Pray Globally, Act Locally

Last week, I had the opportunity to meet Immaculee Ilbagiza. She was speaking at my Alma Mater, Old Dominion University. I attended the lecture with my father and my sister. We arrived early, as good groupies do, and we found that we were ushered into a reception area. There we discovered rockfish with risotto and sundried tomatoes, a glass of chardonnay, and some sweet treats. We found a nice spot to nosh and chat and I gazed across the room and there she was! The three of us lit up. We immediately recognized our sister in Christ. She was busy exchanging pleasantries with members of the board of directors at the University as we made our way towards her. Our anxious presence caused her company to depart and offer us some face time with Immaculee. I confessed right off the bat that we were groupies. She put down her glass of wine, her shoulders dropped and her eyes lit up and she gave me a very warm embrace and she generously indulged us in a photo op. No words of great meaning were exchanged. We just knew that we were with our sister for a moment.

One of the many blessings of being the member of a faith family is that when you meet someone who shares your faith, all racial, geographical, and demographic differences melt away.

If you don’t know her story, read it. There is not a heart that she cannot touch. Her story is one of faith and forgiveness in the face of death. She is a survivor of the Rwandan genocide that ended the lives of her entire family and one million others in the span of three months. In that three month period, she was hidden in a 3’x4’ bathroom with six other women and a seven-year-old child. There she found herself plotting a revenge on her family’s killers. The anger ate away at her. All she had when she entered her confinement was the clothing on her back and the rosary her father had given her when she last saw him. She prayed and found that only during prayer did the anger subside. And, in the most desperate moment of hiding, she faced profound doubt about the very existence of God. But, instead she found a profound faith. She prayed to God to protect her in this moment, and she vowed to never listen to those gnawing thoughts of doubt and anger again. The subsequent events of her survival are nothing short of miraculous.

When I read her story and when I hear about the atrocities that have happened in Rwanda and in other countries in Africa like Sudan and Darfur and Uganda, I feel overwhelmed. I feel guilt. What can I do? What is God asking of us who are so fortunate? Many of us will write a check and hope that some good will come of it. Recently, many people contributed to the controversial KONY2012 campaign. But, there must be more we can do.

As we were standing in line for the book signing, I elbowed my sister and said, “So, when are we going to Rwanda?” She gave me that look that big sisters give to their idiotic little sisters. But, I feel an urgency to hop on a plane and set up a school or volunteer at an orphanage. When I listened to Immaculee recount her harrowing story of survival, I asked myself, “what is God asking of me?” Why am I so drawn to Immaculee and her message?

Her message is simple and my sister knew that. Love your neighbor and forgive others as you would like to be forgiven. And don't just love your mother and cute babies. Love your enemy. Forgive those who have committed crimes against humanity. Forgive the man who killed your mother? Yes. It is a simple but radical message and it is a very familiar message. That is because her message is Christ’s message and Immaculee is the first one to admit that.

We are simply called to love. I don’t have to book a flight to Africa to do that, ergo the “look” from my sister. That is not my station in life right now. Maybe someday, I will be able to do some missionary work. But, right now, my sister and I are moms. And we are not “just” moms as the world would lead us to believe. Rather, we are in a place of great importance. We have the power to teach love that will be spread geometrically outward to humanity and will be multiplied by my five and her six children. My parents can boast of spreading the love through their five children and their twenty-two grandchildren. And this is something to boast about. My father lost his entire family before he was thirty. His father died suddenly when my father was a teenager. His only sister was killed as the result of a drunk driving car accident when she was just twenty. His mother died just before I was born. It wasn't genocide that took his family, but, rather, untimely sickness and tragedy. This, we will all face. What my father and Immaculee share is a faith that perseveres through tragedy and loss. And, he has passed that faith onto my five siblings and our children.

We can change the world, one smile, one kind act, one loving family at a time. So, I will pray globally for those that are suffering and I will act locally to spread God’s message of love beginning by creating a loving, peaceful home.

Ides of March *Spoiler Alert*

Bill and I had a wonderful date night this past weekend complete with a dinner and a movie. We chose Ides of March because the trailer was intriguing. I tend to avoid reading reviews before I go to a movie because how is some stranger going to know what I like in a movie. And most reviews spoil the movie for me. And, yet, here I am writing a review. So, if you were planning on going to see it. Go. Be entertained and then come back and have a read.

But, I will call this more of an analysis. Yes, I like the sound of that. It is an analysis of what I discovered in the movie to be a powerful statement on the use, purpose, and consequences of abortion. I am fairly certain that this statement was an unintended consequence of the producers, though. Just a guess, but, sometimes, we cannot see what is right before our eyes.

The movie is a behind the scenes look at the dark side of politics during a presidential primary. George Clooney plays an atheist progressive democrat candidate who is running against a Christian moderate democrat. Ryan Gosling plays a young, ambitious, kool-aid drinking campaign adviser to Clooney's character. It is clear that all players will use whatever information they can to promote their candidate and demonize their opponent. Gosling's character discusses various ways to spin information. It's clearly all a game. And you get the sense that "all is fair in love and war" is embraced and played out here.

Enter the intern. A political intern. I don't even have to tell you that the intern is female, do I? And, she is attractive? And that Gosling and the intern engage in a meaningless sexual encounter following drinks one night? You saw that coming. That seems to be what is associated with political interns. Go figure.

On a subsequent encounter with Gosling, the intern reveals that she had a meaningless and unintended sexual encounter with the married candidate played by Clooney. And now she is pregnant. A wall comes up and Gosling's character jumps into campaign mode and finds a way to get campaign funds to pay for an abortion and take care of "the situation."

A child has been conceived. It is called a situation. The intern is called a situation. You can see it in her eyes when that word is used. She is told to get the abortion and disappear. She overdoses on the post abortive medications mixed with alcohol. She has been discarded as yesterdays trash just as the baby was. Life, in this scenario is something to be used and assigned a value based on how it can serve or how it can interfere. The practice of abortion is the practice of assigning value to a human life based on subjective criteria. How can this baby serve me? How can this baby interfere with my life?

What if, she got out of town before she had the abortion? What if she decided that these diabolical political types were going to just use and abuse her and throw her out? What if she went ahead and had the baby and the scandal broke out? What if the dirty games were revealed and exposed? In the end, the baby would secure a just and forthright political process. But, in the end of this movie, we are left knowing that the winning candidate raped, plundered,and pillaged his way to the top. And, nothing is what it seems.

Hey, Michael Moore You Got Some Splainin' to Do!

In what kind of twisted world do the rights of a known terrorist who is responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent lives trump the rights of an unborn child? In Michael Moore's world, is the answer. Today, on The View , Michael Moore presented his new book. I don't know what it is about, although there is a charming picture on the cover.  But, no interview with Michael Moore is complete without asking him his opinion on the Iraq war and the fate of Osama bin Laden.  Apparently, he is the beacon of truth and honor when it comes to right to life issues.  Except when it comes to abortion.  What?! Uh, yeah. He declared with grand arm gestures, "As a catholic, it is wrong to take the life of a person unless it is in self defense!"  Good.  Me, too.  I'm right there with ya, Michael.  But when the blonde co-host asked him if that meant he was pro-life, he hesitated and mumbled and tried to recover, saying, "I'm pro-life in the sense that I don't believe you should kill people."  Good.  Me either.  Killing people is serious, wrong business.  If he was sitting next to me, I would have fist bumped him.

But, then, I heard the words..."Not when it comes to abortion."  And, Joy Behar could be heard giving an assist to the stumbling guest, by saying..."When they're alive.  When they are alive. He's pro-life when they are alive."  Okay.  Awkward.  Michael Moore is right to life when people are alive.  But that does not include abortion.  Does that mean, Michael Moore, that you came on The View today to say that Osama bin Laden deserved his day in court but these babies are not alive?

Where Were You?

I was folding a load of laundry when I got the call from my father that the first plane had hit.  I turned on the television in my bedroom quietly.  I had a toddler sleeping in the next room and I didn't want to wake her.  There I sat, with my pregnant belly, still in my bed clothes, folding laundry when I watched the second plane fly into the second tower.  I called my father back and we were mostly speechless but making comments in the form of unfinished sentences and moments of silence as we were caught in disbelief.  Then, we got news about the pentagon.  Dad said he was going to call my other siblings.  I attempted to call my husband.  I would not be able to reach him for three hours.

I never finished folding that load.

Somehow, I fed my little girl and we sat in the den that morning.  She was oblivious to the chatter on the television as she emptied the legos out of the box and clinked them together and tried to stack them.  When the images became unbearable and the panic of non-stop breaking news started to scroll across the bottom of the screen, I turned off the television and just sat with my daughter and watched her play. Occasionally, I felt the sure kick of a new life, that of my soon to be first born son.  I was aware at that point of how many moms and dads had perished.

Where were you, God?  Where were all the guardian angels to catch those people when they had to jump because the heat from the flames was far worse than the thought of plunging to their death?  Where were you, God?  Does that not enter the mind of all of us, no matter how sure or unsure we are of our faith?  And, certainly the non believers ask, where was your God on September 11, 2001? 

Where is God?  Right now.  When a child is starving.  When an earth quake strikes. 

We believe him to be omniscient.  He, and only He, has the ability to see the really big, big picture.  So, for us, mere humans, with our brains no bigger than the size of our coupled fists, it is difficult to comprehend how He could allow these things to happen.  We can't see the complete picture from all angles.  We are lacking the gift of infinite wisdom. We only know a small part of the story.  We know what we read in the bible and what is passed down through our tradition as Christians.  But, God does not really spell it all out for us.  So much of our life on earth is incomprehensible.  And it is in these times of horrific tragedy where our faith takes on a palpable shape in our lives.  At these crossroads we can either continue to walk in faith or we can walk away.  We can declare that God is dead or we can ask God what we are to do next.

We have come this far by faith.  Let us continue on in faith, despite circumstantial evidence to the contrary.  By faith, I have my second born son, Joseph. There is no other explanation for his being in this world.  Without faith, I would not have left myself open for a fifth child at the age of 43.  Each time I behold him, the thought crosses my mind that I cannot understand how this world came to be, nor how it is each day, but I know that when I trust God, my life unfolds magnificently.

Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. 

~Hebrews 11:1 

The Beauty of the Truth

I plucked a red pepper out of the garden yesterday. 
It was well formed with rounded quadrants at the top and bottom.  The skin was soft, smooth and ruby red.  The stem was perky and green and still had a leaf attached.  It had a scent of pepper mingling with sweetness.  It was simply beautiful.  It sits on my window sill and I gaze at it when I am at the sink.  I tend to put small beautiful things on my window sill.  I spend a lot of time in my kitchen and I like to surround myself with beautiful things.   Making beautiful things gives me great pleasure, too. When I cook, I am aware of the color and presentation of the food as much as the taste.  I consider the color of the platter and how it will complement my entree.  There is something about beauty, wherever it is found, that captivates us and makes us pause for a moment.  But, what is in that moment?  Why do we have beauty in our lives?

Fra Angelico was a monk who was also a painter.  I had the opportunity to explore the San Marco Monastery in Florence when I was in college.  On each dormitory wall, he had painted a fresco depicting moments in Christ's life.  I stood in the nearly empty dorms and imagined what it must have been like to awaken in this spartan room and the only thing other than walls and floor to greet the monk was a thing of beauty.  Colors and lines and symbols telling the story of our Lord.  What richness among the impoverished life of these monks!  It was as if they traded all the treasures that this natural world has to offer to live in the beauty of the eternal truth.

The life of Christ has inspired some of the most magnificent works of beauty known to man.  During my time in Florence and Rome, I was able to experience coming face to face with so much beauty.  So many gifted painters.  Not just Michelangelo and Leonardo Da vinci, but their many apprentices, too.  And not just painting, but literature, architecture, and music has also been created by man to glorify God.  We have G.K. Chesterton, Flannery O'Connor, and  Robert Southwell, to name a few, whose writing uses the beauty of language in either its poetic or reasonable tilt to tell the truth. 


By stark contrast, when beauty is absent, we find darkness, confusion, destruction and despair.  When the towers fell, ten years ago on September 11, 2001, we witnessed the opposite of creation.  We witnessed destruction.  The images that emerged from that tragic day were filled with darkness, confusion, destruction and despair.  In the same way, we pause and we are captivated.  But there is something very different that moment when we behold ugliness. When something is created to glorify God, there will be beauty.  If we really believe this to be true, we must question how war and acts of war can ever be considered acts that glorify God.  In light of the recent conflicts, Pope Benedict has said that we need to be "asking ourselves if it is still licit to admit the very existence of a 'just war'."  In the face of the depraved images of war, I hope we can pause and reflect on how we can resolve the problems in the world without turning to acts of war.

Since September 11, 2001, we have each done our part to restore beauty to the landscape of our life.  There are so many little ways that we can participate in God's ongoing creation.  Grow a garden, knit a scarf, paint a picture, play a song on the piano and take moments to experience beauty wherever you can find it.  And create it where it is lacking.

from New Heaven, New War

With tears He fights and wins the field,
His naked breast stands for a shield,
His battering shot are babish cries,
His arrows, looks of weeping eyes,
His martial ensigns, cold and need,

And feeble flesh His warrior's steed.
~Robert Southwell

Botticelli, Madonna of the Magnificat

Same Sticky Counters, Different Day

Irene has come and gone. She didn't leave much damage behind for me to clean up. I didn't even lose power. Yet, my house looks like a hurricane hit it from the inside. I have thought of writing a to-do-list. But that is just too obvious. So, I chatted with a few friends online and discovered they are in the same boat. I mean, not a similar boat, but exactly the same model, year and color. One friend posted her to-do-list and I could just cut and paste it and call it mine. That does not make the situation any better. Not only do I feel overwhelmed, but I am not in any way special or unique. I cannot lament that no one understands. About a zillion other women understand. Not only do they understand, but they can trump me with their stories.

So, what's the point? How do I find meaning in the crumby, the sticky, the wet
and the tantrum-y essence of motherhood?


I have many ideas on how to find the meaning. I could live "in the moment." Embrace the "nowness" of life. Just exist for the pureness of the immediate space in front of me. Saturate my senses in the being of a mother with two toddlers at her ankles. On days like this, living in the moment talk gets big eye rolls from me. How am I supposed to linger in the moment of a toddler who has discovered he can climb up on the bar, over the bar and dance on the edge and climb back down. And do it over again, repeatedly, ad nauseum.


I "know" what I need to do. But, today, I have lost either the will or the will power to do it. So, on days like this, I really lower my expectations.

I do just enough housework to keep the vermin at bay. I twist my hair in a clip, brush my teeth and get dressed just enough to look decent from the vantage point of the bus driver when he comes to get the kids but not so dressed that I could go grocery shopping without getting wide eyed looks from fellow shoppers. It's either hormones or just plain exhaustion. Whatever it is, it is not unique to motherhood or being a woman or being a stay at home mom. This is an everyman day. Dads have it, too. And grandmas and grandpas and young executives and athletes. And I can be thankful that it is just a day or two or three. If it went on for two weeks or more, I would have to seek help. So, I cannot blame my vocation or the number of kids. At the end of the day, or at the end of days, as it were, my vocation will be a key to my salvation. That, and my conviction to persevere to the end, despite days like these.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart
And do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5

Irene, Downgraded to Tropical Storm and Veers off to the East

The Mid Atlantic States are breathing a sigh of relief as they are spared from the blow that they were expecting from Hurricane Irene. All that is left are rainbows and smiling puppies as Irene took a sharp turn to the east...

Okay, so I am up way too late and dreaming up the headlines for the morning. Because I want to wake up and find out that the forecasters were wrong. I want to hear that the cone of uncertainty was indeed uncertain. And what is now certain is that this storm is a non-story. I want to go about my normal order of business. I want to watch the newscasters quickly dig up new news story now that Irene has been lost at sea. Don't we have shark bite stories to cover? I'd like to take my kids to the pool to enjoy one of the last days of summer 2011. I don't want to spend the morning battening down the hatches and soothing anxious children who wonder why I am battening down the hatches. I don't even know how to batten. And I don't know where we keep the hatches.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I do know that I have to show up and be ready. So, that means I have to go to bed. I pray that God is merciful to all those in the path of this storm. And, I pray that I can be a source of calm and confidence for my children as we ride out this storm together.


Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:34