Heaven Help Me!

I haven’t written a post in a while. I have about five drafts that are unfinished and unpublished, but I can’t seem to break through and write something substantive.

Until I get there, please enjoy the ‘Archives’ ! There is a lot there; a lot of really good writing and many funny stories. I have faith that I’ll get back on track soon. Keep checking back!

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I am wearing black today. Both of my Roombas died within a week of each other. Bad timing I say. School is about to start and there is NO way I want to even attempt to keep my house clean without these little buddies of mine.

They work to keep my house immaculate all day long, while I cook, clean up, read and teach the kids all day long. I have to say that this is a modern convenience I do not like to do without. Mud, grass, cereal spilled all over the floor…I can continue teaching and the kids can continue learning while the Roomba cleans them up.

However, when I have to go without them, I pause before ordering new ones. Here’s why:

1. While it is not outside of the realm of my vocation to own these devices, it may be outside the realm for my children. What I mean is that I know for sure that it is ok for me (as a homeschooling mother of six, and a wife, a sister, a daughter and a friend) to use any tool necessary to get done what I need to get done in my day. However, I know I need to instill good work habits in my children, and using a robot to clean may not do this. I especially became concerned about this when I asked my six year old to sweep the floor the other day, and, instead she pulled out the Roomba to do it, pushed the ‘on’ button, then ran off to play (until I called her back to do it the way I asked).  Well, I don’t blame her – it makes my life easier, too! How can I ask them to sweep the floor, when I prefer the Roomba over a broom myself?

2. They are expensive! The going rate right now for a Roomba is $199 for the base model.  This is a lot of money for us. Still, it is cheaper than weekly maid service, which costs $120 a week for our home. I can use the Roomba daily for a year and pay a total of $199. That seems to be the better deal.

3. They break.  The Roombas I have owned are susceptible to “technical difficulties”. They require some kind of fixing or cleaning (cleaning a vacuum cleaner? yes, that’s the annoying part!) after using them for a couple months. The batteries wear out quickly and they eventually just break down. IRobot customer service used to be wonderful and based in USA, but lately it has gone downhill.

4. The less fortunate do not own these. Through centuries women have cooked and cleaned like madwomen and somehow found a way to live without dishwashers, roombas and the like. In particular, the less fortunate throughout the world today do not have such things – it bothers my conscience to be so spoiled. At the same time, I know women with large families in the 40′s & 50′s who had nervous breakdowns from trying to “do it all”.  My dishwasher helps my children get read to more often, and keeps my kitchen from becoming grossly unsanitary. To me, a Roomba is another tool that helps me achieve this goal. I guess the solution is to use these tools mindful of how fortunate I am, but also mindful that I haven’t found a perfect solution yet.

VS.

Any opinions?

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I am spending today with a bunch of dead people. No, I do not work at a morgue. I am at the cemetery. Today is All Soul’s Day, and my dear husband has given me a “day off” of retreat to spend as I wish. Before leaving today, we talked about where I planned to go. I have been craving some quiet one-on-one time with my maker, and as I said to Nick, “What I really need is a swift kick in the pants!”

The difference between myself and all the people six feet under is that while their bodies are dead, their souls are still alive. For me, my body is alive, but my soul is nearly dead from a lack of prayer, a lack of grace. I’ve stubbornly been avoiding asking Him for it. Clearly, He would give it; the problem is me not wanting to fall again. I know this is where to trust in God’s infinite mercy… but as St. Paul says, “For I do not do what I would like to do, but instead I do what I hate….  For even though the desire to do good is in me, I am not able to do it.” Ever been in a rut such as this?

Despite all those wise words from persons much wiser than myself on living the spiritual life, being a busy homeschooling mom of six living children has made me somber – slightly joy-less – I’m not a bad mommy – but if only I disciplined my mind, I could be so much better – like Zelie Martin. Hence, my first stop today:  St. Joseph’s Cemetery.

Thousands of mortal remains have been laid to rest here. It is a chilly autumn day. The wind is churning; echoing its sound: “You are dust, to dust you shall return.” As I walk through the crunchy leaves, shades of goldenrod, orange, and red, I am surrounded by towering monuments and level grave markers. One overriding thought pervades my mind: This someday will be me. Death is the one inevitable thing that happens to us all.  Although we try to do many things to delay its onset, age-defying remedies such as cosmetics, diet, or lifestyle changes, even these things cannot prevent the simple truth: We are destined for death.

A healthy dose of this reality around the “mini-Triduum” of All Hallow’s Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls Day can do one no harm. I am not afraid of death, per se. But I am afraid of the judgment, since I am not sure that I have made the most of every waking moment I’ve lived here on earth. This is where one has to trust in God’s mercy.

My current issue, as aforementioned, is that I am tired. It is not due to a lack of rest, or some solitude every day – my dear husband is sure to make sure I have such time everyday. I just feel tired. How much of this is reasonably due to the pressures of my vocation is undisputed. But how much as this, in spite of the pressures of my vocation, I am allowing to overwhelm me, is another story.

How many mixed feelings I have about needing to be “comfortable”, have a “life of my own outside my family”,  and generally needing “free time”. Why would I desire such things, when I clearly have everything I need to be happy and realize I am blessed beyond belief? The thought is strange to me, too. So, what I’ve decided to do, is to examine this today. To recall the many times, previous to today, I could say with absolute certainty that there is no need for my vocation to be “split”, between my self and those who need my help for their very existence, and prospering.

So, with the tombstones in the background for scenery, I am reading “Story of a Soul: The Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux”. What I’m finding is that this young women, who was never married, never gave birth, and was 13 years younger than I at the time of her death speaks volumes of wisdom on not only family life and concern for the poor, but living and loving others in general.

I have not progressed through the whole book yet, but will write again, after I’ve had the chance to process what I’ve read.

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Despite my earlier posts on my status as a “cat-lover”, learning that our dog is seriously ill has enkindled a great love for her within me, and a desire to appreciate her for as long as she lives.

Snoop has been diagnosed with pancreatitis and has been hospitilized for the past four days.

She started to seem sick early last week. So, I called the vet and they recommended I give her some medicine & she’d be fine. When she didn’t respond to the medicine as well as expected, I began to worry about her. The next morning we woke up and she looked like hell. Fortunately, Nick was home, so I didn’t have to deal with all the details of feeding the children and getting them ready to go out (which I knew would slow me down immensely), so I could just rush out and take our sick puppy to the doctor.

We believe the pancreatitis was triggered by Snoop eating something she usually doesn’t get – that her body couldn’t process. The vet said his initial impression was that she had been poisoned. The only thing we gave her that she doesn’t usually get was an organic, all-natural “dental chew” bone that I bought from REI. Although one can not know the cause of pancreatitis for certain, the bone is the only thing in her diet that’s changed.

I should have remembered that organic natural stuff is not regulated as well as non-organic. And unfortunately, with organic being akin to big business, it does not necessarily guarantee that it’s safer.

Well, bone or no bone, our dog is on an IV at the hospital, getting antibiotics and anti-nausea medicine daily until she recovers enough to come home.

You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone (Or there is the threat of it being gone).

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As is tradition in our home, we celebrate our name days, just as much, if not more so, as a birthday or holiday. Special treats and/or activties are picked out by the child of honor and shared with the family. They enjoy a special day with incense burned and the icon of their patron proudly displayed on the center table. They are given special prayers and reminders of who they are named after. If they are older, we ask them to teach their siblings about the special qualities of their saint. The children learn that their patrons, although imperfect, with “warts and all” demonstrate ways of attaining their final goal in this life. Saints are real life examples, like my grandmother who prayed incessantly for me when she was alive (which is a very interesting story for another post… hopefully soon), of a way to live the “good life”.

Friday, July 31st, was the feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola. Just as we celebrate with our living children, we went to the cemetery to smile with the child we lost. I explained to my daughter that she “had to go with me” to the cemetery again, because if she were no longer living, she could be darn sure we’d be there with her on her name day.

So, we said some prayers and chatted a little while, enjoying the beautiful, sunny weather that day.

Ignatius’ grave has been nicely decorated. Thank you to all who have sent something! There are the original roses the children and I put there over a month ago, but now there are a couple vases with dehydrated flowers that still smell very pretty, a Chicago White Sox teddy bear, and some now deflated balloons which say “Happy Birthday!” and “I love you”. Thank you, thank you whoever you are – although I don’t know who sent these, I am hoping you might read my blog & thus, you’ll receive our gratitude.

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I wrote an earlier post on our miscarriage experience which explained that part of our coming to peace with this is knowing that we might be able to help someone someday. We were contacted by a reporter who decided to publish our story in the Archdiocese of Chicago’s newspaper, The Catholic New World . A link to the article can be found here.

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