Small Steps Together: Cocooning and Flying Free

I have long loved early childhood. From the time I was very little, I have invested much thought and prayer into the mother of young children I feel called to be. Much to the chagrin of pretty much everyone except my husband, I even majored in early childhood in college. (Just an aside: I had enough nursing and anatomy/physiology credits to also be certified to teach health and PE. God had a plan. I grew up to educate children who, when asked to name their school, inform the general public that they attend the Foss Academy for the Athletically Inclined. But I digress.)

 

I have held tightly to the promise that it's never too late to have a happy childhood. And since mine was not childish or carefree, I've set out very deliberately to create for my children what I think I might have missed and to enjoy it alongside them. Deep in my heart, my fondest wish was to be the very good mother of young children. You might say that I've dedicated my adult  life to that task.

Not too long ago, I can't remember where, I read about a woman around my age who said that she was too busy with her grown kids and teenagers to mourn the fact that her babies were growing up and there would soon be no wee ones in her house. I'm not. I'm not too busy. There are still small children in my house and they slow me, still me. I still stay with them at night as they drift off to sleep. I still sit with them at the table as they eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, ever so slowly. I bathe them and brush their hair and braid it up before bed. I sit and rock and hold and read. I still thank God for them with every breath, much like I did the day they were born. I have plenty of time in the course of my day to be still and know that these are precious moments that will not be a part of my days in the not too distant future. 

In a way, I envy those women who blithely move along to the next stage of life and smile brightly and say, "There! That's finished. Wasn't it grand? Now what's next?" I'm not one of them. Perhaps I'm just not good at transitions. I sobbed at my high school graduation. I remember how reluctantly I traded my wedding gown for my "going away" clothes. I cried so hard when Michael left for college that I had to pull over because I couldn't see to drive. I held more tightly to each newborn than the one before. And this last one? I don't think I put her down at all for the first twelve weeks. My intimate relationships are deep and rooted and meaningful. When I live something, I feel it. 

I know it's time.

I know because my environment cries out that it is so. My house is full to overflowing with people. Several of them are more than twice the size they were when we moved in here. Some have left and come back and brought with them more of their own stuff. We are bursting at the seams. It is time to acknowledge that we are in a new season of life and to allow my house to reflect that.

And so. I cocoon. Somehow I know that this is intense, deeply personal business and at the end I will be the same and yet, forever different. I spin a silken thread tightly around my home. My cell phone goes dead. I don't recharge it. I don't touch my laptop. I don't carry the house phone with me. I don't leave for several days. It is time to conquer all those recesses of my home that I neglected while I held babies. It is time to let go.

We need space. We no longer need a co-sleeper. Or the sheets to go with it. We don't need a swing. I begin in the basement.

We don't need three neatly labeled boxes of beautiful thick, pink, cotton clothes -- 0-3 months, 6-9 months, 9-18 months. I carefully save the christening gown, the sweet baptism booties, the first dress Karoline wore to match Katie and Mary Beth. The rest I fold into giveaway bags.  Michael takes the baby "things" to the Salvation Army on Friday.The clothes remain until Saturday morning. The Children's Center truck is due to arrive at 8 AM. After I've finished with the clothes, I cannot  stay here in this basement on Friday. I've done what I know will be the most difficult task. I also know I'm nearly suffocating.  I need to go upstairs and get some air. 

I begin in Mike's office. This isn't really my mess or my stuff or even the stuff of children who haven't been carefully supervised. It is just the overflow of two busy adults who pile and stuff a bit too much. He doesn't use this room. It's a lovely room in the middle of the house with a bright window. I put a new sewing machine on the desk. I rearrange shelves, discarding things he no longer needs. I spend an hour or so carefully dusting his youth trophies and 25 years of sports paraphernalia. I think about this post and I know that we can (and should) share this space. I move some baskets in. My yarn, my knitting and sewing books, a few carefully folded lengths of fabric, holding place for a stash to come.

I stitch a few things in that room. And I am happy there. I am no longer knitting in my womb. But I am still creating. And it makes me happy. My arms are ever more often empty, but my hands are increasingly free for other pursuits. Still, a small voice whispers, knitting and sewing are nothing like the co-creation you've done for the last 22 years. I hush the voice. I have no idea where this is going. He is the Creator. He has written a beautiful pattern for my life. All He asks is that I knit according to His plan. Trust the pattern.

On Saturday morning, that truck comes. I can't even watch as they load my dear boxes. My stomach clenches and my eyes fill with tears. Things. They are only things. The girls who wore those things are safe in my arms. Another mother will be blessed to hold a sweet pink cotton bundle close and nuzzle her cheeks. I descend to the basement.

Here. Here is where I must force myself to cocoon. Here is where ten years of "put this carefully in the craft room" will come back to haunt me. They have tossed at will every single time. It never recovered from the great flooring shuffle. I do pretty well with the rest of the house, but I dislike coming down to the basement and Mike rarely comes down here. So, here is where the disorder has collected. The "craft room" is a jumble of stored clothes, curriculum, craft supplies, and 25 years of family photos. It is a mess.

I am humbled by the mess. Quite literally driven to my knees. But I have spun myself into this small space and here I will stay until I can emerge beautifully.

I have banished all outside interruptions, but I have brought with me the Audible version of this book. Good thing, too, because I will benefit greatly from the message within and, frankly, I will need to hear the narrator say "You are a good mom" as often as she does. 

I see the abandoned half-finished projects, the still shrinkwrapped books, the long lingering fabric and lace. Did I miss it? Did I miss the opportunity to do the meaningful things? To be the good mom I want to be? I am nearly crushed by the weight of the money I've spent on these things and the remanants of my poor stewardship.What was I doing when this mess was being made? To be sure some of the time was sadly wasted. It is easy to berate myself for time slipped through my fingers. Cocoons are really rather nasty things.

Determined, I clear out the clutter. I tell myself that life is not black and white. It's not all bad or all good.  I fold fabric and recognize that what I have here is the beginning of some new projects. I gather acorn caps and felt and label them and tuck them away for the fall. I make a very large stack of books to sell secondhand. I sort and sweep and remember. I see picture after picture of smiling children. I see, in those color images, time well spent. Time well filled.  Their mama always looks tired. I recognize in  those pictures that my children were happy--are happy. And I also recognize that it's been a little while now since I felt that tired. It is true that much of my time in the last twenty years, I have been filling well. I have been holding and rocking and nursing and coloring and listening and reading and giving and giving...I have been cherishing childhood. And it is a true that in a household this size, it is darn near impossible for every corner of the house to remain clean and every lesson to be carried out according to plan ,while caring well for babies and toddlers.  Messes happen.

The season just passed? The very long season? It was good and full and messy and cluttered. It was bursting-at-the-seams joyful in a way nothing ever will be again. It was also very hard work. Very, very hard work.There were utter failures and big mistakes. And there was a whole lot of good. 

This new season? I don't know yet. It's not nearly as cluttered. I have stayed in this cocoon until every corner of my home, every nook and every cranny, has been cleared of the clutter of the last season. Every poor choice, every undisciplined mess has been repurposed. Every single one. I can see my way clear to do the meaningful things. And the blessing is that there are still plenty of children in this house to do them with me.

As I sweep the room for the last time before considering this a job well done, I see a picture that has slid under a bookshelf. It is Mike and me at our wedding rehearsal. I stare long and hard at that girl. But I stare longer at him. He is still every bit as happy as he was that night. Happier, really. Really happier. These days in this cocoon, I have been brutally honest with myself. I've held myself accountable for every transgression. I have humbled myself before God and I have confessed my sins.  I look at his image and then back at mine and I realize something very important. Whatever my failings, I have consistently been a good wife. I wonder at the ease with which this recognition comes to me. I am certain that much of it is born of his frequent words of affirmation. I know it is so because he has told me it is so. But why is it so?

Grace. 

Ours is a gracious God. It is only by His grace that I am the wife I am. And it is by His grace that I have this sense of peace about the most important relationship in my life. These children willl grow in the safe home he and I have created together. And then they will fly. Mike and I? We will be us. Always us.

I carefully put away the very last picture, turn out the light, and climb the stairs.

I've cleared out the clutter, made peace with the past. I've learned a very valuable lesson that I'm long going to be pondering in my heart. It's time to fly free.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Small Steps focuses on humility 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.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.

Small Steps Together: Gentleness in the Real World

As I've watched college students graduate recently, I've noticed a distressing trend. Campus ministries are becoming better, teaching orthodoxy without hesitation. Genuinely Catholic colleges are brimming over with zealous young people.

And yet.

There is a harshness, a sort of snobbery happening. I watch in not a little horror and listen to what they are saying, as they measure other people by their overt acts of piety, while they size people up and discard them like the stuff of  yesterday's recycling bin because they don't fit the new collegiate image of perfect holiness.

And I can just imagine that several years hence, they will go together with their young children to a playdate. They will meet another young mom at the park. They will inquire as to how many children she has. And when they discover that she has two, four years apart, they will say something sanctimonious about how they are open to God's plan for having children and has she ever heard of NFP? She will sit and wonder briefly whether she should tell them about the two years of cancer between the first birth and the second, about how desperately she prayed for this second child, about what a miracle he is. That young mom, with the two children widely spaced, will have just learned how some people of faith can judge one another. Litmus tests. Checklists. As she raises a family in the real world, she will see that attitude given voice over and over and over again, while Jesus weeps for his Church, broken and divided.

What's the opposite of gentleness? Harshness. Hard lines.  Brittle rules. 

So there you are, you all grown up and graduated and out in the real world! You've come so far. You've left behind the safety of campus life, the happy campus ministry, the structure of academia. You've gone and gotten yourself a real job in the real world. With a real cubicle and a good excuse to shop at that very fine career wear store. Good for you!

You have a zeal for the faith that can be spotted a mile away. You wear it proudly splashed across your chest on more than a dozen t-shirts collected over the years of vibrant Catholic education. And you've come to embrace all those devotions of our faith as you've learned of them in your coming-of-age. You are on fire for your faith and you are eager to go out there into the real world and tell everyone just how Catholic you are. 

May I whisper a word or two to you? 

Gentleness. Humility.

Out there, in the real world, be mindful of gentleness. Don't beat people over the head with your religion. Really. You don't win souls for Christ that way. Actually, come to think of it, you don't win souls for Christ at all. The Holy Spirit does. You just listen--quietly--for the prompting of the Holy Spirit. You just pray--fervently--that you can be His instrument. And please don't think for one moment that you are better than the guy who goes to lunch at lunchtime instead of going to Mass. You're not. You are broken and messy and in need of a savior just like he is. You have been given the extraordinary gift of grace and the blessing of faith. Given it. God gave it to you.

You didn't earn it. You don't deserve it.

Humility. You know God in the Eucharist. You are blessed. He blesses you. Now, go bless someone else.

You are going to meet so many new people in the next few years. No matter how high-powered your job, no matter how life and death your decisions, you are still and always a woman of God. You are called to be as gentle as the Blessed Mother. Here's a hint towards beginning relationships and continuing relationships with gentleness: Be the girl who walks into a room--any room, every room-- and says, "There you are! How are you?" Don't be the girl who bursts onto the scene and shouts, "Here I am! Be like me!" It's not about you. It's never about you. You are a servant of God. Serve. 

I know how dearly you hope to find a Godly man who will sweep you off your feet and be the husband to the wife and the mother you feel called to be. I know you want him to be as committed to the faith as you think you are. Don't judge every person you meet with a checklist in hand. Whether it's the girl you keep bumping into in the cafeteria, or the guy who seems to ride the same bus route on your commute, don't issue litmus tests. And for goodness sake, don't do this:

Every guy I know gets slack-jawed when they watch this video ( which made the rounds last year and caused more than one married Catholic mom I know to laugh and cry and shake her head in disbelief). At first we thought it was a joke. Then, we started reading comboxes. Not a joke, at least not for some people. Who could possibly live up to this? A second-hand relic? Honey, if you think you are marrying a saint, you are in for a rude awakening. Marriage is our path to sanctification. We don't marry into sainthood; we journey towards it together. 

Here's the thing: you're going to miss a lot of good people if you make up checklists like that. And you might just miss God's plan for you, both in terms of men and real, good girlfriends. Some of the best husbands and fathers I know couldn't have checked off more than one or two things on that video when they were fresh out of college. They grew into good, holy men, often because of girls who loved them, believed in them, and shared the grace of Jesus with them. And I know people who can check off everything on the video list and, sadly, they aren't very good husbands and fathers. While lots of people can follow the rules and lots of people can do numerous acts of piety and devotion, they aren't necessarily people after God's own heart. Following the rules does not automatically equal holiness.

And isn't it interesting how in that whole long list, not one act of mercy is mentioned? You want a good husband and father? Find a merciful one. Here's a far better checklist:

• To feed the hungry;
• To give drink to the thirsty;
• To clothe the naked;
• To harbour the harbourless;
• To visit the sick;
• To ransom the captive;
• To bury the dead.

• To instruct the ignorant;
• To counsel the doubtful;
• To admonish sinners;
• To bear wrongs patiently;
• To forgive offences willingly;
• To comfort the afflicted;

In the real world, those acts of mercy can take many, many forms. Perhaps you'll find him ladling soup in a homeless shelter. That would be an easy one to spot. Or maybe he's the young medical student who circles back after a long day of work to read stories to the pediatric patients. Maybe he's the guy who listens patiently as his grandfather goes on and on about a distant memory not quite still within his reach. Or maybe he's the one who's working fulltime and getting his degree because he dreams of a large family and wants the means with which to support them. Is he the guy next door? The one who "only" goes to Sunday Mass, but who also cheerfully picks up two young soccer players and drives them to practice three times a week because their mom is bedridden? And all the while, in the car, he is their friend. Their real friend. A strong shoulder to lean on in a time of crisis at home. Just a real good guy. Look for a real good guy. Someone who will journey with you.

Don't dismiss someone just because they aren't as outwardly pious as you are. Don't dismiss people at all. There's a big world of people out there. And some of those people are people from whom God intends you to learn. Even if, at first glance, it looks as if they aren't nearly as holy or smart or good as you are. Even if they aren't as holy or smart or pious as you are.  They, too, were created in His image and each person--each and every one--is valuable. And worth your time. Don't discount someone because they aren't as up on theology as you are or because they don't "have religion."  

Remember "knowledge puffs up, but love builds up." (1 Corinthinians 8:1) 

And, to make it all trickier,  zealous people have to guard carefully against Pharasaical sins and scrupulosity.

Whether we are growing closer to God or growing closer to people, it's not about checklists. It's about relationships.

Relationships beg coming alongside, walking together.

School is finished. Now begins the real work of cultivating a teachable spirit.

It's about listening.

It's about serving.

It's about nurturing. 

It's about loving.

It's about a gentle spirit.

All the time.

It won't be easy. The gentleness thing. Pray for the grace to be gentle. We're all human, remember? As you go about your day in your busy real life world, you will brush up against broken, hurting, sinful real life human beings. They are just like you. And when you know that you are broken, too, saved by grace and gifted with faith, you will be genuinely gentle. You will look to people and assume that there is something to be learned from them, something good in them. You won't assume that because you are more pious, more obviously active in your faith, that you are closer to God. Instead, you will see Jesus in the poor, in the ordinary, even in the partier in the apartment next door.

 "This was the method that Jesus used with the apostles. He put up with their ignorance and roughness and even their infidelity. He treated sinners with a kindness and affection that caused some to be shocked, others to be scandalized and still others to hope for God’s mercy. And so He bade us to be gentle and humble of heart." -- St John Bosco

And in the end, He won their souls.

Go gently into that real world. Grow gently into a woman of genuine faith.

And God go with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Small Steps focuses on gentleness 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.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.

Grace Notes and Gentle Goodness

I know we've moved to a new month and so I'm supposed to move to a new small step, but the last couple of weeks of May moved too quickly to suit me and far too quickly to blog all that was in my head, so I'm going to squeak just a few little thoughts on grace into the first June Small Steps Together. That makes sense, doesn't it? We all rely on His grace to have the strength and the calm and the self-composure to be gentle. So let's look at some grace notes and then talk about being gentle.

From May 24th:

With light from You, I now see that I could not accomplish by myself the things that I wanted to do most. I said to myself: ‘I shall do this, I shall finish that,’ and I did not do either the one or the other. The will was there but not the power, and if the power was there, my will was not; this because I had trusted in my own strength. Sustain me then, O Lord, for alone I can do nothing. However, when You are my stability, then it is true stability; but when I am my own stability, then it is weakness. -- St Augustine

My list lately is ridiculously long. All the things I want to do. I the things I have to do. All the obstacles in the path of both want-to and have-to. I love, love, love this quote. This really is the "all" of how to be a good wife and good mother of many. Only under God's strength. Only with God's grace. And it's a constant weighing and measuring. The list itself has to be in God's will. What would He have me do with the time He has given me in any given day? And what would He have me do with the nights? So often, I push the margins of day and night, blend the boundaries beyond recognition and so defeat myself and defeat His purpose for me. Jen has some good thoughts on that this week. The important thing for me to remember is that God gives me sufficient grace for each day, every day. As long as what I'm endeavoring to do is in His will. His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:30). So, if I'm straining under the burden of my daily life, it's time to stop and pray about it--pray as long and as hard as necessary before the Holy Spirit shows me where I'm out of step, what I've taken on that isn't what He intended for me. When I do that--when I live each day intentionally, giving it back to God as my gift of grace--the list is still long but it is entirely do-able. 

One more:

May 26 (Feast of St. Philip Neri)
Think: Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and makes us persevere in a good life. Therefore the servant of God ought always to be in good spirits." (If "God Be With Us: The Maxims of St. Philip Neri)

Pray:
God, I am not always naturally in good spirits. Grant me the grace to be cheerful; remind me every moment that I live for you and no matter how dark the day appears, you can and do cheer me. With your grace, I can be in good spirits and I can persevere despite the trials that inevitably will come my way.

Act:
Are you grumpy? Ask for grace. Are you tired? Ask for grace. Are you discouraged? Ask for grace. Are you angry? Ask for grace. Be open and yielding and genuinely happy to embrace His plan. Notice that your shoulders loosen and your brow smooths. Smile. Let cheerfulness lighten you.  If necessary, fake it until it's real.

We've talked previously about the concept of faking it until it's real. And it was perhaps misunderstood by some. Sometimes, I don't feel virtuous. I don't feel cheerful or courageous or gentle. I don't feel like doing what I know God wants done. But I beg His grace and ask for His light to do virtuously anyway. And I can. By the grace of God. And then, after faking it, it does indeed become a part of me, a virtue practiced often enough that I feel it, breathe it, live it. Only by His grace.

That brings me to gentleness. Almost every woman I know struggles with gentleness. They find it doesn't come naturally. They find that fatigue, in particular, is the near occasion of sin when it comes to sinning against gentleness. They want to go gently into the good night. Mostly, though, they just want good nights.

Can I awaken, even after the restless nights, the sleepless nights, the nights filled with nursing and nebulizers and take to heart the counsel of St. Francis de Sales?

Put your soul every morning in a posture of humility, tranquility, and sweetness, and notice from time to time through the day if it has become entangled in affection for anything; and if it be not quiet, disengaged and tranquil, set it at rest.  -- St. Francis De Sales quoted in Small Steps entry for today, June 2

Humility

Tranqulity

Sweetness

A gentle-quiet heart, at peace with the Lord because I've committed my to-do list to His Will and endeavored, through His Grace, to do only what He wants me to do, to be only the person He wants me to be. With every step, through every day, remaining detached from the affection of anything that turns me away from God and His goodness. God and His gentleness.

St. Francis de Sales expects that after the morning offering, there will be times during the day when the world rocks and peace is elusive. He reminds us, with gentleness, to stop and set our souls at rest. Where and how can we do that? Shall we throw our aprons over heads the way Susanna Wesley did? Shall we lock ourselves in the bathroom, turn on the water, and pour our hearts out to God? Will it do us good to put the baby in a front pack and the toddler in the stroller and go for a brisk, prayerful walk? Whatever it is that we need to bring tranquility and sweetness to our souls, that's what God wants for us in that moment. Because He does, indeed, want us to be gentle.

All the time.

~~~~~~~~

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.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also. Comments are open for links to blog posts. Comments are moderated, so it might take a bit for you to see yours appear.

By the Grace of God

From Small Steps for Catholic Moms, May 15:

Think:
He who knows the comforts that come through the gift of grace and knows also how sharp and painful the absence of grace is will not dare think that any goodness comes from himself, but he will openly confess that of himself he is very poor and naked of all virtue.—Thomas a Kempis (Imitation of Christ)

Pray:
Show me, Jesus, the work of your hands. Bring me to my knees and give me the words to ask for your grace. Shed light on the dark places of my soul and burn away the muck. Infuse me with your goodness and help me to grow in virtue.

Act:
Page through photo albums with a child today. Share with him the moments of grace in your life. Be brave! Talk openly about the times you were afraid and how God brought good out of bad situations. Don't assume your children know the stories. Tell them!

Grace isn't really a virtue in the usual sense of the word. Grace is a gift-- a gift from God that enables the pursuit and acquisition of virtue. Without grace, we are helpless, hopeless. With grace, we are comforted, consoled, emboldened, empowered.

People ask me all the time how I do what I do. I'm always grateful when that's how it is phrased: how do you do what you do? It's a much easier question to answer than how do you do it all? I don't do it all, so to answer that particular question, I first have to explain that I don't even attempt to do it all. By that time, the questioner has lost interest because what she really wanted to know is how I do what I do. The answer there is Grace. By The Grace of God.

Nothing else. Nothing more. Certainly nothing less. When I look at the times in my life that were most peaceful, most content, even most productive, those are the times when I can see God's grace most at work. They weren't necessarily physically healthy times or tangibly productive times. They were the times when my soul was closest to God. When I knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that He was working and He was providing and He was completely in charge. The reality is that those times are times when I felt most out of control.

Tumor growing in my chest, threatening to stop the beating of my heart and the filling of my lungs?

I am powerless. Only God.

Baby growing above the placenta instead of safely below it or beside it, life-threatening hemmorage almost inevitable? I am powerless. Only God.

Four children eight and under, including two nursing babies, with a traveling husband?

I am powerless. Only God.

Dark, dark depression?

I am powerless. Only God.

In the moment--those moments-- I didn't see the grace. Perhaps, immediately, there was very little. Instead, He allowed me to feel the sharp and painful absence of grace. Sometimes, He left me there for long, long months, even years. He allowed me the precious gift of knowing that I am small and weak and I cannot live this life under my own power. He allowed me to need Him and long for Him and beg His mercy and His grace. Then, when I could not even rise from my knees, I could pray. Could beg grace. Could see the gift of the Church in the sacraments, real and actual grace available for nourishment of my soul. To confess, to be annointed, to receive Him bodily, God in His mercy provides these for the mother, the woman, who cannot truly live as He intended without the Grace of God.

And He gives us something else. In the in-between times, the times away from the church building, the every day of living, He gives us His Word. Nurtured and nourished by the sacraments, we receive regular infusions of the grace of scripture. A slow, steady drip of grace day and night, constantly watering our souls so that they are not sharp and painful and brittle.So that they are not fragile and tentative.  A day hemmed in God's word does not unravel. It doesn't. And so I've learned. The sharp and painful absences have taught me. They have taught me that there are tender non-negotiables.

To awaken early enough in the day to steep my soul in God's Word is to recognize He is the Master of my days, my moments. To read His love, to hear Him, to let those words become a part of me is to fully awaken to the day He intends. To memorize those words so that I carry them about with me throughout my daily round, so that they come readily to my mind and to my lips, to be unafraid to utter them aloud is to live a life of grace that is readily identified and genuinely appreciated by those I touch.

Grace.

I can see it. When I look back, it is obvious. The work of His hands. The unmistakable mark of His love on my life.

God, grant me the grace to see it--to seize it--in the now.

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.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.

Gracious Words

"Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones."

Proverbs 16:24

Grace. Grace is the Small Steps virtue for May.

Do you know how many definitions there are for the word "Grace?"

–noun

1.

elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action.

2.

a pleasing or attractive quality or endowment.

3.

favor or good will.

–verb (used with object)

14.

to lend or add grace to; adorn: Many fine paintings graced the rooms of the house.

15.

to favor or honor: to grace an occasion with one's presence.

—Idioms

16.

fall from grace,

a.

Theology . to relapse into sin or disfavor.

b.

to lose favor; be discredited: He fell from grace when the boss found out he had lied.

17.

have the grace to, to be so kind as to: Would you  have the grace to help, please?

18.

in someone's good / bad graces, regarded with favor (or disfavor) by someone: It is a wonder that I have managed to stay in her good graces this long.

And we haven't yet touched the uniquely Catholic definitions. I could write about grace every day for the rest of the month and not run out of definitions to explore. But this evening, I sit in a coffee shop and ask God about grace and the only thing that runs through my head is "All's grace."

It's a signature line, dear and familiar.

It's a song.

And I wonder, could it be a call to action?

This world--inside this screen, connected with the taps and touches on keyboards flung the worldwide--this world of Christian blogging?

It's getting a bad name.

But bloggers can't claim to be purveyors of clarity unless they do so with charity, she said.

"Charity is one of the biggest challenges we face," she said, because "freedom is both a gift and a source of temptation for our egos."

Elizabeth Scalia, quoted here.

It's becoming known far and wide for its vitriol.

Why, as people of a Holy God who instructed us to only use good words, is it so easy to fall into the patterns of this world? Grumbling. Spewing negativity. Finding fault with each other. Making nasty comments (all in the name of differing in opinion, of course). Why? What's the point of it? Are we not set apart to do good works? Are we not called to let our light shine before men? And what about that salt and light thing?

Adeye ~No Greater Joy Mom

For its darkness.

And not for its light.

It's not just Catholics. It's not just Evangelicals. It's not just the Eastern Orthodox. It's all of us.

All. Of. Us.

Without discrimination. I could link and link and link to examples of words cast into cyberspace without grace.

But now put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and foul talk from your mouth.
[9] Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old nature with its practices
[10] and have put on the new nature, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator.
[11] Here there cannot be Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scyth'ian, slave, free man, but Christ is all, and in all.
[12]

Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness, and patience,

[13] forbearing one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.
[14] And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.
[15] And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful.
[16] Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teach and admonish one another in all wisdom, and sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your hearts to God.
[17] And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

~~~
[23] Whatever your task, work heartily, as serving the Lord and not men,
[24] knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward; you are serving the Lord Christ.
[25] For the wrongdoer will be paid back for the wrong he has done, and there is no partiality.

Colossians 3 RSV

No partiality. He calls us all to the same standard. When we serve Him as we're called, all's grace.

Pick a definition. Which one would you like? There is no definition of grace that includes ugly words, no definition that exhorts us to eat our own. Last year, I struggled with the dark side of the internet. It was real and close and personal. I sought solace. I made peace. I was granted the grace of clarity and I found it remarkably easy to forgive.

All grace.

This spring, I watch in horror as I see graceless words, barbed and pointed, wound another. And another. I watch in wonder, from a distance this time. A safe distance?

No.

There is no safe distance. We are the body of Christ and the body is abusing itself.

It is time to stop and think and ask ourselves before posting.

Is there Grace in what I say?

Does it bless?

Bless.

Look at every definition, above and then, look at what the Church asks.

We are called to charity, yes, but we are called to more. We are called to be filled with grace. Filled with Grace. 

Actual Grace.

Temporary supernatural intervention by God to enlighten the mind or strengthen the will to perform supernatural actions that lead to heaven. Actual grace is therefore a transient divine assistance to enable man to obtain, retain, or grow in supernatural grace and the life of God.

Fr. John Hardon

STATE OF GRACE

Condition of a person who is free from mortal sin and pleasing to God. It is the state of being in God's friendship and the necessary condition of the soul at death in order to attain heaven.

 Fr. John Hardon

My question is so simple: Can we be in a state of grace while spewing or reading muck on the internet?

All's grace.

Or it should be.

To live a life of grace, we must grant each other grace.

We need to use the internet as tool to get to heaven.

It's a matter of life and death.

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.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.