Starting off with a bang

I got a call today from the dean of students at the Catholic school. Apparently M did a few little things that didn't set too well with a substitute teacher. By the standard of the school he had been at, they were nothing. But he's not in Kansas anymore, and would have been wise to learn the lay of the land before being totally himself. For example: they were doing the introduction game where you tell one thing about yourself, and everyone tries to match up the comments with the person who wrote them. He writes "I am interested in both men and women". You have to know him to know that this is actually a funny statement....he's completely straight! But this is, after all, Catholic school, and such a comment is apparently very un-funny there. Sigh. I guess the only way to learn is to make mistakes. But I wasn't expecting a call from the discipline police quite so soon. The good news, at least, is that it wasn't G; usually if there's going to be a call from the principal it is usually G. So he's off the hook.

Catholic school impressions from a Presbyterian kid

Yesterday was our first day of Catholic school. What a hoot. I just love my #2 ds...he can always say the funniest things.

He gets in the car:
Mom: How was it??!!
M: Pretty cool actually. There are 15 cool kids in my class. Which is 14 more than I expected. (Editorial note: Yes, the one was himself, and yes, he said it with a twinkle in his eye.) Out of 57 freshmen. It was great. I sat down at lunch and two girls and one guy came and sat at my table, and before long everybody was sort of hanging around. We played games most of the day, and one was a photo scavenger hunt. We had to get a picture of a freshman putting on deoderant, so since I have some good pit hair going, I volunteered. (Editorial note: Just the night before, he had taken the discarded brown ends of the corn silk, and sat down at dinner with no shirt, but with the corn silks bushing out of his armpits. We laughed hysterically.)

Then at dinner last night:
M: During chapel they said this prayer to St. Joseph. Did you know they were talking about JOSEPH, like as in, Jesus' father?
Mom: Yes, I was aware of that.
M: They all seemed to know this prayer and I just mumbled something.
Mom: I doubt anyone cared.
M: Then they said some kind of a 'pledge of allegiance' to Mary. I guess since they just prayed to Joseph they didn't want her left out.
Mom: Pledge of allegiance to Mary??
M: Yeah, kinda weird, huh?
Mom: (with sudden insight) It didn't start out with "Hail, Mary" did it?
M: (wide eyed) YEAH! I thought "What the heck? Why are they talking football?", but then I realized it was some pledge of allegiance thing.
DS#1: You mean Hail Mary isn't talking about football?
Parents are cracking up.
Welcome to Catholic school.

---Beth

Spiritual Retreat

I decided to post on my July spiritual retreat here on my blog. The post below was written in late July. My REAL life today is posted below it. I think I will add a few retreat observations here, over time.

The thought of posting everything about my retreat is overwhelming...and I don't know I'd be able to communicate it effectively anyway. But in order to take a stab at it, I'll just start with the experience of taking a retreat; and then, as I process it more and more, I'll add some of the content of what I gained from it.

I went on an 8 day directed retreat. What that means it that you are assigned a spiritual director who advises you, listens to you, offers ideas for you to meditate upon, suggests scripture that might be meaningful, offers support for the journey. Many people (at least in Catholic practice, perhaps in other faith groups) utilize a spiritual director or confessor as a necessary component of their walk of faith. I think that since seeing the benefit for myself, I'll probably ask my priest about a local director. I have a feeling it is a bit like choosing a counselor, though.... some are a better fit than others.

My director was a grandfatherly Jesuit priest, whose theological leanings (if I had to put them on a continuum) were likely more liberal than my own. However, I'm so glad that I didn't let this color my opinions....I gained so much from him! He offered me points of view I really hadn't considered; he supported my observations; he kept me focused on the goal of it all; he made helpful suggestions.

I checked into the retreat facility on Sunday afternoon. We had a dinner together, then after the initial dinner, we didn't talk again until lunch 8 days later. Every day followed a predictable schedule:
8 - breakfast
9 - session with my spiritual director
12- lunch
5:15 - mass
6 - dinner

If I didn't want to go to any of these, that was fine...nothing was expected of me. But it gave my day a bit of structure. Beyond those events, how I spent my time was up to me entirely.

The food was homecooked and very good. The retreat facility was 'comfortably spartan'. Everything was clean and comfortable, but not more than I needed. In my room (my 'cell', as my friends and family joked) was a double bed, a desk and chair, a Bible, a crucifix, a luggage stand, a comfy chair, and 8 coat hangers. Thankfully I brought my cell phone, so I had an alarm clock...otherwise, I might have missed a meal!

The retreat house had our rooms, a chapel, a conference room, a very small library/book store, a dining room, and offices for the spiritual directors and staff. The grounds were lovely ... 20 acres of woods bordering the river. There was a picturesque waterfall in the stream, walking trails, and benches and 'personal decks' scattered around the property. There was also an outdoor meditation chapel on the top of the hill. And this in Atlanta...just stuck between residential homes. You'd have thought you were in the middle of nowhere.

I kept a journal each day of what I was learning, my questions, my observations on the experience. I described myself in there as "arriving at the beginning of a rainstorm, with few concrete expectations, and a handful of fears." My first morning I noted: "I awake this morning after a great night's sleep at 7:05. Immediately, thoughts push into my mind. I'm amazed at how -- in a place with no demands, no noise, no real schedule -- I can be so assaulted with planning my day, wondering what will be next, second guessing myself, ...conscious thought."

At the outset, they gave us some information about the value of silence. I quote: "Silence creates the climate of interior stillness in which God's voice can be heard. Abstaining from dialog with others unleashes the easy, spontaneous communication with God, which is prayer. Silence enables us to make contact with our innermost self and thus satisfy our anxious quest for self-identity, inner freedom, and self-determination. Silence enables us to marintain the balance between the outward and inward forces in our lives between action and prayer. Too much community depersonalizes; too much solitude leads to sterile loneliness. The therapeutic value of silence reveals itself in a deep and peaceful tranquility. Silence and speech are correlatives; they complement each other. Without periods of silence we can only babble."

I observed on that first day that I was being confronted with all my words that pile up, even in silence, as I think and write ... and I realize I'm not listening yet. It took awhile to get used to eating with people and not speaking to them....felt a bit like we were all characters out of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" or something...silently shuffling around each other! By the end of the week, I was seeing so much value in the silence! One particular benefit that stood out to me was this: I could figure out myself without reference to the people around me; I didn't have to feel compelled to make small talk, to feign interest in the journey of another if it wasn't genuine. I observed toward the end of my week "One reason retreat is so nice is because there are no images -- no friend's faces, no celebrity magazines, no people in the news -- against which I can measure myself. The people here are strangers on a similar journey, about whom I know nothing, and silence forbids me getting to know. It has been refreshing to begin to learn who I am, NOT in regard to those around me, or what I do (for we all here DO nothing!)."

For more info about the retreat center I went to:
www.ignatiushouse.com

The picture is a painting I did earlier this year of Montserrat in Spain. St. Ignatius Loyola (the Jesuits' patron) gave up his former way of life after spending a night on Montserrat. I thought it was a providential symbol of God in my life. I have a chunk of rock from Montserrat, atop a chunk of rock from Ignatius House, on my desk now.

Can't decide if life sucks, or if I should be thankful.

My dd declared yesterday as one to go down in the annals of sucky days. Of course, she had just undergone her first vaginal exam, so what could we expect?

But on the whole the day did have its sucky elements, I have to agree.

First on the list was starting my day dumpster diving. We decided a week ago that we are moving. We are, one month from now, packing 6 people and 2 pets and the detritus of 11 years in one house, driving it a total of, oh, a half mile, and redepositing said persons and belongings into a smaller house that costs more. There is some sense in this move, despite the fact that when it's written out like that, I cannot imagine what that sense is. However, that is an aside. Back to the dumpster. Boxes. Must have boxes. Dumpsters labelled "Cardboard Only" are a mother-lode of boxes. I learned that one should not wear a cute sequined skirt and flip flops when d.diving; that people look at you funny when they come out of Barnes and Noble with their lattes in hand when you are hanging out of a dumpster; and that it really is easier once you actually get completely inside the dumpster to retrieve items. Silver lining: we now have plenty to get started.

Then dd goes to meet new female doctor. Dd is in a rotten mood. I have to take dd, because her car is in the shop. Silver lining: aforementioned exam does not uncover anything worrysome.

Then I pick up ds (17) at high school registration. He spent last night with a friend, assuring me that the friend would drop him at the school. He is dependent again on us for transportation since three weeks ago, he and three friends totalled his Explorer. They were returning from a weekend at the beach, driving at 7 am back from Charleston up the interstate. Ds had gotten sleepy, and his friend volunteered to drive so ds could take a nap. The friend fell asleep. The Explorer swerved into the grass and the friend overcompensated (waking to find himself heading toward the concrete base of a road sign), rolling the car onto its roof and skidding, 4 wheels in the air, to within three feet of the sign. Miraculously, all three boys were wearing their seat belts. Miraculously, they kicked out the back window and got out of the car. Miraculously, there was not even a scratched knee or a bumped head. The worst injuries were fire ants bites, from all the dirt that was deposited to the inside of the car. But that is an aside. Back to school registration. The friend could not bring ds to the school, so I learned that ds rode the friend's gas-powered scooter 10+ miles to school that morning, sans helmet. Silver lining: ds and friends are still alive to register for school. Ds is resourceful. Ds survived the scooter ride.

Off to dh's office, to pick up my 'paycheck' for the week. His secretary is out sick for the second day, and he's in a meeting. He's left the check at the front desk for me. I look like #$%$ from aforementioned dumpster diving (95 degrees, 90% humidity), but pick up the check and take it to the bank on the first floor of his office building. The teller kindly informs me that there are insufficient funds to cash the check. I call dh's cell. He's in the meeting so doesn't answer. I need to shop for dd's back to school needs, as she's heading to college in two days, not to mention things like groceries, gasoline (which costs about as much as groceries now), etc. I drive back home from downtown. Silver lining: dh and I are in a better place, so I don't immediately assume really nasty thoughts about him. He calls back, and had written my check out of the wrong account (one reason I normally get it from secretary). Still, I have no money in my wallet and I've lost my ATM. Silver lining: Even Chick Fil A takes a credit card.

We have now worked our way up to the afternoon. Ds (17) takes my car to pick up his own paycheck, and to go to his own doctor appointment. I lie down on bed with phone book, and call mobile providers to compare plans, since dd is moving away and we need to make adjustments. I call internet providers, dish TV providers, land line provider, duly writing down all the features and costs of all the options, so that I can intelligently discuss the topic with dh tonight. I notice as I'm speaking to James from the cable company that my cell phone beeps in call waiting; I ignore; my home phone rings; ignore; my cell again beeps in; I feel that I should wind it up with James. As I'm thanking him for his help the home phone again rings. I answer only to hear, "Mom, I'm really sorry." Not good. Ds has wrecked MY car. Silver lining: DS is fine. I now know that my insurance policy will provide me with a rental car (since I JUST TURNED IN the rental car YESTERDAY from previous accident).

DS misses his doctor appointment. DH goes (in the only remaining car we have, a two-seater) to pick DS up on side of road. I call my father, since I am now stranded without a car and ds (13) needs to be picked up from the church, where he's returning at 3 from an overnight trip. His soccer practice is at 4, assuming he made the team (which I haven't had time to check the final cuts, but odds were good). I get to the church at 3:05, only to learn that ds rode home in another car with Trey, a high schooler whom ds did not have permission to ride with. At 3:15 we phone Trey's cell phone and learn that Trey decided to stop and GET A HAIRCUT on the way home. I calmly, but with a slightly bitchy edge, tell ds that he picked a really bad day to make a stupid decision, and to please GET HIS BUTT in some vehicle and get to the church. I take my longsuffering father home and return to the church. Silver lining: ds makes it back despite being driven by a 16 year old male driver.

DS and I dash off to soccer practice. He didn't make the team.

Tired of looking for silver linings. Silver lining: People learn more from failure than from success. DS takes it like a man. Coach calls ds to explain her decision to cut him, and seems to truly care. (Doesn't make it a good decision though! GRRR.)

Run home, get ds (12) and take him to Tae Kwon Do. He doesn't get a tip, and is worried that he will not be able to test for his green belt next week. Silver lining: he's finally in TKD found something he's interested in doing.

In the 45 minutes he's there I go home and fix dinner. Cannot eat dinner with rest of family because I have to pick DS from TKD. Silver lining: Dinner is still good cold. I have a car, albeit my dad's, to pick up child.

Dinner conversation about Fight Club, trying to uncover the meaning of it all. Is it saying that we are all capable of great evil? Is it merely the story of the descent of one man? Is it mental illness? (try having a discussion about split personalities and imaginary persons with a child who has a schizoid disorder...) Silver lining: Said child is blissfully unaware that such horrors could be part of her future. But I'm not.

After dinner, discuss cell phone options with dh. I've written all the pertinent info into carefully parallel columns, listed pros and cons, etc. Discussion goes pretty well, actually, until dh (innocently, teasingly) says, "I can't believe it is 11:00! This conversation should have taken five minutes! You should never ever consider a career as a financial analyst." Big teardrop. Followed by another. Silver lining: dh realizes he just said the wrong thing.

Pack it in. Tomorrow is another day.

Life changed

I see that it has been since May that I posted.
I feel like that was almost like another lifetime ago. Isn't that crazy?
Sometime between when we gave up on our marriage and decided to go on the planned cruise with our kids (but then we'd probably separate after that) and pulling back into Port Canaveral after 7 days at sea....somewhere in there, God brought healing.

Maybe it started when we went to Father Newman, and he told us there could be no fundamental change to our marriage, because we would always fundamentally be the same people. Maybe it started when we agreed to postpone arguments on the cruise for the sake of the children. (We DIDN'T postpone arguments, but we previously agreed to, and maybe that agreement was part of the healing). Maybe it was just admitting to God in prayer that I didn't have the stuff to stay in it anymore, that enough was enough. I really cannot say. But the cruise certainly marked a turning point.

We fought and fought, knowing that the alternative was an end to 'us'. That brings a focus to the fighting....it became a sense that we were fighting FOR us -- for the survival of our marriage-- rather than against each other. It was hard, so hard that I remember nights where we were too tired to physically lift our heads off the pillow to kiss and makeup at the end of it. The Kleenex ran out. Our voices became hoarse whispers. But we made it through to the next day having resolved some small piece of the problem. We slowly realized we weren't backing down, then that we weren't giving up, then that we might just make it. We recovered trust. We recovered respect for the other's perspective. We recovered affection, and desire. Hope was truly the thing with feathers; it would flit in and out. Some days I would have no hope; some days I thought perhaps I could at least imagine having hope. And at some point, I guess I realized that I must have had hope all along, because I was in a position of looking back, realizing that I had held on. I don't know how.

I wish I could patent the process and replicate it for the benefit of others. But I cannot. It is so particular and so precious. I can only stand on the other side and know what it took from myself and from dh to get here. There are still a few niggly issues that haven't been really covered yet. And there are circumstances that uncover the same old rush of feelings....but we are different. We are able to hang on to one another, draw strength from each other, and fight through the conflict (and the desires to flee, to lash out, to withdraw, to sweep under the carpet for the sake of 'peace'). I can now say I love my husband. I really love being married to him. And it's been years since I felt that deeply, in the way I do now. Funny thing is, if you know me IRL, you'd think we had a pretty good marriage....two people who laugh frequently, who seem compatible and well suited, who have been together for over 20 years. But now, there is an immediacy and an intimacy that's never been there before. It is a costly intimacy, because the suffering we've both undergone to have it has been real enough to taste.

I pray to God that he will restore to us the years that the locusts have eaten.