overdue updates

Once again, many weeks have elapsed since my last posting.  I do have an excuse this time, though!  I got a job! No one could have been more surprised than I was!  :)  Due to some crazy, unexpected events, I was asked to become the 3rd grade teacher at our small, Catholic school.  It has sure turned my life upside down and given me little extra time for things like blogging.   Heck, it's miraculous for me to even get the laundry done these days! :)  But I truly believe God wanted me to take this job to help our school during a crisis, and I love, love, love these 3rd graders and will strive to do my very best in teaching them and guiding them closer to Jesus!  Please pray for me!  But more importantly, pray for our school and all the families and teachers there--for God to guide, heal, and bless them.  It has been a difficult year at our school, but I continue to cling to the Scripture verse that says:

"All things work together for good for those who love the Lord."  

(Romans 8:28) 

Here are my sweet 3rd graders!

Other overdue updates:

Nathanael turned 9 in November!  What a fun, smart, and sweet kid he is!  And now that I'm his 3rd grade teacher, it is neat to see what he is like in that environment too.  He makes me a proud mother AND teacher, and I think he and I will both treasure this year in our hearts forever :)  Here are some pictures from his birthday party waaaayyyy back in November:

Opening presents with his best buddies!

He loves this Star Wars piano book and has already learned most of the songs!

He was super thrilled with this Yankees backpack and the Babe Ruth picture for his wall!

Nine candles on a Dairy Queen ice cream cake,

surrounded by friends and love and God's grace...

doesn't get much better than that!

Dearest Nathanael,

Your daddy and I sure do love you

and we are so grateful you are in our family!

May you keep growing closer to Christ each year,

may your Irish eyes always keep smiling,

and may you always know that you are loved--

more than all the baseball cards you ever collect...plus,

all the other baseball cards collected in the world combined!

Love,

Mom

        

May Musings

I like the month of May.  It contains Mother's Day, my birthday (today!), my anniversary, and is dedicated to Mary, the Mother of God.  This year, being in a new home, I feel especially blessed.  It's hard to explain, but being in a new home has felt like starting a whole new chapter in the book of my life.  A good chapter that makes me not want to put the book down, but rather, makes me want to keep on reading to see what wonderful thing might happen next.  Those who know me well, know that there have been some ugly chapters in my biography, chapters I would like to re-write or even rip out and burn in the fireplace...  But, I think if I would re-read them now, I might understand how they were a necessary part of the story, and they made the blessings to follow all the more beautiful.  As an English-major and a lover of the written-word, I like being in charge of penning my own script, but God has been gently showing me that my story would be much better written (perhaps even a best-seller) if I just relinquish the pen to Him.  A bishop once said of St. Therese, that:

"her life was like a blank sheet of paper, at the bottom of which she affixed her signature and then placed it in the hands of God, to let Him write thereon all that might please Him, accepting in advance--with joy--whatever He would write, not knowing what it might be and no matter the suffering involved, but convinced that it would be only for His glory and her own spiritual good."  

I am humbled and astonished by St. Therese's child-like trust.  I'm so controlling that the thought of letting God write my story is very frightening to me (after all, what if He writes a Shakespeare tragedy!?).  But as I reflect upon all that has happened in the past 37 years of my life, I see over and over again that God always provides, He always works things out for my good.  Yes, sometimes He writes some suffering into the plot-line, but somehow He even turns that into something good!  I need to focus on the Truth that God is always good to help me worry less and trust more.  Yesterday, I was blessed with the opportunity to go to Saturday morning Mass, followed by the sacrament of Confession with a Spirit-filled priest.  He spoke exactly what my soul was thirsting for and reminded me to be more like St. Therese.  He reminded me to trust in God's goodness and mercy and to not be afraid of anything--my sins, future suffering, disappointing those I love, not being the saint I want to be--but rather to simply believe in God's goodness.  He left me with this short verse to meditate on as my penance:

"Do not be afraid, only believe."  ~Mark 5:36

I hope I can embrace that as my motto for the 37th year of my life.  Like St. Therese, I will trust and believe that God has more wonderful adventures to write in the story of my life and that no matter what else happens, it will end "happily ever after."  So here I go, on my birthday...I sign my name to the last page and hand the pen over to Him.


Here are some photos of the fun and beautiful hike we took on Mother's Day:

Just for fun, I thought I'd throw in this photo of me when I was 2!

I can't believe I'll be the big 40 in just a few years!

Poem Explained

Perhaps it would be fruitful to explain the thoughts behind the last poem I posted, just to clarify that I do not regret getting married or having these beautiful boys the Lord has given my husband and me.  That is not the case at all.

However, I do go through periods of wondering who I am because, in reality, a mother gives all of herself to her vocation of wife and mother.  We sacrifice our wants (and sometimes even our needs) in order to nurture the souls placed in our care.  This sacrifice feels very natural to me and I know it is what I am called to do, but at times, I do feel like I've lost myself.  Sometimes I grieve a little bit over the talents I once thought I would use to do great things in this world, talents like oil painting, flute and guitar playing, Spanish speaking, picture taking, creative writing, and even sill things like ballet dancing.  I no longer have time for many of those talents, nor do I think I am meant to use any of them for any grandiose purpose anymore.

Perhaps God will allow me to use my talents and hobbies in small ways for His glory, and I'm learning to be OK with that.  Mother Teresa reminds me that I don't have to do great things, only small things with great love, and I can still do that as a mother.  I may have lost some of my talents, or the time to use them, but I have not lost the ability to love.  I can do that nearly every second of the day--I can love by changing a stinky diaper with a smile, by making a meal for a friend in need, by snuggling with a son whose heart is hurting...the list of little ways to love goes on forever.

It is true that some days I grieve over lost talents and dreams--like being a missionary in a 3rd world country, or being a great homeschooling mom, or leading the music ministry at church, or writing inspiring articles to convert even an atheist's soul, or painting masterpieces that would point people's hearts towards God... But lately God is teaching me to be content with being little.  In fact, I prayed the other day that I could become so little that I could fit into Jesus' side and hide within his glowing heart.  That dream I will hang onto to, for as long as I am found in His heart, I know I will not be lost.  And that's good enough for little me.

the lowest place

To be blatantly honest, I have been struggling this week, crying myself to sleep more than once.  And I think I've figured out the problem:  a combination of a lack of humility and a desire to be fulfilled by something other than God.  So as I've been pondering my lack of humility, I was reminded of a book I read many years ago, a book so simple, yet truly profound in its insights into the spiritual life. The book is called "Hinds Feet on High Places," by Hannah Hurnard. It is certainly on my top 5 books that I've ever read, and I highly recommend it, especially if you are going through "a desert" or "valley" and you're longing to reach the "high places" of joy and peace that the Lord wants you to have. The book is about a young girl named Much-Afraid who is crippled, but longs to be healed and to be able to scale the high mountains. The Shepherd takes her on a difficult journey to teach her to overcome her fears. Anyway, even though it's been 10 years or more since I've read the book, God brought to my memory a scene from the book that I believe He wanted me to meditate on to help me learn what humility looks like--that it is actually a joyful, beautiful thing. Allow me to share a portion of the book with you... Perhaps God will whisper something to your heart through these words too:

...they came to a place where a rushing stream poured itself across the path they were following and went cascading down the other side. It was running so swiftly and singing so loudly that it seemed to fill the valley around them with its laughing voice.

As the Shepherd lifted Much-Afraid across the slippery, wet stones she said to him, "I do wish I knew what it is that all the running water sings... It sounds so happy and so eager, as though it were repeating to itself over and over again some very lovely, secret message... Tell me, Shepherd, do you know what all the waters sing as they hurry on their way?"

The Shepherd smiled again, and they stood silently for a few moments by the little torrent, which seemed to shout even more loudly and exultantly as though it knew they had paused to listen. Suddenly, as Much-Afraid stood beside the Shepherd it seemed as though her ears and her understanding were open, and bit by bit, the water language became clear. It is, of course, impossible to write it in water-language, but this is the best I can do to translate it. Of course it is a very poor effort, for though a water song perhaps may be set to music, words are quite a different matter. But it went something like this:

Come, oh come! let us away--

Lower, lower every day,

Oh, what joy it is to race

Down to find the lowest place.

This is the dearest law we know--

It is happy to go low.

Sweetest urge and sweetest will,

Let us go down lower still.

Hear the summons night and day

Calling us to come away.

From the heights we leap and flow

To the valleys down below.

Always answering to the call,

To the lowest place of all.

Sweetest urge and sweetest pain,

To go low and rise again.

"That is very puzzling," said Much-Afraid, after she had listened for a little and found that this was the refrain, repeated over and over again, though with a thousand variations of little trills and murmurs and bubbles and splashing sighs. 'Let us go down lower still,' the water seems to be singing so gladly, because it is hurrying to go down to the lowest place, and yet you are calling me to the Highest Places. What does it mean?"

"The High Places," answered the Shepherd, "are the starting places for the journey down to the lowest place in the world. When you have hinds' feet and can go leaping on the mountains and skipping on the hills, you will be able, as I am, to run down from the heights in the gladdest self-giving and then go up to the mountains again."

Those words really convict my heart of my own selfishness...my desire to be put on a pedestal by my husband, my desire to be liked by everyone, my desire to do everything perfect, my desire to look good and together all the time, my desire for me-time, my desire for a nicer house, nicer kids, nicer marriage, nicer everything. All of those desires are completely self-centered instead of other-centered or Christ-centered. Instead of wanting to be on a pedestal that I don't deserve, I should want to be in the lowest places, serving others unnoticed for no glory other than pleasing the heart of Jesus. "Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like Yours!" How contrary the joyful "Water Song" is to the selfish messages this world screams in our ears. How I long to find the joy in being little, being low, being humble--in serving rather than being served. Will you please pray that I can learn this lesson of humility, that my life can be like a cascading stream that serves life-giving water and joy to those who cross my path?  As opposed to the selfish sponge that I've been lately...ugh...when will I ever learn!?

 "Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like Yours!"

Still searching...

My appointment this week was a disappointment.  The midwife that I went to see pretty much dismissed my concerns about my low progesterone, didn't even send me to the lab to check my progesterone levels, and simply thought I should take an anti-depressant.  It's not that I'm close-minded about the possibility of needing to take anti-depressants.  I truly feel like there is no shame in taking them.   It's just that my instincts tell me that my low progesterone is the root cause of my mood-swings, so why would I take a drug to hide my symptoms rather than finding a way to fix the source of the problem? 

So I left the appointment with more questions than answers. 

But thankfully, I have some wonderful friends who have been leading me towards some possible solutions.  My NFP instructor is referring me to an NFP physician from the Tri-cities area who truly understands the fragile ecosystem of a woman's hormones and might be able to help me get my progesterone levels back to normal.   Other friends have suggested some natural remedies like taking extra D and B vitamins, getting more exercise, and spending time with the Lover of my soul in front of the Blessed Sacrament.  My husband has been extremely helpful too and has offered to take care of baby Isaiah at night so that I can start getting some sleep and begin the weaning process which might help stabilize my hormones.   And many friends (and even strangers!) have reached out and shared their personal journeys through depression and hormone imbalances which has consoled my heart more than they will ever know and made me feel like I'm not alone.

So THANK YOU, all of you, who have been walking beside me on this road that I never thought I'd be on. Your outpouring of tips, words of encouragement, and prayers are helping me to have hope and giving me the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other as I continue to search and to find.

P.S.  If there are others out there who would like to share their wisdom or experiences with me but don't want to leave a public response in the "comment" box, you are welcome to email me at:  pmhurlbert@gmail.com

Searching for my Happy Place

Perhaps you've noticed that I often blog about "joy" and "thankfulness."  Well, to be honest, that's because those two things are often very hard for me to find, especially this past year.  Perhaps this may surprise some people.  I mean look at our family picture...I have 6 great reasons sitting beside me to make my heart filled with joy to overflowing!  But for some reason I just can't hang onto the joy for very long.  It's like trying to catch autumn leaves falling from the trees.  The leaves are beautiful, in every shade of joy you can imagine, but they just keep slipping through my grasping fingers.  If I was to be totally honest with myself and my readers, I would say that I am probably going through one of the following:

1)  depression
2)  a vitamin or hormone deficiency
3)  a dark night of the soul
4)  or perhaps all of the above

Aside from my tears and moodiness, another indicator that something is askew is that my cycles have been very abnormal since their post-partum return about 4 months ago.  For those of you who are NFP savvy, I would explain my cycles as having a crazy-short luteal phase (only 2 or 3 days long!), which my NFP instructor tells me could indicate that I am very low in progesterone.  This wouldn't be the first time I have been told that.  After my 3 miscarriages, I found out that I have extremely low progesterone and I have to take supplements to sustain my pregnancies.  So perhaps my body is low in progesterone all the time?  I finally decided it's time to find out.  I've been searching for my "happy place" for so long, in so many different ways, but, for the most part, by myself.  I've wanted to win this battle for joy by my faith alone, but perhaps like a good Catholic it requires faith AND works...(hee hee--poor theology humor--sorry).  Seriously, though, I think I can finally admit that I need some extra help.  So, I made an appointment to see my OBGyn on Monday to get some testing done and to see what wisdom she might impart.  I'm hopeful, but also apprehensive.  What if she tells me something I don't want to hear?  Am I humble enough to accept her advice and to take medication if need be?   Or perhaps there is nothing clinically wrong and God is just calling me to carry this cross for the good of my soul for a season?  If you could spare a prayer or two, please send some my way...that I can figure out what is causing these clouds in my sky (or for the grace to simply accept them).  I'm ready to see some sunshine again.

In the meantime, I'll just keep walking in faith through this difficult season, counting my blessings as I go, and continue to search for my happy place. 

Perhaps it's just around the bend, or perhaps it's been beside me, in front of me, within me, and all around me all along.

 

Taking Joy

There is a blog I read regularly that I both love and hate.  It's written by a famous homeschooling mother named Sally Clarkson, who has written stacks of books about homeschooling and the vocation of motherhood.  I love Sally, I really do, but sometimes reading about her life brings me down because she has set the bar so very, very high...and frankly I just feel too darn short. Although reading her blog sometimes makes me feel like a failure, most of the time it truly encourages me and inspires me to be the woman God wants me to be.  I'm slowly learning that I don't have to be Sally.  I don't need to be perfect or have perfect kids.  I just need a perfect Savior who is full of love and mercy when I fall short.

Sally's blog is called "I Take Joy", and I've always found that title to be both bold and intriguing.  I've often heard the phrase that we must "choose joy" because it is a feeling that doesn't always come naturally.  But the concept of "taking joy" seems to step it up a notch, and this week I really felt like adopting that phrase as my new motto.

Joy was not a natural feeling for me this week; in fact, I felt pretty much the opposite.  To quote my favorite protagonist, Bilbo Baggins, I felt "thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread." Nothing major happened to bring me down, just all the little things that add up...  Lack of sleep, my husband going on a work trip, the refrigerator breaking the day he left, my boys bickering, anxiety about getting pregnant again now that my cycle has already returned, annoyance at my son's football schedule and his drill-Sergent coach, little irritations with my spouse, countless insecurities with myself...the list could go on forever. 

Then it hit me...  Satan is stealing my joy and I need to take it back!  Satan is the father of lies and does such a successful job filling my mind with worries and doubts and irritations which steal the joy God wants me to have.  Quite frankly, I think Satan likes picking on me because I'm such an easy target.  He knows my weaknesses well; he knows it doesn't take much to send me into a tailspin of stress or despair. But deep down I know that no matter what my circumstances (even when given a cross big or small), I can still have joy, but I must be deliberate about it.  Satan is very deliberately trying to steal my joy and my salvation every second of the day, so I need to be just as deliberate about taking the joy back into my heart.  How do I do this?

Well, when my refrigerator breaks, I take joy by detaching myself from how inconvenient it might be or how much money it might cost, and I have fun eating out with the boys until the new fridge arrives.

When I'm feeling totally overwhelmed with 5 kids and 5,000 things I need to get done, I take joy by going for a rosary walk and placing it all in the Blessed Mother's hands.

When my husband says the wrong thing, I take joy by remembering all the reasons I fell in love with him 13 years ago and all the amazing things he does for our family now, and I choose to do something loving for him whether I feel like it or not.

When I'm bitter that I can't get things done or have some "me time", I take joy by playing Candyland for the 10th time, or by listening to my school boys tell me about their day, and I watch their little faces light up the room because I focused on them and not myself.

When my baby wakes me up 5 times a night, I take joy in holding his sweet little body in my arms, knowing that this snuggle-time will be gone all too soon, and being thankful for the extra prayer time that is almost impossible to find during the day.

The list could go on forever if I remember to take the joy in each moment, rather than allowing Satan to snatch it away.

Lessons From the Birds

On our front door there hangs a welcome wreath...  Apparently it looked very welcoming....

...because this is what I found hiding in it a few weeks ago.

 

Five sage-speckled eggs.  

 

 

They belonged to a gorgeous pair of house finches.  The proud papa was adorned with a sunset-red head.  He would sit in a nearby pine tree, singing to his mate while keeping diligent watch for danger.  The mama, clad in camouflage tones of grey and brown, would chat with him constantly from her warm nest, waiting for her babies to crack their way to freedom through those tiny little eggs.   I wondered how a bird could possibly emerge from those little shells.  I was so eager to see them hatch.  I lugged our little step ladder out to that wreath to check the nest daily.  We tried not to use the front door as much as possible, but occasionally we forgot that we had guests living there.  On one such occasion the mama bird found her way into our living room.  My outdoorsy husband, more accustomed to shooting animals than rescuing them, became "the Bird Whisperer" as he gently cupped the scared little mother in his gloved hands and set her free into the night air. I hoped and prayed that she was alright and would return to her nest to warm her eggs so that they would hatch. 

 

 A few days later I was delighted to behold this beautiful sight.  Perhaps "beautiful" is the wrong adjective.  They were more like "adorably ugly!"  Eyes glued shut.  Sparse, scraggly wisps of hair rather than anything that resembled feathers.  Too weak to even lift their heads...

 

It was so sweet to watch them grow stronger every day...

 



For the first week of their lives, I never heard them make a sound.  I guess I thought that baby birds would be noisy, constantly chirping at their parents to demand food.  But instead I found that these babies were silent, blind, and completely trusted that if they opened their mouths, they would be fed.  What an example of blind faith!  How I wish I had more of it!  Instead, I find myself loudly whining to God and wondering whether or not He hears or will answer me in the way I wish Him to.  Deep down I am a selfish brat and it humbles me to admit it.  This picture will always remind me to have more blind, bird-like faith...  To simply open my mouth and taste God's goodness that He so faithfully brings to me each day.

Each day that I climbed that little ladder to peek at these adorably ugly birds I was amazed at how quickly they were growing.  Their pale pink skin turned dark within a day or two.  Their wisps of hair rapidly turned into feathers.  Their blind eyes began to see...

 

 

This is the last picture I was able to take of these fuzzy, feathery friends of mine.  I thought that I had many more days or even weeks to spend with them, taking their photos and watching them grow.  But the next day they were gone.  At first I was worried that something terrible happened to them.  I wondered if a neighborhood cat had somehow raided the nest.  And then I looked at the pine tree next to our porch.  And there they were, flying from tree to tree along with their slightly larger parents, singing happily.  Within two weeks their blind faith had given them the strength to fly. 

 

These feathered friends were a gift from God and taught me so much.  I pray for the grace to have such blind faith and trust, for therein lies true joy and the strength to soar where God wills me to fly.

 

 

Consolation on the Feast of St. Joseph

This morning during my devotional time, I experienced great consolation from God when I happened upon this prayer from St. Teresa that spoke to my heart in ways that are hard for me to express.  I have been experiencing a spiritual dryness and darkness lately, and this prayer was like refreshing water to my parched spirit.  It confirmed in my heart that indeed God's love is enough, a truth that I often find difficult to embrace, as I shared in a previous post.  My soul if overflowing with gratefulness at this sweet gift from the Lord, and also for the graces I received this week during my spiritual direction session and the Sacrament of Confession.  After Confession with my kind spiritual director, my eyes filled with tears and I felt as if a light was turned on in my soul again when he gave me absolution through Jesus Christ.  I thank Jesus for His many consolations to me this week...I certainly didn't deserve them, but perhaps He knew I needed them.

So today, on this special Feast of St. Joseph, I ask for his powerful intercession, that he will pray for me, my family, and my friends to live the message of this beautiful prayer always.

Prayer of St. Teresa of Avila

 

Let nothing disturb you,

nothing distress you;

while all things fade away,

God is unchanging.

Be patient,

for with God in your heart

nothing is lacking.

God is enough.

Is God's Love Enough?

With blogging, sometimes I worry about sharing too much.  I hem and haw about posting things that would truly reveal who I am instead of who I want people to think I am (if that makes sense).  But, at the same time, the people I like the most and learn the most from are those who are "real," those who share their weaknesses and admit their struggles, because those people remind me that I am not alone, and this gives me courage to carry my cross along side them.  Well, today's post reveals the real me.  The me that cries a lot.  The me that is selfish.  The me that is needy for love.  The me who doesn't have a perfect marriage.  The me who cried myself to sleep the other night because I felt lonely and unloved.  My husband was away on a long work trip, and even if he was home, I knew I would still feel lonely, and that is what really made me cry.  As my pillow became wet with tears, I suddenly had the image of Jesus holding me come into my mind.  I don't know if He put the thought there or if it was my own active imagination, but it comforted me.  I felt like Jesus was embracing me and tenderly saying, "It's OK.  Rest your head upon My heart.  My love is enough."  And then I fell asleep.

Can God's love really be enough?  I think I know the answer, but the real me has not been living the answer.  I often look for love everywhere other than the Source.  Yes, the real me is a mess--both spiritually and emotionally--and I have been for quite some time.  Perhaps I am just going through some hormonal changes...perhaps I'm clinically depressed and need happy pills...perhaps marriage counceling would help...or perhaps I just need to trust that Jesus is enough to make me happy.  Something needed to change, which is why I started receiving Spiritual Direction from a very holy priest a couple of months ago.  I figured it was a good place to start.  People who know me always say how happy and "together" I seem all the time, and even how saintly.  How thankful I am that they can't see the messy and murky state of my soul!  Spiritual direction has helped me to truly examine myself and find the source of my messiness, rather than trying to blame it on someone else and having a grand old pity party that suffocates the joy my soul longs for.  So far, Spiritual Direction has led me to a a couple of epiphanies that are very humbling for me to admit, but perhaps admitting my weaknesses will help me find more clarity and healing, and perhaps help others carry their crosses too.

The first epiphany I had is that I have always excelled at everything I have done in my life---until I became a wife.  During my school years, I was good at every sport I tried, I was gifted in music and art, and academically I was always at the tippity-top of my class.  Even at the private university I attended, I maintained a 4.0, and I had high hopes of doing something amazing with my life.  For awhile I dreamed of being a nun and becoming a great saint, then my vision shifted to becoming a doctor of some kind, and then I received a very clear calling from the Lord after a pilgrimage to Medjugorje that I was to become a wife and mother.  Being an accomplished perfectionist and a hopeless romantic, I embraced this calling with zeal and began my pursuit of being the perfect wife to my husband Paul.  My expectations were so high, that it is no wonder that I began to feel like a failure soon after the honeymoon was over.  Marriage was the first endeavor that I failed at, and this was crushing to my Type A/4.0 spirit.  Why did I fail so miserably at marriage?  Well, the simple answer is that I am selfish.  Which leads me to my second epiphany...

The second epiphany I had is that I have always felt very loved my entire life---until I became a wife.  I know that sounds strange, and let me immediately clarify that I am not blaming this on my husband.  He is an amazing and holy man.  He loves me, I love him, and I would never want anyone to think anything but the very best of him.  The problem lies within myself.  Like I said earlier, my whole life I had always been good at everything I did, and I had also always been showered with love and affection from every direction.  My parents loved me (and perhaps even spoiled me since I was the only girl); my three older brothers teased me constantly which made me feel loved; my teachers praised me and made me feel exceptionally gifted; I was surrounded by loving, supportive friends; and I even had a boyfriend or two who pampered me with poetry and put me on a pedestal that I frankly didn't deserve to be on.  In short, I felt very loved my entire life, I liked feeling that way, and I expected to feel even more magically loved when I got married.  Well, it didn't quite turn out that way, and I am beginning to see God's merciful and loving hand in choosing my spouse.  Paul loves me, he serves me daily, and I know he would die for me if needed.  However, he doesn't love me the way I selfishly want to be loved.  He doesn't write me poems, doesn't romance me, doesn't put me on a pedestal (although I think he would like to put me in a tree stand during hunting season). :)  Over and over again this has broken my selfish heart.  It has made me bitter, sad, and frankly, not a very good wife.  For my selfish and immature heart, it was nearly impossible to love and serve my husband when I didn't feel loved by him.  Not exactly a recipe for a happily ever after marriage.

The good news is that over these 12 years of marriage, God has slowly been breaking that selfish heart of mine and replacing it with His perfect heart.  Heart transplants are painful and I have been a very poor patient, but I think I finally have the faith to trust my Physician.  During these past few months I have started to feel a change in my heart taking place.  I've shed a lot of tears.  I've caught a glimpse of my miserable sinfulness.   I've felt the grace of mercy.  I've argued with God and tried to trade my cross in for a different one.  I've had a pity party or two.  But spiritual direction has helped reveal the real me to myself so that I can focus on changing ME instead of wishing others would change or my circumstances would change.  Spiritual Direction is also teaching me to listen to God's voice by taking time to be quiet every day.  In the silence I have heard God whispering to my heart that I don't need to be a perfect wife, only a loving and humble wife.  And even when I don't feel loved by my spouse, His perfect love will be enough---if I let it and stop looking elsewhere.

Names

So now that we know God has given us a son, we start the struggle of choosing the "perfect" name, as if there truly is such a thing, but as parents we put so much weight in that decision for some reason.  Normally, Paul and I have chosen names for our children that are our favorite saints or Bible heroes.  I love the names we have chosen thus far---except for one factor that I didn't take into account:  how the names could be shortened into "cool" nicknames as they grew up.  I guess I just assumed my boys would love their full names like I do, that they would insist that their friends use their full, birth-given, Christian names.  But no.  No.  I have learned that once again my idealistic wishes don't always come true.  My sweet and handsome Joseph has become "Joe."  Joe!  It's hard for me to even type that name!  And my beautiful brown-eyed and feisty son Michael goes by the name of "Mike" everywhere except home.  Well, actually, even Joseph calls him "Mike" at home, and at times I wonder who he is talking about....we don't have any "Mikes" in this house.  "Mike" is my oldest brother in South Dakota, not my son in Montana.  And then there's fun-loving Dominic.  How could I have ever guessed he would become "Dom"???  "Nic" would have been bad enough, but no, he has adopted the nickname "Dom," and I'm embarrassed to say that I even catch myself calling him that.  It just happened and it stuck.  And last, but not least, our adorable Nathanael.  Such a beautiful sounding name, but all of us started calling him "Natey" as soon as he was brought home from the hospital.

I know nicknames are cute and it's something that just happens.  But it really does make me sad deep down that their saint names have disappeared from our tongues.  So...with baby #5, I am bound and determined to pick a holy saint or Bible name that CAN....NOT....BE.....SHORTENED.  Period.  I know you probably think I'm crazy, but for some crazy reason this is important to me, and I need YOUR help.  There just are not very many good-sounding, strong saint names that can't be shortened.  Here's the list I have come up with so far, but please help me add to this list if you can think of more.  So far, none of the names have captured my heart or my husband's, so we need brainstorming help before this little guy is born (which I'm paranoid might be soon because I'm already having tons of Braxton Hicks contractions!  Yikes!)

So here's our list, but please send more "unshortenable" names in the comment box below if you can think of any:

Justin, Caleb, Isaiah, Luke, Levi, John

Milestones...

Today is my 16 week milestone, which seems monumental to me for a few reasons:

1. I've made it past the date of my furthest-along miscarriage
2. I'm finally feeling better which naturally makes me happier about being pregnant (and happier, in general, which my family is very thankful for!)
3. I'm starting to feel the baby fluttering around inside which is helping me to finally bond with this sweet little miracle
4. At my appointment last week the nurse scheduled the "big" ultrasound, and I'm thrilled to have that date on my calendar and start counting down the days until we find out what we are having(Dec. 11th in case you're curious).  I think we will take the older boys out of school so that they can come to the ultrasound, meet their new little brother or sister on the screen, and then go out for pink or blue ice cream afterwards to celebrate the gender :) 

 

Here's me getting bigger by the moment it feels like...

 

See, doesn't my belly look even bigger 2 seconds after the first shot was taken?

 

And here's our little man in his big boy underwear!  When Paul was taking my picture, Nathanael wanted to get in the picture too.  Apparently, he is pretty proud of his big milestone:  he stayed dry all day in his big boy underpants---hurray!

I did it...

Well, I did it... 

Here's the new me:

 

 

So far I like the change.  We'll see if I still like it once I shower and have to figure out how to style it myself :}  My kids and my husband are still looking at me funny, but hopefully they will get used to the new look soon.  I wish it were this easy to change things in my soul that need a make-over!

 

Have a blessed weekend!

12 weeks prego and your vote please

 

So now that there is finally a baby-bump to show, I asked my husband to take a picture :)  I am so happy to be safely through the 1st trimester, even though I know I still have a long way to go.  I will be even more relieved once I'm past 15 weeks (which is how far along I was when I miscarried our baby Sebastian).  I am also eager to get past the nausea-phase, which is usually over around 14-16 weeks.  However, my nausea started a week or two earlier this time around, so I'm hoping that means it will also end earlier (which is probably wishful thinking on my part, but a girl can dream can't she?!)

 

People keep asking me if I feel the same this pregnancy as I did with my previous ones with the boys.  I would have to say "yes" for the most part, which leads me to believe we will be blessed with another boy.  My nausea is about the same intensity:  24 hours a day flu-like feeling but rarely throwing up.  The only difference is that is started at around 5 weeks this time (with my other pregnancies it started at 7 weeks).  And the only other difference that I've noticed is that I'm more emotional this time.  The first two weeks of this pregnancy I was in tears around the clock.  Even songs on the Christian radio station would make me cry.  My emotions have balanced out a little bit over the last few weeks, which my family is very grateful for!  :)  I'm guessing much of the tears had to do with pregnancy hormones and feeling like throwing up 24/7, but some of it was probably due to the fact that this pregnancy was a bit more of a surprise than my others.  Surprise?  I know, I know...being a veteran NFP user, you would think there would be no surprises in the baby making department, but that's simply not the case.  I'll try to explain. There is a big difference between using fertile days to try to conceive and using days on the edge of your fertile window as a way to remain open to life.  My husband and I try whole-heartedly to follow the Church's teachings regarding NFP, which means we try to remain open to the gift of life and to not use NFP as a means of contraception unless there is a very serious reason for avoiding pregnancy.  There have been times when we've had serious reasons to postpone a pregnancy, but we were not in one of those seasons recently, so we were using days in my cycle that were a little bit fertile in order to be open to God's will for our family size.  For months we didn't get pregnant, so I was slightly surprised when I missed my period in August.  Totally suprised?   No, certainly not. NFP didn't fail. We knew it was a possibility to be pregnant. And therein lies the beauty and the challenge of NFP: it leaves God in control. And since we have a God who loves us and is trustworthy, why not let Him send surprises?  The surprise factor, however, mentally made it a bit harder for me to become elated right away.  Of course I was happy, just like I was with our other pregnancies, but because we were not actively trying to conceive, it took more time to let go of the anxieties that come with having another child.  When you're trying to get pregnant, you have mentally already tackled most of those anxieties before you conceive.  With all our other pregnancies, we were actively trying to conceive, so it was easier to be excited right away.  I'm not sure if that makes sense to anyone but me, but that's part of the reason that I think I've been so emotional this pregnancy.  Surprises from God just take a little bit longer to process, even though they are just as wonderful because God only gives what is good, right?!  :)

 

OK, sorry if that above paragraph was way too much information!  You have to keep in mind that blogging is like therapy for me...it's how I work through things, and sometimes I inadvertantly take my readers along for the ride...sorry!   Hopefully you're learning along with me though! :}

 

So on a lighter note, last week I had my second ultrasound, and what a joy it was to see that bouncing baby in my womb!  At my first ultrasound I was only at 6 weeks, so all I could really see was a beautiful heartbeat inside a tiny little stationary body.  My 12 week ultrasound was totally different...there were little arms and legs and I'm pretty sure I saw a trampoline in there that the baby was bouncing on! :)   It made all that nausea so worth it!  I couldn't believe how active the baby was...it was like he or she just drank a Mr. Dew.  Hopefully that was not a premonition of how hyperactive this little one will be outside of the womb! :} Anyway, it was a beautiful sight and it really helped me to embrace this pregnancy, this new little person, with all of my heart.  Yes, God is very good indeed.

 

And now on a totally unrelated topic...  I was wondering if you would mind helping me make a decision???  This pregnancy is making my face break out (especially on my forehead), so I am tempted to get bangs...lots of bangs (see photo below).  I've done side-swept bangs before and immediately vowed to never to do that again.  But this time I'm thinking of full bangs to hide my pregnancy acne.  My big concern is that it would make me look younger, which I want to avoid since I still get carded for alcohol at age 33.  Plus, my husband is predominantly grey, so I really don't want to look like I'm his daughter.  That would be very bad.  So I'd love to get some second opinions on what I should do.  Would you please cast your vote for "bangs" or "no bangs" in the comment box to help me decide?  Thank you :)

 

 

 

it's been awhile...

Wow, I feel like it's been ages since I last posted something on my blog.  Partly that is due to the beginning-of-the-school-year-craziness, and partly because this pregnancy has made me so nauseous and emotional that I don't really know how to express my thoughts very well right now.  Feeling like you have the flu 24/7 kinda squelches one's creativity and talkativeness...  :} 

I also feel like I am dragging around a very heavy cross right now that I have not learned how to shoulder courageously or joyfully yet, and it's hard for me to talk about it...because I would just sound whiny and insecure and selfish (which I know I am but I don't want you to know that).  Plus, complaining about one's cross is probably a sin, so I think it's best if I remain silent on the issue and simply ask you to pray that I learn to find joy and healing as I learn to unite my tiny suffering with the Lord's incomprehensible passion.  And just for the record, this precious little baby growing inside me is not my cross...he or she is a joy and a blessing to me!  I suppose it might be true that all the pregnancy hormones racing through my body have caused this old cross of mine to feel more sliver-ish and heavy, but I know this gift of life is not the source of my struggle.  The spiritual warfare that I am experiencing has been a battle I've been fighting for many years and just can't seem to win (perhaps I need to quit trying so hard and simply surrender it to Jesus).  Anyway, I very much appreciate your prayers. 

 

 

Speaking of struggles and spiritual warfare, as I continue to read the amazing diary of St. Faustina, I realize just how small my struggles are relative to hers, and I also find tips in how to fight them like she so bravely did day after day.  Allow me to share some more excerpts from this book that have really spoken to me lately:

I united my sufferings with the suffering of Jesus and offered them for myself and for the conversion of souls who do not trust in the goodness of God.  Suddenly, my cell was filled with black figures full of anger and hatred for me.  One of them said, "Be damned, you and He who is within you, for you are beginning to torment us even in hell."  As soon as I said, "And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us," the figures vanished in a sudden whir. (entry 323)

Jesus made known to me how very pleasing to Him were prayers of atonement.  He said to me, "The prayer of a humble and loving soul disarms the anger of My Father and draws down an ocean of blessings."  After I spent time in adoration, half way to my room I was surrounded by a pack of huge black dogs who were jumping and howling and trying to tear me to pieces.  I realized that they were not dogs, but demons.  One of them spoke up in a rage saying, "Because you have snatched so many souls away from us this night, we will tear you to pieces."  I answered, "If that is the will of the most merciful God, tear me to pieces, for I have justly deserved it, because I am the most miserable of all sinners, and God is ever holy, just, and infinitely merciful."  To these words all the demons answered as one, "Let us flee, for she is not alone; the Almighty is with her!"  And they vanished like the dust, like the noise of the road, while I continued on my way to my room undisturbed, finishing my prayers and pondering the infinite and unfathomable mercy of God. (entry 320)

On Friday, when I as at Ostra Brama to attend the ceremony during which the newly finished Divine Mercy painting was displayed, I heard a sermon given by my confessor Father Sopocko.  This sermon about Divine Mercy was the first of the things that Jesus had asked for so very long ago.  When he began to speak about the great mercy of the Lord, the image came alive and the rays pierced the hearts of the people gathered there, but not all to the same degree.  Some received more, some less.  Great joy filled my soul to see the grace of God.  Then I heard the words, "You are a witness of My mercy.  You shall stand before My throne forever as a living witness to My mercy."  When the sermon was over, I did not wait for the end of the service, as I was in a hurry to get back home.  When I had taken a few steps, a great multitude of demons blocked my way.  They threatened me with terrible tortures, and voices could be heard:  "She has snatched away everything we have worked for over so many years!"  When I asked them, "Where have you come from in such great numbers?" the wicked forms answered, "Out of human hearts; stop tormenting us!"  Seeing their great hatred for me, I immediately asked my Guardian Angel for help, and at once the bright and radiant figure of my Guardian Angel appeared and said to me, "Do not fear; without the Lord's permission these spirits will do you no harm."  Immediately the evil spirits vanished and the faithful Guardian Angel accompanied me, in a visible manner, right to the very house.  His look was modest and peaceful, and a flame of fire sparkled from his forehead.  O Jesus, I would like to toil and wear myself out and suffer all my life for that one moment in which I saw Your glory, O Lord, and profit for souls." (entry 419)

And lastly, St. Faustina's wisdom on being silent (part of the reason why I feel called to be silent about my cross and simply bear it only with the help of Jesus):

"Silence is a sword in the spiritual struggle.  A talkative soul will never attain sanctity.  The sword of silence will cut off everything that would like to cling to the soul.  We are sensitive to words and quickly want to answer back, without taking any regard as to whether it is God's will that we should speak.  A silent soul is strong; no adversities will harm it if it perseveres in silence.  The silent soul is capable of attaining the closest union with God.  It lives almost always under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.  In the midst of all sufferings, both physical and spiritual, as well as in darkness and desolation, I will remain silent, like a dove, and not complain."  (entry 477 and 504)

When God clearly has too much confidence in you...

When God has more confidence in you than you have in yourself,

He sends you two pink lines instead of one

because double lines leads to double the trust in Him.

When God loves you more than you can comprehend,

He gives you a task you don't think you can handle

because He wants to show you that you can--with Him.

When God gives you a gift you can't unwrap right away,

you simply say "thank you, thank you, thank you"

as you pray and wait to hold that present from above.

P.S. Please pray for me my blogging friends, pray for a healthy baby and for peace for this overwhelmed heart of mine.  I feel like an emotional train-wreck this week (hormones, perhaps?)  Of course I am thrilled with this news, but I'm struggling with the fear of miscarrying again, and also the reality of having 5 children with no family close by.  "Jesus, I trust in You" is perpetually on my lips.  I am due on May 5th, although I typically have my babies a week or more early.  We are all thrilled, and the boys say they are hoping for another boy--which would not surprise me in the least.  I would love having another baby boy, but I sure wouldn't be opposed to buying some pink either!  :)  God's will be done.  Thank you in advance for your prayers!