How a thimble of water can fill up an ocean

Do you realize that no matter what I say or do in my life, very few seem to notice or care. But, at the same time, I feel more loved than I ever have in my life? So very full.

Answer that phenomenon.

It's called the mystery of God's love.

It's impossible to fill an ocean with a thimble of water but this is how it is for me. God is my thimble that fills me completely.

We all experience loneliness, sometimes depression. I wonder at times how I can survive it, especially when I am met with such indifference from others. But these are the times when I feel God holding me close and telling me that He loves me.

Isn't strange and wonderful at the same time, to feel so unloved yet loved completely? I thank God daily for His great love for me.

Little eyes and little ears

This morning, I woke up to the usual chaos. Fridays Dennis works and so it's just me trying to get kids off to school. I get woken up by Anna bringing my phone into my room, which is ringing loudly from the alarm.

Still trying to wake up, I get up and find Lucy moaning on the living room floor, clutching her stomach. I know without even asking that she has the flu. Henry had it earlier this week and Luke came down with it yesterday.

 I go downstairs to find Max watching cartoons instead of getting ready for school. I remind him rather testily that his bus comes very early, and he has twenty minutes to get dressed and eat breakfast. Why is he watching cartoons and why isn't he dressed???

I go back upstairs to make cereal, trying to figure out in my still foggy head how many kids will actually be eating. Anna and Max for sure, I tell myself.

Then Max comes upstairs complaining he can't find his College t-shirt. He needs it to go on a field trip today. If he shows up without it, he gets left behind to work on school work in the Star Room. (The "Star Room" is the "everything room", used as a study hall, a baby-sitting room and detention all in one.) So we look all over the bedroom, through the laundry and under beds for his t-shirt and my patience is running out.

"Why didn't you have this ready last night like I told you?" I asked him, annoyed.

"Because I was in trouble for being sassy and you sent me to my room!" he reminded me. That's right. Last night was a terrible night of more "behavior." Well, he could've been looking for his t-shirt while he was in his room.

I have him go eat his breakfast while I continue to look for his t-shirt. The longer I frantically search, the more stressed I become. The more stressed I become, the more I begin to sweat. My patience is totally gone now, and I'm shouting at Max to hurry up, look for his t-shirt.

We look all over the place, tearing up the house. Max's bus comes and goes. We search on. I call up Dennis upset, asking if he had seen the t-shirt anywhere. He said he had not.

Then I got upset with Dennis. I had two dr appointments for two of the kids that morning--Anna and Luke. Luke, for a med check (he needs a dosage increase) and Anna for strange re-appearing rash on her face. Dennis had made these appointments himself, back to back. I didn't mind at the time but that was before I realized that Lucy was going to be home sick, and now it looked like Max would have to stay home too since we couldn't find his t-shirt. Thanks to all of this, I had to bring five kids with me to the doctor's or else just cancel the appointments which I really didn't want to do because Anna really needed that rash checked and Luke really needed that dosage increase to help control his ADHD impulses.

There isn't much Dennis can do. Still upset and overwhelmed, I hang up.

We continue to search for the t-shirt and Max is getting increasingly upset. He had been looking forward to this field trip and even though I was annoyed with him, I didn't want him to miss it. And the more upset he gets, the more "autistic" he becomes.

I think to myself that I can't handle an autistic fit right now. I just went through that with him yesterday and was still recovering. Nothing is working out this morning.

Then for some reason, I realize I haven't seen the dog in a while. I go to look for him, because if he disappears, it's usually because he's hiding, chewing on something he shouldn't be chewing on.

I find him curled up on the vent in my room--a place he goes to when he feeling stressed. I know he's feeding off of my stress (he's a super sensitive dog) so immediately I feel bad. I coax him out of the corner and reassure him that everything is ok.

At that moment, Lucy comes out from hiding (also fearing my stress) and says out of the blue, "when I grow up I'm only going to have two kids. That way I know I can handle it."

I know she didn't mean anything by it, but her words worried me. I knew she looked to me as an example of what motherhood is and I had been a bad example. I wished I could take back my angry words, my frantic and exasperated attitude. All the things I had been mumbling under my breath about kids in general, she had heard. I feel terrible.

I told her, "Lucy, don't limit yourself according to my own limitations. The truth is, I don't handle stress well at all and that has nothing to do with you guys. God could have just given me one kid and I still would get stressed. I just have to work on that. But be open to God's plan and let Him give you the children He knows you can handle. You might be surprised at what you can do."

And at the end of my speech, the dog threw up. Right there beside me. Before I can even react, he goes to me to look for comfort and throws up again.

Really???

I look at Lucy and say, "You see? And that has nothing to do with kids at all. Chaos just happens and we got to trust God with it."

I brought the dog outside and asked the kids to come and pray with me. We pray to St.Anthony to find the college t-shirt so he can go on his field trip. We pray to God to ask everyone to feel better again. Then we pray three Hail Marys.

Dennis ended up coming home and finding the t-shirt in Max's drawer--the same drawer that I had looked in and Max had looked in. Dennis was not happy and he and Max got in a fight. The stress continued.

I intervened and explained to Dennis that it had been a tough morning. We apologize and thank him for coming out to help and I tell him he can go back to work. I will figure out how to get everyone to the drs somehow.

Dennis opts to stay home; he's not feeling well either. He will drive Max to school an stay home with the sick kids while I go to the drs with Anna and Luke.

It's been a tough morning but an enlightening one too. I am remembering that little eyes are watching me, learning from me how to handle stress. Taking it all in and coming to their own conclusions of what stresses me out and how it can be handled for the future.

You never know, perhaps all those women today who limit themselves to one or two children had a stressed out and complaining mother who said she couldn't do it anymore "with all these kids".  I am reminded once again how it's important to keep a calm and cool head. To let things go. To cut out appointments if we have to. To let others down in order to be a better parent to our kids.

Little eyes are watching us, taking in our every move. Little ears are listening, taking in every word and every complaint. And little minds are always thinking; always coming to conclusions of their own--whether they are the right conclusions or not.

Epiphany

Wow, just hit with an epiphany!

We need suffering in order learn how to love!

Key word here is "learn". Suffering doesn't make us love but is the tool to learn. With suffering, we learn compassion and empathy. We learn love.

I have heard this before but it never has hit me like it has before. No wonder we need to suffer! No wonder!

So it's good that we suffer. That is our growing time. It is very painful but it means that God is working in your soul, not that He has abandoned you.

No bitterness in my heart when I say that I hope everyone suffers a little bit. I hope everyone learns how to love. Then, we will all understand one another a little more.

Suffering

I had thought I was suffering before, but I had no idea what I was in for next.

I wrote an article--which I had naively thought would be received on a neutral basis on how I did not let my son receive Communion one time.

This was an outrage to so many, and without giving me a chance or fully reading the article, the yelled at me (through the comments) on how very wrong I was.

I can't really explain what this has done to me. Without being dramatic, I can say that, other than my heart attack, I have never suffered more in my life than I have these past few days.

To be judged so harshly without knowing the situation, and then to be told your worst fears--that you are not a good mother. And that you showed a lack of love toward your child. Not one person, but many.

They all have stones in their hands, every one of them.

I have avoided all media but after a while, these comments began to leak into my email. I told my brother to pull the article.

To make things worse, he doesn't want me to write for him anymore. He did not officially "fire" me; I had told him that I couldn't do this anymore, and he and my other brother told me not to give up. But when I reconsidered, it seemed that my brother had been thinking as well; he felt it best for me to "lay low" and when and if  did write for him again, to go under a pseudonym. I don't really want to do that. If I write, I want to write as myself, not someone else. It feels like I am a criminal or something.

There is no where that I feel free to go anymore. I have no more friends. I do not have Sunshine and I do not have Kate. I no longer have Facebook friends since I can't go on (at least until it calms down.)

I thought to myself yesterday, "Now I know how drug addicts feel. And porn addicts. And alcoholics. And child molesters. All those people who have done horrible things and are judged and never given another chance. " I can honestly say, I know how they feel.

Whether it is over something truly criminal or something like a personal decision, people can be so cruel. They have the power with words to hurt you and then isolate you.

I also have to say that I totally understand why so many people can't see the sincerity in Christians.

These "Christian" mothers who all yelled at me and just kept going, and going and going, throwing stones...and when they saw that already I was hurt, they threw another one. All for "Standing up for Jesus", they say. All for "doing what is right."

That is what is right?

That's Christian love? And they wonder why they can't get any converts???

Today, when I sneaked on Facebook to see if things had calmed down, I saw a FB Friend of mine say that she had "amazingly got a pro-choice friend to admit she was wrong through a debate."  While everyone praised this woman for her wise and wonderful words, I dared to type: "That was extremely courageous of that woman. I hope everyone gave her props for that." And then I quickly got off before I was rebuked.

Suffering.

I was under so much heartache yesterday that I experienced what grieving people say they experience, which is physical pain. I had always wondered how that was possible, how could someone who is suffering heartache have a physical feeling with it?

But strangely enough, it does happen. I had both emotional and physical heartache yesterday and the day before. For two days, the pain never left me. I ended up feeling feverish and achy.

On top of that, no one called me. Not one person tried to reach out to me. I truly felt so alone.

I ended up praying to God, "Lord, no wonder so many people kill themselves. No wonder. If this is love, if this is how we treat one another, no wonder."

Why do we do this to one another? Why are we so hard on one another? If someone falls down, why don't we lift them up, instead of explaining why they fell?

It is God's job to throw down the arrogant and our job to pick them back up again. That is it and that is all. Why do we feel we have to do more?

I had thought to myself, rather ruefully, "Oh well, at least all these people who cause me suffering will bring me to heaven!"

Immediately, the next thought flashed through my mind: "No. First you need to learn to love the people who cause you to suffer--then you will go to heaven."

Suffering.

I feel like today finally, I have come out of the peak of the suffering. That is not to say that heartache is not still there. I am still alone. I still won't go on Facebook. I no longer have a job or purpose. I am simply housewife and mother. I still need to work through the sadness.

But today I realized something. It's ok for me to suffer once in a while. We all have to go through periods of darkness, just like God gives us periods of sunshine. As hard as it is, we need the suffering to cling to God. That is our special time with Jesus.

Despite this terrible pain, the horrible thoughts, and all that comes with suffering, I have felt alone in human terms but never alone spiritually. It was as though He was following me through my day. Every time I cried, He was there, soothing me.

That's why I realized today that suffering is very necessary. It is hard and difficult but it is the only time I feel "holy." I feel holy because I am next to Holiness, and Holiness is bringing through it, and teaching me to suffer, and helping to pray for my persecutors. I couldn't do that on my own.

Jesus suffered, so we can't escape it. We all have to go through it at some point in our lives or many times. But it will make us holy.

Today I have the happy thought that my suffering will raise me up to sit closer to Him in heaven.

How to suffer with joy

This entry is not a "how to suffer with joy", it's a "HOW do you suffer with joy?" Anyone know?

I know I don't. There are days when I feel I can do it. I can sacrifice for others. I can smile on the outside even though I feel sad on the inside.

But there are days like today, I just suffer.

"The Lord loveth the cheerful giver." This quote goes often through my head. Why does He loveth (loves) the cheerful giver?

Maybe because He knows that the cheerful giver is giving all he/she has. Maybe they are "done" and yet still giving. Maybe they are ok with no letting others know their suffering, or how they have been the cause of it, for love of them. The "cheerful giver" has understood love. Maybe that's why the Lord loves them.

I am not there yet. I want to be. I want to be cheerful for my family, I want to create joy, not sadness. I want to help where I can help. I often think what a gift this is that we all have--the opportunity to lighten someone's load, to make their day a little brighter, but we hardly ever do this. That's because it takes a lot of sacrifice and heartache. It means we have to be last. It means we sometimes will be totally forgotten about.

The mystery is in the joy. Or maybe the mystery is in the suffering.