Small Steps Together: Fasting

Right around Christmastime, I was really sick. In hindsight, I don't think I recognized how sick, even though I knew something was wrong. I gained fifteen pounds in fifteen days. My body temperature struggled to get above 96 degrees. I could barely keep my eyes open. I had sores all over the inside of my mouth. And I really felt as if my body was attacking itself.

I have long known that I have a gluten sensitivity. Back in my wheat grinding, four-loaves-a-day-baking days, I would get hives on my face if I reached up to push my hair away from eyes with flour-dusted hands. My mouth itched when I ate bread. After struggling with these symptoms, infertility, and depression for a few years, I got serious about cutting gluten out of my life. Four months later, I was pregnant. And then, I was really good about keeping gluten away. Sarah was conceived shortly after Karoline's first birthday. Then, on bedrest, gluten crept in. I was at the mercy of people bringing me food and I just didn't want to be picky. I was too shy to ask people to avoid wheat. So, I tried to eat around the wheat and just did the best I could. I never really cleaned up my act again.

During Advent, it's particularly difficult to stay away from wheat. Just a little bit here and there, a cookie (or even a piece of one), something fried at a party where there is nothing but appetizers with some form of gluten. I didn't do well, despite my best intentions. So there was the gluten allergy--an autoimmune response with intensity.

At the same time, my thyroid did its own autoimmune dance. Not entirely unexpected; pregnancy is hard on a thyroid (nine of those, even harder) and radiation is really hard on a thyroid (but good for curing lymphoma). My thyroid has done it's very best well past when they thought it would quit, but it's tuckered out.

I plodded through January with thyroid medication. Some relief, but really, very little. And then, someone connected dots for me. There is quite a connection between gluten intolerance and thyroid disease. The more I looked, the more I found. And there is also a connection between gluten intolerance and lymphoma. There's a lot medical science has not yet discovered, but what's already there is really enough for me. Those dots, they were connected.

No more gluten. Not even a little. Ever.

I talked to my pastor. I talked to the priest at the mission church. Both of them were very supportive. All I needed to do to get a very low gluten host was to ask before Mass. And to come up before the rest of the congregation to receive. What a gift!

But, for an introvert, that asking--every time drawing attention to my special need-- and that setting myself apart by going up ahead, that's hard. If you are naturally extroverted and not at all shy, you'll have to take my word for it. That's effort. It's sacrifice. It also requires that I always, always get to Mass early, so that I can ask. If we squeak in just before time or we are even a second late, it's too late. I have to go without Communion.

But it's a sacrifice necessary to receive our Lord!

It's gift. It's grace. Actual grace.

And this time, it's not so hard to stay away from even the little bits of gluten. I look at that puddle of carmelized deliciousness that has pooled in the center of the monkey bread and I know that it has slid down warm, yeasty rolls. So, it is forbidden. And instead of swiping my finger through just a little, just a taste,  I remember that I won't even meet Jesus in the wheat. If I won't have even a wafer of wheat for God Himself, why would I have it for that sticky sugar? And with the thought of Him comes all the strength I need to abstain.

When I pull up at the fast food restaurant, all of us far from home at dinner time, and my stomach is growling and I'm met by a sign that says "All foods come in contact with other foods. Nothing is gluten free" I order a big lemonade and I am grateful, insanely grateful for something filling my stomach. Another time, another place, and it's water. No food at all; there is nothing for me. But somehow, the liquid is enough. God fills the space.

This Lent, I am encouraged to go beyond wheat, to embrace the spiritual discipline of fasting and to trust that God will bless my efforts to the benefit of my soul.

 And Jesus rebuked him, and the devil went out of him, and the child was cured from that hour. Then came the disciples to Jesus secretly, and said: Why could not we cast him out? Jesus said to them: Because of your unbelief. For, amen I say to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you shall say to this mountain: Remove from hence hither, and it shall remove: and nothing shall be impossible to you. But this kind is not cast out but by prayer and fasting.

Matthew 17:17-20

I remember that He comes to me in the wafer that tastes like brittle burned rice, but He comes. He offers the grace to abstain. So too, does He offer the grace to fast.

When my children ask what to give up for Lent, I always tell them to give up something that they cannot possibly give up on their own, something that will make them call upon God for help. Sometimes, God decides what that will be. When He does, He provides all the grace we need. We are just called to cooperate.

I can do this! By the grace of God.

As Lent begins, the thoughts of the church turn to sacrifice: prayer, fasting, almsgiving.  Small Steps focuses and sacrifice this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.

Speaking of Lent...

 

Did you know that all those Lenten Fast-Pray-Give prompts from last year are included in the Small Steps for Catholic Moms Companion Journal?

There, you will find an essay for each of the virtues explored in Small Steps and directed study for you to use alone or in a group. But wait! There's more! You will also find special devotions for every day of Lent. Instead of the Think, Pray, Act format of Small Steps, we wrote short daily ideas for fasting, praying, and offering sacrifices. If you think this might be just the thing for you this Lent, and you order before Friday, I'll sign your copy and mail it Priority Mail, Friday afternoon, in order for you to get it by Ash Wednesday.

{I'm sorry, no international orders this time. And only while supplies last.}

UPDATE: Oh my goodness! We're all sold out of Companion Journals.You can still order here.

Mail leaves before Friday. Thank you!

Small Steps Together: Give up

In these days before Lent, we start to feel a little restless. Particularly when Lent is so late, we are ready to dig in and start to do the hard spiritual work. I've heard from several mothers who tell me that they are really ready this year, all set to go because Lent is late enough to give them a head start.

At Mass on Sunday, I was hoping to hear a homily about preparing to sacrifice. Instead, I heard a homily about what is paid for by the Bishop's Lenten Appeal. And the priest, bless his heart, warned that next week's homily will also be about the appeal for money. I get it. the Church needs money to do what it does. And the pastors are asked to ask for money. But I was bummed. This is the year of Matthew; most of the gospel readings this year are taken from Matthew. I love Matthew! I love the gospel of Matthew so much that my second son is named Matthew Christian. And Sunday's reading is probably my favorite scripture passage of all. It is definitely the first scripture I memorized. As a little girl, looking for some kind of instruction book for life, I read it under the covers at night, with the light from the hallway. I read Matthew from the Children's Living Bible, because that's what I had. And I believed.

Here, I've quoted from the New American Bible, as it was read in church on Sunday.

24

  "No one can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.

25

  "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat (or drink), or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?

26

Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?

27

Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span? 

28

Why are you anxious about clothes? Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin.

29

But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them.

30

If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith?

31

So do not worry and say, 'What are we to eat?' or 'What are we to drink?' or 'What are we to wear?'

32

All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.

33

But seek first the kingdom (of God) and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides.

34

Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.

So, what does any of this have to do with sacrifice? With Lent? More and more as I look toward Lent and ask God what He would have me do or not do, the answer is clear. What do you want me to give up, God?

Just give up.

Give up me. All of me. Give up worry. And all my illusions of control. Do I really want to be in control anyway? Wouldn't it be better for all of us if God were in control? What is worry anyway? Can I hold worry and trust in the same soul? If my soul is filled with worry, if I am anxious about the things of this world, can it be filled with Him? If I am worried, am I really able to seek God's kingdom and His righteousness?

When I was in college, I had friends who deliberately studied in the libraries of the pre-professional schools most likely to turn out the highest paying graduates. They weren't in those schools, but they wanted to marry someone who was. I remember thinking they were joking when they talked about marrying money. I remember being at a loss for words when someone dear told me that you can marry for love or you can marry for money, but she never saw it happen that you got both. Good grief! How do you do that? Marry for money? Marriage is hard enough work when you're madly in love! How can you possibly make it work if you didn't even marry in love to begin?

I didn't much care about money. These verses were etched deep in my heart. And besides, I was totally, head over heels in love. So, it worked for me, to blithely move through life singing "Consider the lilies of the field."

We did just fine, living on love. We did better than fine.

Over the years, things have crept in. We've had lots of opportunities and plenty of ... plenty. We know what it is to live with abundance. Somewhere along the way, amidst the plenty, I learned to worry. I worry about eating and drinking and yes, even clothes. Can worry add to lifespan? No, but oh, by the way, I worry about lifespan, too. And tied tightly to my tendency to worry is my attempt to control. Kids will do that to you. You want the best for them, to make their lives just so, and before you know it, you start playing God.

When I was a child, I believed that a good God was going to take care of me, that it would all be just fine, even good. Now, I'm a mother, can I believe that God is going to take care of my children? That He can do even more for them--for their good-- than I can imagine? Can I stop worrying about it all? Start trusting wholeheartedly?

Can I give up?

Let go?

Sacrifice my illusion of control for His promise of more?

It's time to try.

Have you begun to think about sacrifice as the calendar page turned to March?  How has Small Steps blessed, challenged you, encouraged you on your journey? Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion.

Small Steps Together: Hear Him well, Lest It be Lost

"The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost." –GK Chesterton

It is, without a doubt, the greatest lesson of my life--that every day is a gift and I'm created to see the sacred offering in even the ordinary days. He offers us each and every moment to fill as we will. And when we hold those moments as the precious, priceless gifts they are and fill them intentionally with the things of God, we truly live our lives.

It's really very simple.

So why do I mess it up so often? Why do I miss God in the moment and trash the gift? Why do I waste time? Why do I hurt the people I love? Why do I take an errant comment and make it an epic argument? Why do I act like a spoiled brat surrounded by way too much after a sugar-laden, way-too-many-people birthday party?

Because I forget that I am the daughter of a humble, heroic, awesome God.

It's so simple.

Why do I forget?

"True simplicity is like that of children, who think, speak, and act candidly and without craftiness. They believe whatever is told them; they have no care or thought for themselves, especially when with their parents; they cling to them, without going to seek their own satisfactions and consolations, which they take in good faith and enjoy with simplicity, without any curiosity about their causes and effects."--St. Francis de Sales

I want to walk in the light of God, to carry myself through my days in such a way that it is umistakable that I am His and He directs my paths. I want to be the child who believes what He tells me and then acts on that belief as naturally as I breathe the air. I want to remember that He is the good parent I so desperately need.

I want to go about my daily round serving the people He has entrusted to me, recognizing the places He wants me to go. I want this with all my heart--just to live the life He intends me to live.

I want to cling to Him.  Can I cling to Him?

Can I be selfless, caring not at all for my own satisfactions or consolations. Can I turn away from the affirmation of other people and seek only to know that I walk confidently in His will?

Will my life ever be that simple? Will it ever be the gift He intended?

Yes.

Yes!

I think it will.

But only if I can do that one thing. Only if I can fill myself with Him. Only if I can be the child who surrenders to Him completely and entrusts Him to care for me tenderly.The thing is--the simple, important thing is--I can't walk confidently with God throughout the day if I am not intimately acquainted with God and I can't be intimately acquainted with God without having His Word be the firm and gentle hand of a loving Father to which I cling.

Only if my day--my every moment--echoes with His Word. This is how I can know Him, in the Word and in the Sacrament. So that as I move through the world, in every corner of my home and the vast expanses of the marketplace, God goes with me. I hear Him in the Hours that punctuate the phrases of my day; I hear Him in the words of the daily Mass-- a familiar cadence of Scripture; I hear Him as I cultivate new habits; as I listen while I fold, and wipe, and cook; as I deliberately hide Him in my heart.

It's simple, really. When I hear Him well, when I hear Him always, I live the gift.

Did you take small steps towards simplicity this week? How has Small Steps blessed, challenged you, encouraged you on your journey? Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. 

Small Steps Together: S-I-M-P-L-I-C-I-T-Y

{edited repost from the archives}

A few of years ago, I found some wooden letters at a craft store in May and painted them blue. I spelled "Full of Grace" and set them up on a table with some Marian items. I loved the way it look and the mood it brought into the room. In December, I borrowed Cheryl's idea  and propped the word "Prepare" on the mantel. Then, when Lent rolled around, I switched out some of the letters and I spelled "Repent." It was only natural that year when we went to "hide our Alleluia" that the "Alleluia" be letters for the mantel during the Easter season. One thing led to another and, with Danielle Bean, I brainstormed a virtue for every month of the year--and those were the virtues we used when we wrote a book, focusing on one virtue a month. In order to keep myself focused and to include my family in the endeavor, I set about collecting sets of letters for each month's virtue and then propped those letters on the mantel remind us all to strive for virtue.
This month is all about simplicity.

I've written before about how "not simple" my life is. I think there is a common notion that simplicity strips things bare--that it requires us all to live lives devoid of the richness and textured complexity our Lord offers us. I don't see it that way. I see simplicity being the clearest expression of faith. I think that simplicity and authenticity are intertwined. When we are being the person we were created to be--when we are authentic--we relate to God and to one another with simple charity.That's simplicity.

When we embrace simplicity, we are content. We know that sometimes we might have the resources to cook an elaborate meal and sometimes, we cook with few ingredients. Both can represent simplicity of heart.It's not the complexity of the meal that matters; it's the disposition of the cook while she prepares the meal. We can practice the virtue of simplicity in times of fasting and of feasting. There will be seasons in our lives when lessons are short and simple and we might even just need to follow the directions of another. And there may be seasons when lessons are a grand adventure, carefully planned and executed over time. What matters is that we do whatever He tells us. It's about seeking and doing God's will, without excessive intellectual wrangling, dissertations and discussions.Don't think it to death. St. Paul writes, "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

It's not complicated. It's simple.

However, often, we think things to death; we complicate ourselves.We twist in the wind and reinvent ourselves again and again, complicating our spiritual lives and muddling our relationships.Simplicity isn't a decorating style, a cooking style, a clothing style. When we seek to cultivate the virtue of simplicity, we seek simplicity of heart. And simplicity of faith. It's not restless searching and seeking. It's resting in Him and reflecting His pure [and simple] love. It doesn't matter much what I wear or how I cook or what my  home management style is if I am not close to God.

When a simple soul is to act, it considers only what it is suitable to do or say and then immediately begins the action, without losing time in thinking what others will do or say about it. And after doing what seemed right, it dismisses the subject; or if, perhaps any thought of what others may say or do should arise, it instantly cuts short such reflections, for it has no other aim than to please God, and not creatures, except as the love of God requires it. Therefore, it cannot  bear to be turned aside from its purpose of keeping close to God, and winning more and more of His love for itself.~St. Francis de Sales

Did you take small steps towards simplicity this week? How has Small Steps blessed, challenged you, encouraged you on your journey? Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion.