11.30.08
Posted in Shameless plugs at 9:48 am by ginny
Okay, “hate” may be too strong a word. Let me just say that this year, I’m doing a lot of my Christmas shopping online. I was not among the earlybird crowds who hit the stores during the pre-dawn hours on Black Friday. I received an invitation to join some diehard family members who were venturing to Kohl’s at dark o’clock, but I declined. Heck, I have a two-month-old. I will not be getting up at 4 A.M. on any day that I don’t absolutely HAVE to, thank you very much.
If you, like me, are in the midst of your online Christmas shopping, here’s a little suggestion: Mary and Me makes a great gift for the women in your life. In the interest of full disclosure, yes, I am the author. As such, I can honestly say that I know the book intimately, and can tell you that it’s full of intriguing reflections from women of all ages who share their thoughts and feelings about Mary. If you already love Mary, the book will give you even more reasons to do so. If you are indifferent to/confused by/wary of Mary, this book will introduce you to women who understand those feelings, and who have come to see Mary in a new, more personal light.
Interested in a sample chapter? Visit the St. Anthony Messenger Press site. You can also read a review by clicking here.
Thank you for your attention. We will now return to our regular blogging.
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11.26.08
Posted in Musings at 10:38 am by ginny
1. I’m thankful for my job. In this economy, I’m lucky to have one, particularly one that is as intellectually challenging as teaching. I am never bored at my job; never. That said,
2. I’m thankful I don’t have to go back to work until Monday (HUZZAH!).
3. I’m thankful for family, for my two little guys, for the fact that my sister and her kiddies are in town for the holiday and that the girls get to meet their new little cousin Luke for the first time. It will be a much-photographed moment, I am sure.
4. I’m thankful for Peet’s Earl Grey with Lavender tea. It is, in a word, divine. Other writers may abuse alcohol or cocaine or nicotine; I just drink cup after cup of this heavenly stuff (much more civilized, don’t you think?).
5. I’m thankful for these shoes. They were a splurge, to be sure, but they are the most comfortable heels I have ever worn. EVER. And given how much I am on my feet during the day (see #1 above), that’s a pretty huge feature. “I love these shoes,” I told my husband the other night. “I LOVE these shoes. I want to marry these shoes.”
“You’re already married,” he reminded me patiently.
6. I’m thankful that I belong to a faith where the love of Mary is not just tolerated but actively encouraged. Along with that, I’m grateful that I’ve come to see her as not just a pretty lady on a pedestal but as a complex figure, a spiritual guide, a woman who can speak to and empathize with us in our darkest moments.
7. I’m thankful that there is a God who chose to be born of that woman, to enter our messy and broken world and offer us another way of looking at things like forgiveness and eternal life and love.
8. I’m thankful that we have a holiday dedicated to thankfulness. I’m a better person for it.
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11.24.08
Posted in Images of Mary at 3:27 pm by ginny
I’ve been hearing a lot about Australia lately, probably because of the new movie of the same title. It stars Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman and appears to be a sprawling romance of the kind I adore. Of course, I have young kids, which means I see one movie every 1.2 years. I have a hunch that when my hubby and I actually arrange for a sitter and escape to the cineplex, he’ll have an easier time convincing me to see the new James Bond than I will convincing him to see the Australian Gone With the Wind.
Anyhow. Check out this beautiful Australian Madonna and Child, called “Our Lady of the Aborigines,” which I found on Holy Cards for Your Inspiration, by way of Sarah’s blog:
I love it. It cracks open my default image of Mary as a European woman in blue and white robes, and reminds me that she is a woman of many faces, races, and cultures. She’s truly the Universal Mother … which is exactly what we need her to be.
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11.19.08
Posted in Images of Mary, Musings at 2:46 pm by ginny
In the parking lot of our church, there’s a grotto to Mary.
It’s clearly been there a while. Mary looks a bit weathered, somewhat in need of a paint job if you get up close to her. But she’s still Mary.
It’s lovingly tended by the gardening group. When I took these photos last summer, there were pink cosmos and lavender and white shrub roses bordering this little space (outside of the photo, alas). A small stone cherub sits pensively in a birdbath. Little votives burn inside the cave.
There’s a bench in front of Mary, and I’ve seen ragged people lying on it, asleep. It’s nice to think that they have a beautiful place to come and rest. Hopefully the peacefulness of this spot rubs off on them.
It occurred to me once that this grotto takes up a lot of prime space. This church parking lot gets crowded at Mass time. Many folks have to circle the block looking for a curbside space, and if you’ve ever lived in San Francisco, well, you know why SF Catholics have a great devotion to Our Lady of Parking (”Hail Mary, full of grace, please find me a parking space.”) A pragmatist would say, “Gee, if that grotto weren’t there, we could fit twenty more cars into this space … maybe more ….”
But I hope we never get that practical. This grotto, standing in the heart of a busy parking lot in the heart of a busy city, has — on more than one occasion — calmed my own busy heart. And our world needs more places like this, places where nature and prayer come together in one beautiful space.
Is it a stretch to call it holy ground? Maybe so. But it’s sure sacred to me.
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11.16.08
Posted in Uncategorized at 10:13 am by ginny
Sarah over at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering has written a beautiful review of Mary and Me. If you want to know more about the book, take a look…
…oh, and while you’re there, check out Sarah’s witty and thoughtful musings about faith, family, and how to give death threats to wasps.
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11.14.08
Posted in Musings at 5:30 pm by ginny
Today has been One of Those Days. It involved a toddler with a cold, whose behavior devolved into a string of deliberately defiant activities: rubbing yogurt in his hair, throwing his ball inside, eating Play-dough. It involved a two-month-old with a truly impressive poop, one that registered at least 6.0 on the Richter Scale and caused a spreading yellow stain on his sleeper. It’s oddly fascinating, the ability of infant poop to actually crawl UP a child’s back. I never know this could happen until I had kids.
It’s also about 79 degrees out, in November. That’s ridiculous, even for California. My thoughts turned to the melting polar ice caps, which is not exactly a moodlifter.
And, just to make the day really festive, I was sorting laundry in the kitchen when I smelled burning. Nothing was on the stove or in the oven. A brief investigation confirmed that it was, oddly, the dishwasher, which I promptly turned off. I now know what my husband and I will be doing with our Saturday morning. It will involve Sears, and a large outlay of cash.
What was my response to all of this? It was the compulsive eating of candy corn, which I don’t recommend as a coping mechanism. Far more helpful was the phone call from my mom, which fortituously occurred right after the dishwasher incident. “How are things going?” she asked innocently, whereupon I unloaded every bit of my frustration — the toddler defiance, the disgusting poop, the impromptu bath, the stacks of dishes now waiting to be washed by hand.
She listened and was utterly sympathetic. She did not say — as she could’ve — “Oh, you and your sister were every bit as frustrating when you were young.” She let me vent, and in so doing, took some of the teeth out of my nasty mood. And it occurred to me that this is what moms DO; they help lift some of the burden. They resist the temptation to make it about them, and they listen as if their kids’ dramas are every bit as earth-shattering as we make them sound. They help their kids cope, even when the kids are 35 and like to think they have it all under control. I will be the first to admit it: I still need my mommy.
And yes– things are better now. I’ve made headway into the pile of dishes. Matthew is napping, and Luke is cooing in his bassinet. I’m currently drinking homemade chai and breathing deeply.
Today did try my soul, but thankfully, tomorrow is another day. And yes: my mom rocks.
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11.09.08
Posted in Musings at 6:30 pm by ginny
Eight weeks have swept by in a rush. My maternity leave is ending and I am poised to return to work.
And to that, I say: yikes.
Frankly, I find myself wondering how I’m going to juggle it all. I think the answer may lie in lists. I’m a big believer in them, mainly because 1) I’m such a writer that if I don’t write something down, it seems somehow vague and unreal, and 2) there is such immense satisfaction in crossing off the items that I complete. In fact, when it comes to crafting “To-Do” lists, I often include tasks I’ve already completed, just so I can cross them off and feel like I’ve already accomplished something. Hey; it works. It helps me feel like I’m keeping my chin above water.
And I’ve alerted my husband to the fact that dinners for the next several weeks may be the kind that come frozen in a bag, or the type that arrive at the door, carried aloft by a teenager with a Round Table baseball cap. Again: whatever helps me keep that old chin high and dry.
I do think some prayer is in order, seriously. The catch, of course, is that I don’t really have time to pray, or at least to do the kind of long reflective praying that I used to. But I can’t forget that spiritual help is out there if I seek it. I’m sure there’s some patron saint of moms who work outside the home.
And, of course, there’s always Mary, who knows the guilt we moms feel about not being able to be everything to everyone at every moment. And I think she’d look at me and say, “You know what? Let it go, that guilt. Prioritize the most important things and let the rest lie. You’ll be just fine.”
I’ve got Our Lady of Multitasking on my side. I think I’ll make it.
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11.03.08
Posted in Feast Days and other fun times, Musings at 12:08 am by ginny
It’s official: our Luke is now part of the Church. He was baptized on All Saints’ Day, which is just about the coolest day to be baptized, period. Of course, I say that as woman who has come to regard the communion of saints as one of the best parts of being Catholic. It took me a while — about thirty years — to get to that point. I used to view the saints as so horribly boring and unreal in their goodness. That was before I realized that there were real-life struggles underneath those haloes. Now, I adore the saints. They’re my advocates. They’re my posse.
Of course, Mary is right up there on my list of favorites, so it was fitting that the baptism took place in the Lady Chapel of our church. A white statue of her stands above the altar, and she’s also the focal point of the woodcarving above. It’s a lovely spot. I’ve prayed there often.
It was a rainy, nasty day, but that made the contrast between the outside and the inside all the more dramatic. The stained glass windows were opaque from the grayness outside, but the candles were beautiful. They were white spots of light glowing against the stone. Luke wore the thin linen gown my dad was baptized in sixty-eight years ago, the one that Matthew wore two years ago. I loved it, that tangible link to the past. We sang the Litany of Saints; I’d made sure that my favorites were included in the list.
And as the water poured down outside, the waters of baptism flowed over my little boy’s dark head, and he smiled up at my husband, and I thought: this is what it’s all about. It’s about history, and belonging to something bigger than ourselves. It’s about family and friends who braved slick highways and lake-sized puddles to celebrate with us. It’s about faith and hope. Most of all — of course — it’s about love.
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10.25.08
Posted in Musings at 4:22 pm by ginny
A bouncy chair sits in the living room. Burp cloths are draped over the back of the sofa. The laundry basket overflows with onesies and swaddling blankets and sleepers.
It would take a stranger about 0.5 seconds to realize that a baby lives here.
Now that I’m in Round Two of parenting a newborn, I’m struck anew by how much these little people NEED. The feedings, the diaper changes, the swaying and singing when fussy, the baths in the sink, the binky re-inserted after little hands knock it out of the mouth — it’s all a lot of work. My little guy is utterly helpless to do anything himself.
That makes it all the more jaw-dropping that God would actually choose to become a newborn. I’m not the first person to realize this, of course; plenty of homilies touch on this topic, particularly at Christmas. But I’ve got to say, when a little scrunched red angry person is actually in the house, the incredible nature of the Incarnation takes on a whole new immediacy. God chose to become an eight-pounder with a bundle of needs that could not be met except by others — primarily by his mom. She did the things that the infant God could not do for himself.
I think that this is why so many people make a big deal of honoring Mary. If you’ve spent any time raising a baby, you know firsthand that she matters. She matters a lot. She will be loved as long as women feed their tiny babies and bathe them and watch them grow into people who will, one day, be able to do all of this — and more — for themselves.
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10.18.08
Posted in Images of Mary, Musings at 10:55 pm by ginny
It’s pretty easy to find beautiful images of Mary. This is one of my favorites:
It’s called Song of the Angels, by William-Adolphe Bouguereau. Why do I love it?
For one thing, it has a gentle feel. The colors, the pastoral background, the soft edges are calm and soothing. The subject itself is sweet. I mean, angels playing a lullabye to a baby; what’s not to love?
As nice as the serenade is, though, somehow the picture speaks most powerfully when I block out the angels and just focus on Mary and Jesus. They are the picture of peace, sitting there together, mother and son. He sleeps in her lap and she looks equally relaxed. It’s like a little moment in which the world outside them is held at bay. Peace reigns.
I spend a lot of time these days in that pose, sitting with my newborn in my lap or on my shoulder. Sometimes he snoozes, and I watch him as he sleeps. There’s such a heartbreaking innocence to the sleeping face of a baby. My little one doesn’t carry stress, or fear about money or health or the future. I wish I could say the same about me.
But there are times when I hold him and — somehow — the peacefulness of the moment overcomes the worries that normally shadow me. All the outside stressors are pushed away and I’m fully present in the reality of that little boy who rests on me and trusts that I’ll always be there. I drink in his smell and memorize every little detail of that face that is changing, imperceptibly, day by day. I know that in years to come, I’ll want to have this moment fixed in the photo album of my mind. I’ll want to revisit it and remember a fall afternoon when nothing else mattered but this moment of communion between my tiny boy and me.
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