How is it that I'd never processed this vital information about Epiphany? Herod sent the Wise Men. Well, God sent them first, but when they ran into Herod and he gave them a "mission" (that conflicted with God's Mission) to find the Christ child and then report back to him.
Here's the super-important part: when the Wise Men found the Christ child, they were overcome by His presence and they did NOT report back to Herod.
Okay, you may be thinking, "Duh. This is the basic story. We all know it."
I knew it so well, I had been missing a giant part of its meaning.
We all have some naysayers in our lives. Perhaps those who want to find fault in you especially because you are Christian. Those hell-bent on "destroying" you through their gossip (or worse). Well, while the Wise Men themselves did not want to destroy Christ, Herod sure did. And he was certainly happy to try to get the Wise Men to help him out with his plans. But when they arrived, they could see Him in all His glory and they did not want Him killed. An angel advised them not to return to Herod.
That's what I want people to see in us, in our family, shining through the cracks of our imperfection. I want them to see Christ. And when they see this, I pray that they turn their backs on the Herod within them and find their way Home by a different route.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Adoption and pride and being stuck
I lay in bed this morning thinking of a "conversation" that happened in social media the other day. (I put "conversation" in quotes because nothing that happens in social media is a real conversation, but I know no other word for it.) One of my friend posted a link to an article about how our state may make surrogate motherhood illegal. (I have no comments about that. This post is not about that, but rather about what the post led to.) Another person commented below the article, "This is horrible! What about all the women who can't have babies? What will they do?"
A million thoughts went through my head. The first was, "You should stay out of this conversation. You are going to tick someone off." But I rarely listen to that voice. The next flurry of thoughts included, "Really? How many people really use a surrogate?", as well as the thought I posted, which said, "Well, those women could adopt one of the million children on this planet without a family." I did it. I ticked someone off. Immediately. I was told my comment was cold-hearted and I don't understand how hard and how expensive it is to adopt.
Au contraire, mes amies, I do understand. I have three children through the miracle of adoption. Is adoption easy? No. Is it supposed to be? But it is also not expensive. Or it doesn't have to be. Often adopting children out of foster care has little or no cost. And there are many, many ways to make costlier adoptions happen. So I said all of that and told that person they should thoroughly research adoption if they were truly interested.
Did I respond the best way I could have? No, probably not. But all of this got me to thinking about my journey to adoption. It was hard. All of the paperwork and waiting and sacrificing so we could make it work financially. (We were middle-income folks who managed three international adoptions.)
But you know the very hardest part for some people, I think? When we struggle with infertility, we struggle with pride. I, for one, like to accomplish things. I like to say, "I did this! Look at how smart/tough/capable I am." (I don't actually say those things, but you know what I mean.) So when you can't have babies, you have to let all that go. You aren't going to see a little baby that has your eyes and your husband's smile. You aren't going to say, "Look at what we made." But maybe that's exactly what some of us need: to have to learn to say, "Look at what God did! Look at my beautiful children! They are exactly who He wanted them to be and I had nothing to do with it!"
Maybe you won't even adopt the way you hope to adopt. Maybe it won't be infant adoption. Maybe it won't be international. Maybe it will be older children. Maybe this scares you. Maybe it's not what you dream of. (Who doesn't want to snuggle with their little baby?) But maybe God needs you for some older children without a family. Check it out. You need love. They need love. That is family.
Along the way you will learn you did have a lot to do with it. And you will see them start to resemble you in ways you could not dream. But mostly you will learn that God needed you, just as you are, to parent these children. And all the struggle was worth it. No, not just worth it -- it was necessary. (Maybe one day you will even thank God for your infertility because without it, you may never have met these children that He entrusted to you.) God is working on perfecting you through this process. Step out of your comfort zone. We can get too comfortable with our struggles. We can get so stuck! It's so hard to try something new -- something with no guarantees. But we can't grow if we don't take those super-scary steps towards that new thing. It's about letting go. It's about becoming the best you. It's about accepting God's gifts long before you understand them.
Nope, it's not easy. But it is beautiful.
A million thoughts went through my head. The first was, "You should stay out of this conversation. You are going to tick someone off." But I rarely listen to that voice. The next flurry of thoughts included, "Really? How many people really use a surrogate?", as well as the thought I posted, which said, "Well, those women could adopt one of the million children on this planet without a family." I did it. I ticked someone off. Immediately. I was told my comment was cold-hearted and I don't understand how hard and how expensive it is to adopt.
Au contraire, mes amies, I do understand. I have three children through the miracle of adoption. Is adoption easy? No. Is it supposed to be? But it is also not expensive. Or it doesn't have to be. Often adopting children out of foster care has little or no cost. And there are many, many ways to make costlier adoptions happen. So I said all of that and told that person they should thoroughly research adoption if they were truly interested.
Did I respond the best way I could have? No, probably not. But all of this got me to thinking about my journey to adoption. It was hard. All of the paperwork and waiting and sacrificing so we could make it work financially. (We were middle-income folks who managed three international adoptions.)
But you know the very hardest part for some people, I think? When we struggle with infertility, we struggle with pride. I, for one, like to accomplish things. I like to say, "I did this! Look at how smart/tough/capable I am." (I don't actually say those things, but you know what I mean.) So when you can't have babies, you have to let all that go. You aren't going to see a little baby that has your eyes and your husband's smile. You aren't going to say, "Look at what we made." But maybe that's exactly what some of us need: to have to learn to say, "Look at what God did! Look at my beautiful children! They are exactly who He wanted them to be and I had nothing to do with it!"
Maybe you won't even adopt the way you hope to adopt. Maybe it won't be infant adoption. Maybe it won't be international. Maybe it will be older children. Maybe this scares you. Maybe it's not what you dream of. (Who doesn't want to snuggle with their little baby?) But maybe God needs you for some older children without a family. Check it out. You need love. They need love. That is family.
Along the way you will learn you did have a lot to do with it. And you will see them start to resemble you in ways you could not dream. But mostly you will learn that God needed you, just as you are, to parent these children. And all the struggle was worth it. No, not just worth it -- it was necessary. (Maybe one day you will even thank God for your infertility because without it, you may never have met these children that He entrusted to you.) God is working on perfecting you through this process. Step out of your comfort zone. We can get too comfortable with our struggles. We can get so stuck! It's so hard to try something new -- something with no guarantees. But we can't grow if we don't take those super-scary steps towards that new thing. It's about letting go. It's about becoming the best you. It's about accepting God's gifts long before you understand them.
Nope, it's not easy. But it is beautiful.
Friday, August 2, 2013
I guess there's no where to start other than the present, right?
George and I had this amazing conversation yesterday (well, about three different amazing conversations threaded together, really), and part of it was this:
I have been reading The Four Signs of a Dynamic Catholic by Matthew Kelly and I got to wondering if a person who isn't a "dynamic Catholic" is really even Catholic. I mean, doesn't Catholic mean whole? Universal? Well, if you aren't living it (or trying your level-best), are you really Catholic? (Can any of us say we are really Catholic? Really whole? Or is the best we can do is to say that we are working at being Catholic?)
But that got me to thinking about a big dividing point between Catholics and Evangelicals. We seem to have this big thorn between us that always gets thrown around about faith vs. works. "They" (the Evangelicals, and yes, I'm generalizing for the sake of this conversation, but I spent 20 years in evangelical/protestant churches, so I have lived both sides of this thorn) say we expect to be saved by works. They expect to be saved by faith and the works are an outpouring of love in response to Jesus' gift. We Catholics say we have both and believe in both to save and sanctify us. (Let me take a big aside here to explain that saved and sanctified are two very different things and that I (and the Catholic Church) believe we need to be both saved and sanctified to reach Heaven... actually this is a great subject for another post, so I'll save it. Be on the lookout!) Anyhow, we say we rely equally on faith and works (because "faith without works is dead", right St. James?). But do we really? How many of us Catholics are "dynamic" -- living our faith through prayer, study, generosity, and evangelization? As much as (in general) Evangelicals rely on faith alone, we Catholics rely on works alone. "Well, I'm a good Catholic, I go to Mass every Sunday. I have my whole life." Well, is that really the totality of the work God wants you to do? Mass is wonderful and you should go, but you should participate in it, not just observe it. Let Jesus' body and blood transform you so you can transform the world.
As my dear husband said, this isn't an "either/or" endeavor. It isn't faith or works that save and sanctify us, it's faith and works that make us whole and holy. It is this holistic living out of our faith that will prepare us to meet God in Heaven. It is this kind of faith that will make us fully the person He desires us (and designed us) to be.
George and I had this amazing conversation yesterday (well, about three different amazing conversations threaded together, really), and part of it was this:
I have been reading The Four Signs of a Dynamic Catholic by Matthew Kelly and I got to wondering if a person who isn't a "dynamic Catholic" is really even Catholic. I mean, doesn't Catholic mean whole? Universal? Well, if you aren't living it (or trying your level-best), are you really Catholic? (Can any of us say we are really Catholic? Really whole? Or is the best we can do is to say that we are working at being Catholic?)
But that got me to thinking about a big dividing point between Catholics and Evangelicals. We seem to have this big thorn between us that always gets thrown around about faith vs. works. "They" (the Evangelicals, and yes, I'm generalizing for the sake of this conversation, but I spent 20 years in evangelical/protestant churches, so I have lived both sides of this thorn) say we expect to be saved by works. They expect to be saved by faith and the works are an outpouring of love in response to Jesus' gift. We Catholics say we have both and believe in both to save and sanctify us. (Let me take a big aside here to explain that saved and sanctified are two very different things and that I (and the Catholic Church) believe we need to be both saved and sanctified to reach Heaven... actually this is a great subject for another post, so I'll save it. Be on the lookout!) Anyhow, we say we rely equally on faith and works (because "faith without works is dead", right St. James?). But do we really? How many of us Catholics are "dynamic" -- living our faith through prayer, study, generosity, and evangelization? As much as (in general) Evangelicals rely on faith alone, we Catholics rely on works alone. "Well, I'm a good Catholic, I go to Mass every Sunday. I have my whole life." Well, is that really the totality of the work God wants you to do? Mass is wonderful and you should go, but you should participate in it, not just observe it. Let Jesus' body and blood transform you so you can transform the world.
As my dear husband said, this isn't an "either/or" endeavor. It isn't faith or works that save and sanctify us, it's faith and works that make us whole and holy. It is this holistic living out of our faith that will prepare us to meet God in Heaven. It is this kind of faith that will make us fully the person He desires us (and designed us) to be.
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