just another day of Catholic pondering by Sarah Reinhard
It’s so easy, even *I* have done it. For the first time ever.
It’s a May altar!
Yes, I know. With my devotion to Mary, you’d think this would be something I’ve done many times. With my love of flowers, you’d think this would be something so simple and easy, I wouldn’t even need instructions.
Well, yes, I am this pathetic. I had to write instructions first, and even I pulled it off!
Here’s the before:
And here’s the after:
Go on over for my easy-peasy instructions and encouragement!
A Mary Moment Monday post
A year ago, we were still living in the old farmhouse.
A year ago, the boy was just starting to roll over.
You can see what he’s doing NOW…
A year ago, I didn’t have any books published. And now…
On the last day of April, as the weather warms and the breeze beckons, I can’t help but reflect on the season of life I’m in, right now, right here.
The change of seasons seems to do that to me.
Especially when the kids are changing so fast. Especially when there’s so much going on around me. Especially when things can change at any moment.
The present moment is so often lost on me.
I’m planning. I’m thinking. I’m juggling.
I have a lot going on, even if only in my own mind.
When I see Mary–by my sink,
on the walls,
in a nook–
she reminds me that the Yes I most need to say is the one I say right now.
I’m going to be learning THAT lesson until I die, I think.
A weed needs so little room to take root. It doesn’t even need proper soil, near as I can tell. Just a little sliver of space, maybe some moisture, a bit of sun, and wah-lah: Weed Central. You see them on the side of roads where there’s but a crack. We found one yesterday growing underneath an upstairs window.
It reminds me of how little room sin needs to get firmly rooted in me. It only needs a small crack in my resolve, a little light from the not-quite-shut curtain, a tiny seed of doubt.
Sometimes the weeds don’t look so bad. In fact, sometimes they add color and texture to an otherwise desolate area. Sometimes they flower and make you forget that they are a weed. Sometimes maybe they are even a blessing.
Isn’t that just like sin? Sometimes it doesn’t seem so bad. Sometimes it is, in fact, so much more convenient than the truth of God’s plan. Sometimes I’m tempted to think of sin as a blessing, as a better alternative, as a shortcut to the desired end.
When I put on my gloves and buckle down to get dirty with the weeds in the garden of my soul, I see that the roots go deep, intertwining with the plants I want to keep, infiltrating every part of my life.
Only God has the Round-Up that will take care of these guys. Only by his grace will I be able to keep them from taking over again. I find humiliation in this knowledge…and relief.
I don’t have to do it by myself.
I am also reminded about the wisdom of prevention. My brother-in-law showed me the beauty of mulch for keeping weeds out – but if the mulch is applied late in the summer, it doesn’t do as effective a job. When I attack my sins early on, they are easier to change, especially if they involve habits. If I wait until later, it becomes a larger challenge.
There’s probably no way in this life to avoid having the small room available for sin to take root. What I can do, though, is feed the soil of my soul with the sacraments that will help me keep sin at bay. I can surround myself with Jesus, who conquered all sin, and keep company with the saints and people of good influence. I can try to avoid the near occasions that surround me, and pray my way through the ones I stumble into.
A weed needs so little room, and so does sin. I need a lot of help to keep the way clear. Those weeds don’t waste any time in getting started…and neither should I!
Modified from a post originally published September 5, 2006
I find her in the most unexpected places, in the most unexpected times, just when I need her. She’ll be there, quiet and serene, not judging or pointing her finger.
She’s just waiting for the chance to hug me. And to take me to her Son, who will heal me (and hold me) as often as I need it.
In that first iris, the one that seems to be blooming way before all the rest of the irises around our house, I saw peace.
I’ve been reflecting on peace a lot this weekend. That was supposed to be a focus for me this year.
Peace has come to be an umbrella for me, protecting me from the onslaught of life. Maybe a better image is that of a special shield all around me.
(Yeah, I know, I’m quoting myself. But I needed that picture of peace, so maybe you do too.)
In that solitary iris, I saw a glimmer of something I had almost forgotten in a recent mental funk: peace.
I find it, so often, when I curl up in Mother Mary’s lap and let her stroke my brow. I find it when I turn to her holding my blankie prayer crumpled in my fist. I find it in the sudden unexpectedness of spring.
She’s there, in that iris, as the Lady of Sorrows, and she reminds me of the many family members I hold close in prayer (whether they know it or not).
One blooming flower made all the difference for me on that day of mental funk.
One flower.
Looking at the pineys (which you might call peonies) waiting to burst and the bleeding hearts starting to explode, I know Mary is out there, in my garden, smiling at me.
The question is not if she’s there. The question is…will I choose to see her?
Outside my window: It’s not my window and it’s not early morning as I look out, but there is sunshine and piles of snow waiting to finish melting. Glorious!
Rambling thoughts: Spring is springing and this Sunday is the time change. Usually I complain…but I’m not this year. I’m holding my arms open and welcoming spring (and ignoring the wasps).
In thanksgiving: For family. For hugs around my legs. For baskets of clothes to fold and a prayer to say as I fold them.
Folded hands, bowed head: For a special, special intention that I’ve been holding close for many months.
Kitchen meanderings: I have a kitchen? No, seriously, I am so out-of-tune with my kitchen…and that’s OK. I signed up for the free Rouxbe trial through Catholic Foodie and…(plug your ears, I’m going to start yelling in my excitement)…WOW! It’s just what I’ve been complaining about for years. So. My menu is suffering a bit for lack of planning, and there’s no hope for it anytime soon, but as long as I keep making corn bread (I almost have Danielle’s recipe memorized), I think I’ll be forgiven. And hey, doesn’t spring = grill? (It does this year!)
Nose inserted: I’m working on slowly reading the Catechism and companion books. For my fun reading, I just started In-Sight, by Gerard Webster, which I received from the author. I think it’s going to be one of those novels that I’m not going to be sorry to tell you about…but I need to stay awake during my reading time first (the book is not putting me to sleep…I’m just getting started too late!).
Recent reads: Oh, I can’t wait to tell you about Lost Mission, by Athol Dickson, and there’s at least one post brewing in me about Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters, by Meg Meeker.
In my ears: I’m catching up on podcasts, but I’m also really enjoying the Gerard Faucheux album I downloaded a few weeks ago. If you haven’t checked it out, you should.
Around the house: Toddler sleeping, preschooler watching a movie, mother-in-law talking on the phone.
A favorite thing: The weekly novel installments at CatholicMom.com. Right now, they’re featuring Through the Open Window, a book I read recently and found very entertaining.
Food for thought: From my Mary Vitamin this morning:
I beg you, my Divine Jesus, to send me a humiliation whenever I try to set myself above others. But, you know my weakness, Lord. Every morning I make a resolution to practice humility and in the evening I recognize that I have committed again many faults of pride. At this I am tempted to become discouraged but I know that discouragement is also pride. Therefore O my God, I want to base my hope in You alone.
The Prayers of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, (ICS Publications: 1997)
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Here at Snoring Scholar, you'll find marriage and motherhood, book talk and rambling remarks, observations and distractions, in the midst of life in rural Ohio on a farm, with kids, critters, and Catholic flair.
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