You Never Grow Up…

Some kids never want to grow up. Others spend their entire childhood looking forward to the day when they will be considered grown-ups, and in their long-awaited early twenties are disappointed to discover that “being grown-up” is not as clear-cut a line as they thought it was.

That was me. I’m still looking forward to being grown up. But now I’m not as sure just how much longer that will take.

Once upon a time, my mother in her wisdom (I’m convinced God gives mothers a particular motherly grace that manifests itself as wisdom. They know things just by virtue of being mothers) said that when you are a little child, you think the world revolves around you, and everyone else is there to take care of you or amuse you. As you get older you come to realize this is not the case, and that there are other people in the world that are possibly of more importance than yourself. But the true mark of being grown up is learning to put others first and yourself last, giving yourself to the service of others.

Hearing that, I was afraid I’d never make it. My fantasies of magically being grown-up at eighteen or twenty-one were now completely shattered. “How old were you when you learned that?” I asked.

“I’m still learning it,” she replied.

I cannot describe how simultaneously reassuring and disappointing that revelation was to me. If my mother, having had roughly thirty more years than I in which to grow up, had not yet made it, I would probably be very old and gray before I could ever claim to be completely grown up. On the other hand, I didn’t have to.

If being grown up is, as in my mother’s definition, a perfection in selflessness, it is something none of us can attain in this life. I am not asked to be perfect. I am simply asked to strive for perfection. In that same way, I am not asked to reach a point where I can consider myself grown up. All I am asked to do is to continue to grow up, to continue striving, all my life.

Am I Feminine Enough?

I have a small confession to make. My Twin cousin and my Best Friend will both probably laugh out loud when they hear this, but it needs to be said anyway. There are some times when I don’t feel very feminine, when, in fact, I feel like I’ve failed at being a good woman. Those are times when I think of the following:

I don’t like to sew and I don’t like to cook.

Oh, I can do both enough to get by just fine on my own, but really, there are other things I’d rather be doing with my time. Like knitting, crocheting, writing letters, making lace, spinning yarn, reading, singing, playing my instruments, and other similar pursuits. Those are interesting. And I do like the kind of sewing that can be done with a needle and thread; it’s just the sewing machine that really bothers me.

But the image of the ideal woman I have before my mind (an image formed, I suppose, through reading books mostly a century old or older), is one who sews and cooks and cleans. And while spinning and lacemaking might be traditionally feminine pursuits, there is very little need for them nowadays, and thus I am wont to consider them unimportant.

I can darn a sock, knit a cable stitch or pick a G lick with ease and tranquility, but ask me to sew a collar or make a meal for a family of seven, half of whom can’t eat gluten, and I will instantly get all stressed out.

So if I’m not good at cooking or sewing, the question is, does that make me a failure as a woman?

Answer 1: Yes. You have definitely failed. You need to immediately get your act together and practice these essential feminine arts. Otherwise how are you going to take care of the family you are going to have someday? If you can’t cook, how will you please your husband? If you can’t sew, how are your daughters going to be able to find anything modest to wear? You need to leave off doing the things you like, because those aren’t important, and get very good at the things you don’t like, because those are the important ones.

Answer 2: No, you haven’t failed. Cooking and sewing are good things to know, but your femininity does not depend on those skills. Besides, it’s not like you can’t do those things at all, but you just don’t like doing them. Look at all those other very feminine things you can do. Most of all, look at who you are—a daughter of God. He doesn’t fault you for not having certain talents or skills. He just cares what you do with the ones you do have. Consider the lilies of the field…

Will you believe it, when I ask myself this question, I answer myself the first answer most of the time, even though I’m fairly sure answer 2 is much closer to the truth.

But then, once upon a time, my mother handed me a sport coat of my dad’s, and two leather elbow patches, and asked if I could sew them on. “It drives me nuts doing that,” she said. “I always poke myself, and it goes so slow—you have to do it by hand, and I can’t even see the holes.”

I was going to tell her I’d do it, when she added,

“I’m dreading it so much that I’d even be willing to trade you some other sewing if you’ll do it.”

Great bonus feature, I thought. My mother agreed to finish two shirts for me (which had already been cut out and partially assembled, minus the hard parts), and in return I would put the patches on Dad’s coat.

And then I thought to myself, “Gee. There are things even Mother doesn’t like to do. I guess you don’t have to be good at everything in order to be a good wife and mother, or even a good woman.”

Advice to Self: God gives everybody a different set of strengths and weaknesses. The trick is to use your strengths well, and for the glory of God. Work on your weaknesses, but don’t fault yourself for them.

Our Hearts Are Restless

Ever have a one-by-two moment? It’s like a two-by-four moment, only gentler. I hope I’m not the only one who gets these.

Once upon a time I went to Adoration on a retreat in the middle of a busy school year. There was a lot on my mind, and life was getting really crazy. Most of the time I’m excited about Adoration, but this time I really was not looking forward to that Holy Hour, because Adoration meant mental prayer, talking to God and listening for His answers, and that meant thinking, and I was tired of thinking.

I went into Adoration and knelt down, and suddenly an hour had passed and everyone was getting up. I don’t remember what, if anything, happened during that hour, but I noticed, strangely, that I felt rested and refreshed, and thinking didn’t hurt anymore. That was when I learned that Adoration does not always mean mental prayer, nor formal prayer, but sometimes it’s just resting in Jesus.

“Our hearts are restless, O God, until they rest in Thee.” –St. Augustine

Last weekend I was visiting my Twin Cousin (in actuality we are cousins, not twins. She is two months older than I am. But we grew up together, and were thick as thieves when we were younger (and still very close), so when the term was invented, in the hallways back at Community College when we were seventeen or so, it seemed appropriate), and she, being the good cousin that she is, took me to Adoration, because it was handy, so why not?

N. B. If you ever have the opportunity to visit the Adoration Chapel at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Fargo, ND, do it. You’ll be glad you did. It is lovely.

 

So there I was in Adoration, grateful to be there, since I don’t get many such opportunities since graduating, but I hadn’t been notified beforehand that such was our destination, so I was without my rosary, without my Bible, without my journal, all the usual things I take with me to Adoration. It was just me and Jesus. There was a lot on my mind, but somehow I couldn’t get it formed into words. So after a while I gave up and asked what He wanted to say to me.

“Rest in Me,” he said. And that was all. I didn’t want to rest. I didn’t feel I should be resting. Hadn’t I been resting for a long time? Wasn’t there a lot we needed to catch up on? Shouldn’t I be working through some of my problems in this precious time? But no, that was all He said.

It is not good to argue with Jesus. I have learned this. So, reluctantly, like a small child who has been told to go to bed in the middle of putting together a picture-puzzle, I composed myself to rest.

It was only after I got home and picked up Dr. Edward Sri’s book “A Biblical Walk Through the Mass” that I read these words: “John Paul II taught that when we rest in the Lord’s presence in the Eucharist it is as if we become like the beloved disciple who rested on Jesus’ breast during the Last Supper.”

And there was my little one-by-two moment. How often have I been busy with my own agenda in Jesus’ presence, trying to get things sorted out efficiently, when all He wanted me to do was be still and let Him love me? How often have I been busy trying to get things done in the presence of my family and friends, when love was all that was needed?