive women are at risk of breast-cancer and heart trouble due to the hormonal aftereffects of abortion. In fact abortionists themselves say that there is no medical indication for partial-birth abortion, a grisly procedure that involves turning a viable baby so that she is born in the breach position and killing her while her head remains in the birth canal (Editor's note: During a partial-birth procedure if a baby accidentally births herself during her struggles and is then killed, it is considered infanticide). There is no such thing as an abortion to save the mother. It is never necessary to kill the child to save the mother. A pro-life doctor I read said, “Doctors who do abortions are oxymorons.”

My religious reasons for opposing abortions is that you are directly disobeying the Sixth Commandment “Thou shall not murder” (Deuteronomy 5, 1-21). No matter how you look at it you are killing a baby. Also in Genesis the Lord commands Noah “have many children so that your descendants may live all over the earth” (Genesis 9, 1). I want to know how are we obeying God when we are killing children daily?

I think that it is as bad as murdering when you vote for a ‘pro-choice’ official (governor, mayor, president, etc.) because you are practically killing those babies killed by the laws they pass or allow to stand. Jessie Romero a lay evangelist probably said it the best, “When you vote for a ‘pro-abortion’ official you have the blood of those babies on your hands.”

I hope that by writing this people will realize the horror of abortion. For those who have had one remember that God is love and that he will forgive the repentant heart.

Settle Down

Long Lost
By Christie Martin

After years
I send you
You send me
Missives
And sheaves

We read

If I held your look
Once
I hold your words
Now
I read you
In the aches and spaces
Between

Does blood run
Black and white
Or laughter slip
like paper cuts
Along the fine seams
Between paper and skin?

Where, O where
have you been?


You know you are finally home when you watch your cousin give the weather report. I am finally in a place where I have roots. The region of the country where I now live is where my parents grew up and my extended family has always lived. It was a place I used to visit now and again. I grew up in a military family and moved several times in my childhood: less than some, but enough to get the habit well established. I continued the practice in my adult years.

I love to start over. I like the clean slate. I like introductions and the thrill of discovery. Everyone is on an even playing field at the beginning. The flaws in the turf have yet to be stumbled over. The wrestling of a friendship from an acquaintance is great sport.

Yet, it has cost me as I moved from pature to greener pasture. I have lost many contacts along the way. I have lived on two coasts and several states. My geography is pegged with longing for faces and voices out of reach in time and space.

Internet inventions like Facebook, e-mail, and even Google have given me the gift of reconnections. My life has been enriched by the reintroduction of those "I knew when." History is something we outrun, but it does catch up with us eventually.

History is to the culture like friendship is to the soul. We need to have an objective look now and then at who we were to fully understand who we are and who we may wind up being. Sometimes a change in direction is necessary. Sometimes, we need to come home, wherever that may be, put our feet to the fire and be quiet.

As unmoored as one single life can become at the loss of connections with the past, a culture can as easily be cast adrift. We have a human need to stay grounded in our past. From Frederick Douglas to John Adams from Socrates to the Apostle Paul, the writers who call to us out of history act as friends to the lumbering psyche of a people. They remind us of where we've been, the failed experiments we've already tried as well as the trials that have led to success. Like a truly good friend they can point out our habits and flaws along with our strengths and admirable qualities.

We need history. Without it we forget who we are and must reinvent ourselves. When we do that we run the risk of losing sight of who we were meant to be.

A Last Thought: "Because our expression is imperfect we need friendship to fill up the imperfections." G.K. Chesterton, Illustrated London News, June 6, 1931.