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Tag: choose life

Celebrate New Life Giveaway

January 21, 2019January 21, 20195 Comments

Toby will turn six months this Friday. Six months! Doesn’t it feel like just yesterday when I was weeping and fretting and shopping for travel trailers in the Sierra-Nevadas? Seriously. I don’t know how we went from here…

IMG_9787

To here…

IMG_3022so dang fast. (Let’s all now pause for a moment and contemplate the glory of those legs….)

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Instagram post 2191528640734654824_7084101164 Starting slow. A few wreaths here, a few pillows there (Hello, dear friend!), a few prayers every day, and our Jessie Tree nightly. Trying not to do All The Things All At Once for a change. Partly because we plan on keeping all this going to Candlemas. Partly because we’re old and tired! 😂👵🏻👨🏻‍🦳😂
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#slowdecorating #slowadvent #easingthetoddlerintoit #easingmommyintoittoo #catholicchristmas #liturgicalliving #liturgicalyear #firstweekofadvent
Instagram post 2190062735664172143_7084101164 Week 1: Darkness⁣
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“The night is far gone, the day is near.” (Rom 13:12)⁣
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Once, long ago, the world was black as night. The sun still shone above, but inside the hearts of men, all was dark.⁣
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That darkness was the darkness of a soul with no hope for heaven. The gates to Paradise had long since been closed. Death, sorrow, and loss were everywhere. Sin was everywhere. And there was no way out.⁣
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Unlike now, there was no Baptism to restore God’s life to the soul, no Confession to wipe the soul’s slate clean. Nor were there any images of God, dying on a cross for love of us, to comfort and console. Atonement was impossible. Redemption seemed more impossible. And despair was the lot of mankind.⁣
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Then, a babe was born. And dark became light.⁣
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Every Advent, the Church calls us to look back on the world’s dark night, and to remember the people who walked in that darkness—their grief, their confusion, their desperation. She also calls us to remember our own dark nights—the moments when sin or grief or fear surrounded us. To stare, even for a moment, into the blackness of the past—the world’s and our own—is to realize just how beautifully blinding the light of Christ is.⁣
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But darkness doesn’t just belong to the past. For each of us, somewhere in our hearts or lives, it lingers. There’s always a door we’ve slammed shut against Him, a space in our heart we won’t let Him enter. And the darkness that abides within that space robs us of the fullness of joy the babe in Bethlehem came to bring.⁣
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Don’t let it linger any longer.⁣
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This Advent, look at the darkness you can’t shake: the secret sin or deep-seeded fear, the persistent anxiety or reoccurring doubt, the toxic relationship or the deadly habit, the grudging resentment or the unfounded guilt. Whatever it is, look at the darkness straight on. Acknowledge it. Name it. Then, invite Christ into it. Whisper or shout or cry “Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!” Ask Him to light up the darkness in your life with His mercy and illuminate the shadowy corners of your soul with His love.⁣
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Jesus didn’t come to bring light to a generic world. He came to bring light to your world. He came to bring light to you. Open the door.
Instagram post 2187514040129387878_7084101164 Too busy cooking and baby wrangling to take many pictures, but today I’m grateful for black curls and knit rompers; for a 27 pound baby so worn out from traveling that he needed to sleep not just with his mama but ON his mama all night long; for chiropractic care; for my great-grandma’s stuffing recipe; for my crazy sisters who were clearing the Thanksgiving table before anyone had finished eating; for a husband who drove through 10 hours of wind and rain to get me to my family and then made martinis for everyone; for my dad, who is here; for my Mom, who is Toby’s adorer-in-chief; for nieces and nephews who surround my boy with joyful noise; for 24 hours with no deadlines or writing; for $15 thermal Christmas pajamas from Target; for money to pay our bills; for friends to miss; for familiar smells; for this space and all of you, who so patiently allow me to process my thoughts; for work that draws me closer to Christ; for a God who is faithful and shows me more and more of his love with each passing year; for a bed that is calling my name. And for ten thousand things more that I’m too tired to list. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. May your list of thanks be as endless as mine. #thanksgiving #thankful #tired #full
Instagram post 2185019378680292131_7084101164 How can you help friends and family who are adopting?⁣
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1. Pray. Just like you pray for expectant friends, pray for adopting friends, too. Adoption can bring many spiritual struggles, and adoptive families need your prayers.⁣
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2. Learn about adoption. Seek to understand its complexities. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. ⁣
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3. If someone is fundraising for an adoption, help if you can. Domestic infant adoptions typically cost more than what most Catholic school teachers make in a year. Sometimes twice as much. And adoption shouldn’t just be for the wealthy.⁣
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4. Welcome the baby and celebrate the new mom. Most adoptive families don’t want showers. We definitely didn’t. But once baby comes home, gifts of clothes and baby gear—new and used—are still needed. And one of the best gifts I can think of is a diaper bag from @lilyjadeco.⁣
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In celebration of #NationalAdoptionDay, @lilyjadeco sent me the stunning Elizabeth bag (which is currently on sale). It’s beautiful, amazingly well made, and somehow big enough to carry everything I need for both Toby and me: diapers, wipes, snacks, toys, lipstick, and even my 13” MacBook, which is a Godsend when I have to go to meetings with my baby and my computer. #happens. Best of all, it converts from shoulder carry to back pack—something that is key when you have a toddler with a death wish on your hands. 🙄⁣
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This bag is easily the most beautiful and functional bag I’ve ever owned, and I’m praying we get to use it for a second baby. BUT, honestly, I never could have bought it for myself after we adopted Toby. It’s worth every penny. But when you’ve spent a year’s salary adopting a child, nice bags aren’t in the budget. If friends had gotten together to buy me this bag, though, I would have been over the moon.⁣
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So, if you want to help an adopting or expecting friend welcome her baby with the world’s best group gift (or upgrade your current bag), follow the link in my profile. And thank @lilyjadeco for all it does to support adoptive families and moms facing unplanned pregnancies!⁣
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#ad #LilyJadeAmbassador #LilyJadeLovesAdoption #LilyJade #adoption #adoptivemom #diaperbag  #babyshower #babygift #adoptiongift
Instagram post 2182264408985935980_7084101164 I used to walk outside every day. In my ball cap and yoga pants, I would circle my old neighborhood in Steubenville again and again. Everyone knew me. I knew everyone. And every walk was a joy.⁣
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Then, I married and moved. We tore a house apart, adopted a baby, and started watching him grow. Not surprisingly, somewhere along the way, the walking stopped. Between too many contractors, too many deadlines, and too little sleep, I always had an excuse to sit.⁣
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Four months ago, though, I decided I’d had enough sitting. I needed to walk. So, Toby and I started heading out every morning, at 8. And we have continued heading out, through heat and humidity, wind and drizzle, and now frosty temps and snow.⁣
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We walk briskly for 1 hour, passing rambling Victorian homes, century-old trees, children on their way to school, and parents on their way to work. We say hi to Miss Jackie and Miss Nancy—our local crossing guards. We wave at construction workers and street crews. And we always stop to admire puppies and squirrels.⁣
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As we walk, Toby squeals with delight and sits enraptured. Me? I breathe. I think. I pray. But mostly, I rest.⁣
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Yes, my body is moving. But my soul is resting. It’s not writing or cleaning or cooking. It’s not anxious about keeping Toby alive or thwarting his latest act of destruction. It’s just being. It’s free.⁣
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I haven’t lost a pound these 4 months. But I don’t mind. Because in the hour we walk, I lose something better. I lose the weight of my worries and fears. I leave them behind at the house, with the work, the laundry, and the mess.⁣
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When we get home, I’m no less exhausted, no less busy. But I’m always saner. And grateful. These walks have become my joy again, worth every dollar I spent on cold weather gear and every ounce of effort it took to make walking a habit once more.⁣
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Why am I sharing this? Maybe because someone needs to know that being able to move our bodies is a gift. Or that weight loss is not the greatest benefit of exercise. Or that winter is warmer when you spend some of it outdoors. Or, most of all, that the best rest for a mama of a busy baby can be found on a walk. Or maybe even all of it. Like I did.
Instagram post 2180894609940282310_7084101164 How did you discern adoption? So many of you ask me that question, and I never know how to answer. Because the truth is, we didn’t. What Chris and I discerned was marriage. We discerned that God was calling us to give ourselves to each other and let our love bear fruit. Our yes to each other was our yes to life.⁣
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Then, after we gave that yes, we threw open every window and door we could, to let in all the life God wanted to give. We bought a home where we could welcome both children and friends. We trusted God with our fertility, keeping every act of love open to life and doing what Catholics can to help the process along. And, as soon as our house no longer looked like it had survived a nuclear winter, we started looking into adoption.⁣
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And that’s when we were offered the chance to adopt Toby. We had no home study, no agency, no profile, and no money. But there was a baby who needed a home, who needed love, who needed us. So, we said yes, trusting God to take care of the rest. He did.⁣
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We didn’t overthink any of it, though. Did I want to be pregnant? Yes. That was the plan. But it wasn’t our goal. Our goal was answering God’s call to be open to life. We wanted to welcome children into our home, however we could: through our bodies, through adoption, or simply through visits from family and friends. Really, the goal was just to love—to let our love for each other spill over into the world and bear fruit.⁣
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Adoption was how it ended up happening. It’s the window God chose to use.  It may be the window He uses again. After losing Toby’s sibling at 16 weeks this past October, we’re starting the adoption process once more. But our goal remains the same regardless of what happens next year: openness to life, welcoming children, bearing fruit in love. ⁣
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If adoption is tugging on your heart, the best advice I can give is don’t overthink it (and don’t read too much on the Internet!). Talk to friends who’ve adopted. If you have friends who are adopted, talk to them, too. Then, just open a window. See what God does. You’ve already said yes to life. Opening the window to adoption is just another way of letting God take you up on that yes.
Instagram post 2179871122094711736_7084101164 🎁🎁🎁 Giveaway Closed! Confession: I almost didn’t participate in this year’s @adventbookbasket, because I’d kind of like to enter myself for a chance to win the haul. I have some serious catching up to do in the Christmas book department for Toby, and this is the perfect chance to do that. But, it’s better to give than receive, so...⁣
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I’m teaming up with a fabulous group of ladies to give ONE FAMILY the opportunity to receive *OVER 28 BOOKS* for their very own Advent Book Basket!!📚📚📚 With a title for every day of the season, this Advent Book Basket makes a perfect literary Advent Calendar.⁣ ⁣
TO ENTER:⁣
1. Hop on over to @adventbookbasket.⁣
2. Follow ALL the accounts @adventbookbasket follows.⁣
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BONUS ENTRIES:⁣
* Tag 3+ friends in separate comments or share this post in your stories & tag @adventbookbasket.⁣
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The  winner will be drawn on Thursday Nov. 21st, the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lady. 💙⁣
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••• This is in no way affiliated with IG. Must be 18+ to enter. Shipping only in the continental USA. •••⁣
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#adventbookbasket2019
Instagram post 2176313192510501066_7084101164 This was us on our wedding day, kneeling before St. Joseph, while the schola chanted the Litany of Saints. We invoked all our favorites that day, asking them to make our marriage fruitful and holy.⁣
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We thought then that we knew what that meant: a baby quickly in my belly, clever pregnancy announcements, baby showers, and then, as fast as possible, another baby in my belly, and maybe another.⁣
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But, there never was 1, let alone 3, babies in my belly. So, no pregnancy announcements or baby showers either. And I resented God for that. I thought He wasn't loving me. I thought He didn't care.⁣
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I’d gotten it wrong from the start, though. My marriage to Chris wasn't about God saying yes to our plans. It wasn't Him endorsing our idea for what fruitful and holy looked like. It was us saying yes to His plans. It was us handing Him the reins to our family. He knew the direction we needed to go. He knew what we most needed. And it wasn't a baby in my belly. It was a baby named Toby, who grew in another woman's body, but couldn't grow up in her arms.⁣
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This is marriage for all of us, though. Not just the infertile. We bring our tightly held plans to church with us on our wedding day, and as soon as the day ends, God starts prying our fingers off those plans. How He does that looks different for every couple, but if you give your life to God, it's inevitable.⁣⁣
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I say this, first, for those grieving their dashed expectations for marriage and family life. Don't believe the lie that God loves you less, just because it hasn't gone according to plan. God is always loving you perfectly, even when it doesn't feel like it.⁣
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Second, for those grieving their empty wombs who don’t want to consider adoption because it feels like settling for Plan B. There are no Plan B's with God. Only unrecognized Plan A's. He is outside of time. He knows all and accounts for all from the start.⁣
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Toby was always God's Plan A for us. It just took infertility to show us that. Without it, we wouldn't have moved forward when and how we did—the when and how that led to Toby. So, trust, walk, and see where God leads. It may or may not be adoption. But wherever it is, it will be Plan A.⁣⁣
Instagram post 2172840861482084561_7084101164 Hi, I’m Emily, and this is a picture of me from a few years ago, back when I used to wear pretty dresses, charm small children, meet writing deadlines, throw fancy parties, and shower.⁣
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That season was lovely. It was blessed. But I prefer this season. The one where I’m still wearing a ball cap at 1 pm. The one where I just got off an important work call during which my 15-month-old son had explosive diarrhea and covered us both in poop. And the one where I should be working on the talk I’m prepping to give tomorrow in front of almost 1,000 women, but instead am holding my sleeping baby. I waited 43 years to be the mom covered in poop, and I still think it’s pretty glorious.⁣⁣
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The talk for tomorrow is about St. Catherine of Siena and St. Hildegard of Bingen and what they have to say to a suffering Church. They were amazing women who did amazing things. But I know they didn’t feel amazing. They struggled. They hurt. They felt insufficient for the work to which God called them. I take so much comfort in that. ⁣⁣
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Someone described me today as “bad-ass.” Maybe, from the outside, I seem that way. But I don’t feel bad-ass. Mostly, I feel tired. My deepest desire in life, besides becoming a saint, is to sleep until I wake up, with no 4 am alarm. And to win the lottery. Maybe Catherine and Hildegard felt that way, too. Maybe they didn’t want to go trotting off to Avignon or reprimand anti-popes. Maybe they just wanted to kick back, drink a martini (gin, always gin), and re-watch The Crown, because Alex Jennings is the best character actor on television. Or maybe that’s just me.⁣⁣
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Either way, Hildegard and Catherine bring me a lot of comfort. They remind me that no matter how tired or weak or ill-equipped we feel, God can do amazing things through us, if we just say yes. Or alternately, if we’re just too tired to say no.⁣⁣
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If you’re on the Too Tired to Say No track to heaven, too, please introduce yourself! I’ll offer up some of my exhaustion for you, and maybe you could offer up a bit of yours for me!⁣⁣
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#fridayintroduction #catholicmom #adoptivemom #workfromhomemom #catholicwriter #thecatholicwoman #bissisterhood
Instagram post 2169834586858967914_7084101164 Not long ago, I overheard a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear. A young man and woman were discussing a pregnant friend who was considering adoption. The friends were horrified adoption was on the table.⁣
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“It would be so much better to abort,” said one. “Why do that to the child?”⁣
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“Exactly,” agreed the other. “We put dogs out of their misery. Shouldn’t we do the same for children?”⁣
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I wanted to walk over and hold my baby up before them—my bright, laughing, curly-haired baby, who hums and dances and grabs my hair with both fists so he can pull my face close for a kiss. I wanted them to see Toby, look me in the eye, and compare him to a dog. I wanted them to have the audacity to tell me to my face that Toby would be better off dead.⁣
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But I said nothing. I just said a prayer for them and every person who thinks like them.⁣
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But here, now, at the start of #AdoptionAwarenessMonth, I will say this.⁣
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Adoption is complicated. So is life.⁣
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Adoption is messy. So are relationships.⁣
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Some adoption stories end badly. So do many other stories.⁣
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Adoption begins in brokenness. So does the history of salvation.⁣
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Adoption can leave lasting wounds. So can living and breathing on this planet.⁣
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Adoption only exists because we live in a fallen world. So too, for that same reason, does the Church exist. And baptism. And every other sacrament by which God gives us life.⁣
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And that is not a coincidence.⁣
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No matter how imperfect adoption may be, adoption is still beautiful and good because adoption is holy. It is a type of sacrament. It makes visible the reality by which God makes us His own. We are His not by nature, but by adoption. And every single human adoption is a sacred sign pointing us back to divine adoption.⁣
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And all theology aside, adoption doesn’t just save lives. It gives life. It gives life to mothers and fathers, brother and sisters, grandparents and friends. It brings joy, love, laughter, and grace into homes and families and worlds. Adoption is a blessing, and one for which I can never thank God enough. My baby exists because a woman chose this for him instead of an abortion. And his existence isn’t a good thing. It is a glorious thing.
Instagram post 2167687721350605659_7084101164 On days like today, when I’m drowning in work and worries, it’s easy to feel angry with God. Because this day isn’t what I wanted it to be. I dreamed I’d dress Toby like John Paul II and head to a party filled with Dominics, Teresas, and Maximillian Kolbes. I hoped I’d have a tenderloin in the fridge and cocktail mixings on the counter, ready to welcome friends. At the very least I wanted a bag of candy downstairs and pictures of Toby, dressed as a puppy, to show off online.⁣
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But no. Instead, I’m preparing four different talks to give in a week’s time. My stomach is in knots over my backlog of work, and I’m praying one check doesn’t get cashed before another arrives. I’m also mourning the baby who never was ours and fearing that’s a good thing, because even with me working as frantically as I am, how would we ever have afforded to adopt her. I don’t even have a stupid bag of candy to cheer me up since our wussy borough cancelled Halloween due to wind.🙄⁣
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I want to say to God, “What kind of All Saints Day is this? Surely you can do better? Why are you handing out new babies and candy and fabulous parties to everyone but me?”⁣
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But then I look down at the baby sleeping in my lap, the one who just wrapped his arms around my neck and wouldn’t let go, and I see the gift that I did get. I also remember the words of the talk I was writing this morning, the words about holiness and suffering and how two women named Catherine and Hildegard became saints. It wasn’t by living the life they chose to live. It was by living the life God asked them to live. ⁣
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And now, although I still want to be mad at God, I can’t. Because I know we don’t get to become the saint we want to be. We only get to become the saint God calls us to be. We get to become the saint the world need us to be. And we do that by dying to ourselves and saying yes to God in the midst of our daily mess, in the midst of worries and deadlines and dashed expectations.⁣
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We say we want sainthood, but we want sainthood to come easy. It doesn’t. It comes only by way of the cross. So, that, I guess, is how I’m celebrating All Saints Day: by carrying my cross. Not fun. But fitting. And, I hope, effective.
Instagram post 2166135086848010148_7084101164 “Where are you going, my baby, my own?”⁣
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#15months #crawling #climbing #standing #cruising #pushing #pointing #humming #singing #sleeping #destroying #butnotwalking #whichwearefinewith #norush #norushatall #onemoreplease
Instagram post 2165400188642322957_7084101164 Catherine of Siena is on my mind these days. But not really Catherine. More the people who surrounded her. Those who didn't bear the stigmata or have visions. The ones who weren't tasked with bringing back a cowardly pope from Avignon. Just the ordinary faithful Catholics of the 14th century Siennese peasant variety. ⁣
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They're the ones on my mind, because I'm not like Catherine; I'm like them. And as I try to cope with the crazy in the Church today, I'm marveling at how they coped with the crazy in the Church in their day—how they dealt with a papacy populated by weak sinful men, with cardinals who kept lovers,  and with shepherds who dressed in velvet while plague, pirates, and hunger attacked their sheep.⁣
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Catherine's followers had a reverent disdain for those prelates. They respected the office, but not the men. They both obeyed their shepherds and ignored them. Even as schism followed scandal, and scandal followed schism, they washed their dishes, baked their bread, and said their prayers. They went to Mass, kept the fasts, and celebrated the feasts. They fed the hungry, nursed the lepers, and lit candles in dark holy places. ⁣
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In short, they fixed their eyes not on men, but on Jesus, trusting He would remain true to His word: the gates of hell would not prevail. ⁣
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And they didn’t. Catherine did her job. Her friends did theirs. Christ did His. And because of that, here we are, after all these centuries, still believing and praying and receiving grace through the fruit of the vine and the work of human hands. ⁣
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So, I'm doing the same. I’m doing my job. I'm loving my husband, kissing my baby, and serving my God. I'm digging my roots deep in Scripture, Tradition, and the writing of the saints, then handing on what I receive. I'm cultivating charity instead of outrage, wonder instead of cynicism, gratitude instead of bitterness. And while I'm praying for my pope, my bishop, and my priests, I'm not focusing on them. I'm not letting them distract me. I’m focusing on Jesus, doubling down on what He asked me to do. And, like a 14th century Siennese peasant, I'm ignoring the rest.
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#catholic #holiness #Jesus #trust #gatesofhell #catholicmom #catholicwriter
Instagram post 2162499839019218227_7084101164 GIVEAWAY CLOSED: @merrypage wins! Today’s @beautycounter giveaway won’t save your soul, but it will save your skin. I’ll explain. 😁⁣
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I’ve never been what anyone would call a beauty, but God did bless me with great skin. Strangers would stop me on streets to praise it. And throughout my 30s, it stayed beautiful. Naively, I thought that wouldn’t change, that good genes and sunscreen would carry me gracefully into old age. ⁣
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Then, came my 40s…and the renovation from hell, infertility, a crazy adoption, and 5 surgeries—all in under 2 years. Those 2 years did to my skin what decades didn’t. I was shocked. And I wish I were holy enough to be cool with people thinking I’m my son’s grandma, but I’m not. #vanity⁣
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Last year, I started trying every anti-aging product I could afford. Nothing worked. My dermatologist urged me to use a retinol, but we’re still hoping for a baby so Retinols are a big No. I felt out of options. Then, my friend @stephanieweinert sent me @beautycounter’s new CounterTime regimen. ⁣
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Like all their products, it’s free of dangerous chemicals, but this line in particular uses a plant-derived complex that mimics Retinol (without harsh side effects), so it’s especially great for dry, acne-prone, or aging skin. ⁣
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And ladies, it works. I noticed changes in hydration and tone after 4 days. After 6 weeks, my skin’s chronic dryness is gone. It’s also firmer, plumper, and brighter. It’s like the past 3 years are being erased from my face. ⁣
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This is by far the best skin care I’ve used. And although it ain’t cheap, you only use a tiny bit each day, so most of the line should last 6 months or more.⁣
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This weekend, Stephanie and I are giving away 1 full-sized CounterTime UltraRenewal Eye Cream—a $69 value. If you want to sample or buy today, though, reach out to Stephanie. BeautyCounter is running a flash sale, Friday only, offering 10% off everything, including CounterTime, which never happens.⁣
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How to enter:⁣
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1.	Like this post⁣
2.	Follow @stephanieweinert and @emilystimpsonchapman⁣
3.	Tag a friend below ⁣
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Giveaway ends Monday, Oct. 28, at 9 am EST and is not affiliated with Instagram. Winner will be chosen and announced Monday.
Instagram post 2161866747350983948_7084101164 No, he didn’t fall asleep on his own. And no, he doesn’t always nap in his crib. God willing, there will be time for that.⁣ For now, he still goes to sleep on me. In my arms. Nestled against my chest. Some days, he stays there. He won’t be put down.⁣
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On those days, which are many, I have to let go of the showering, writing, and cleaning, so I can hold this child close and rock him in the dark. Some days that letting go feels impossibly hard. Other days, it comes easy. Especially when I remember that this time of feeling his warmth and weight against me is a season. And the season is quickly passing.⁣
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Not every mother has the time, freedom, or patience to do this. But, by God’s providence, I do. No boss can demand I get back to my computer. No other children call me to them. Here, now, it’s just him and me. Which is maybe one of the reasons God entrusted this particular little man to me, one who endured so much in the womb and then left it for a stranger’s arms. ⁣
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In these quiet hours, our bodies have grown familiar to each other. They’ve learned to belong to one another. Time has done what nature didn’t, making us each the other’s own. ⁣
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I worry so much about not being here for him—about accidents or illness or age taking me too soon. I worry too about the struggles he’ll face, ones I can’t fix with a hug. But these hours help. I know, in this hidden space, I’m doing my most important work—more important than writing or speaking or anything else the world sees me do. I’m pouring love into a little soul. I’m making him feel safe, secure, at home, both in my arms and in the world. ⁣
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In a sense, I’m making love deposits, filling my boy’s heart with my love so, when I’m not here and the world demands withdrawals, he won’t go broke; rich wells of love will abide deep in his soul, enough love to sustain him and enough love to give away to everyone he meets. ⁣
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I know I can’t fill him that full of love on my own. That’s God’s job. But here, in this room, I’m doing my part, starting what God can finish. This is my most important job. It’s the job for which I spent decades praying. Everything else can wait.
Instagram post 2161150582886526275_7084101164 Chris, last night, after perusing his new Instagram account: “So, Instagram is pretty much women posting pictures and talking about how hard but beautiful life is?”⁣
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Me: “No, that’s just Catholic Instagram. Secular Instagram is beautiful blonde women telling you how amazing their life is because of XYZ, so swipe up.”⁣ 😂😂😂⁣
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Also, Chris last night: “The most useless phrase in the English language is ‘Toby, no!’”⁣
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Me: “Truth.”⁣
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📸 @caitlinrennphotography #randomstories #sageobservations #smarthusband #catholicinstagram #tobythetornado #lovemyboys
Instagram post 2160309846972790483_7084101164 Giveaway closed! @alzelley is the winner!Words can't express what I owe to St. John Paul II. This morning I was trying to imagine who I would be and what my life would be like without him—without his witness, his wisdom, and his writing—and I couldn't. It was simply impossible. There is no corner of my existence that he hasn't touched. The way I think, the way I pray, the way I write, the way I talk, the way I dress, the way I eat, the way I engage with others, even the way I use social media—all of it has been shaped by him. My good days are good, in part, because of what he taught me. And my bad days are always just a little bit brighter because of the same. ⁣
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He is the first pope I can remember, and if I make it to heaven, throwing my arms around my papa and thanking him in person, will be one of the first things I do. I love him and miss him and on this, his feast day, I want to do a little something to celebrate him. ⁣
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So, tag a friend who loves John Paul II in the comments and share with us here something about how he has touched your life—a memory, a teaching, a book, an encyclical, really anything. I’ll pick one person from the comments and send them the two of my books that were most inspired by his teaching: “These Beautiful Bones: An Everyday Theology of the Body” and “The Catholic Table: Finding Joy Where Food and Faith Meet.” ⁣
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(Winner must live in the continental U.S. and respond to notification of winning within 24 hours; Giveaway closes October 23 at 9:00 am EST; This giveaway is not affiliated with Instagram in any way; yada yada yada).⁣
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#darkasnightoutthismorning #hopeyouarenothereforthepictures #catholicgiveaway #johnpaulii #jp2 #theologyofthebody #tob #catholicfeastday ⁣
Instagram post 2159903415844991676_7084101164 If you’re exhausted, I’m with you.⁣⁣
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If you’re overwhelmed, I’m with you.⁣⁣
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If you’re grieving someone you’ve lost, I’m with you.⁣⁣
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If you’re worried about someone you love, I’m with you.⁣⁣
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If you’re afraid you’re doing something important all wrong, I’m with you.⁣⁣
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If you’re not sure what God is doing, I’m with you.⁣⁣
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If you’ve made decisions you regret, I’m with you.⁣⁣
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If you’re drowning in details and so behind on life you fear you’ll never catch up, I’m with you.⁣⁣
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If you want to wake up tomorrow and find you’ve won the lottery or maybe even just a trip to Provence, I’m with you.⁣⁣
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In all of it. I’m with you. I’m there. I’m going through it all, too. And so are millions of others. Probably billions of others. You’re not alone in this. You’re not the only one struggling through this valley of tears. Life is beautiful, but it’s also hard. It always will be. No one’s life is a series of perfectly curated Instagram moments. It’s a series of crosses shot through with glimpses of joy. We live in the tension between. And both—both the crosses and the joy—are pointing us home, reminding us of the place for which we were made, reminding us of the One for whom we were made. There, with Him, is the only place we can live a life free from sorrow and suffering and stress. There, with Him, is the only place we’ll truly belong.⁣⁣
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But the journey is long, and most of us still have so far to travel. So say a prayer for me, please, and I’ll say a prayer for you, and hopefully those prayers will make our steps just a little bit surer and the road just a little bit smoother, and before you know it, we’ll all be there together. At last.⁣
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#homewardbound #pilgrimchurch #thejourneyhome #catholic #catholicmom #friendsforthejourney #prayforeachother
Instagram post 2156134305268354552_7084101164 Can we talk about adult faith formation? Yes, there are at least 576 more exciting topics to chat about—like the woolen long underwear arriving at my house tomorrow. But, as exciting as that long underwear is (it really is!), faith formation matters more. ⁣
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Once upon a time, busy lay Catholics didn’t have to sit down with a book by Aquinas to know their Faith. All they needed to do was breathe. The Faith was the very air. It spilled out of churches into streets, schools, homes, and even kitchens, forming a culture that, in turn, formed a people. And while people still sinned aplenty, they sinned as Catholics. It was almost impossible to think, see, or sin any other way. ⁣
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Not so now. The air we breathe isn’t Catholic anymore. Even some Catholic parishes and schools aren’t Catholic anymore. They’re imbued with a different gospel, so it takes work to see the world rightly. It takes work to know the Faith.⁣
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Instagram can be a great tool for calling us to deeper conversion and encouraging us in our walk. But it’s not enough. We have to look beyond these squares to know more about what we believe and why. We have to find the time–even just five minutes a day—to grow in our understanding of the Word and His Church. ⁣
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That can feel impossible. I get it. I’m drowning in deadlines and working full time to keep a certain toddler from plunging down the stairs, into a stained glass window. But I also know the payoff is worth it. If we don’t know our Faith, we can’t know or proclaim Jesus. We can only know and proclaim our idea of Jesus—a Jesus usually remade in our own image. That Jesus can’t save us or comfort us. He can’t save or comfort anyone. He might make us feel good, but he’ll be a faithless friend in the end. ⁣
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There is one Jesus, and he calls us to be conformed not to the world, but to him. That’s not a once and done thing. It’s an ongoing process of conversion requiring prayer, grace, suffering, and study. Don’t neglect any part. There’s always more to learn. Make time for that more in the midst of the chaos. It will help you survive the chaos…and even find joy in it. (P.S. Sharing favorite formation resources later in Stories).
Instagram post 2154582128918327427_7084101164 Apropos of absolutely nothing that will save your soul, but might save a bit of your peace, I’ve noticed that, lately, several of my favorite design accounts (@inhonorofdesign @whiteshantyathome @chrislovesjulia ) have been featuring vintage oil paintings on their walls.. This works for me, as I’ve been hanging oil paintings inherited from my grandparents on the walls of every apartment and house I’ve lived in since college. They weren’t trendy or valuable, but I thought them beautiful, so up they went. Now, suddenly, I’m all on trend. 🤷‍♀️⁣
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Something similar happened in 2006, when I ripped out the upper cabinets in my old kitchen. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I liked how the kitchen looked and functioned without them, so I didn’t really care what everyone else thought. Ten years later, when we went to renovate this kitchen, open shelving had become all the rage, and my decision to once more forego upper cabinets seemed super trendy. But it wasn’t. It was just me doing what works for me.⁣
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All of which is to say, design trends come and go. They’re fun in good measure. But don’t worry too much about them. Fill your house with things that make you happy, things that reflect what you love, what you believe, and what you think beautiful. Decorate for you and your family, not for Instagram. Over the long haul, it will save you time and money. You’ll also love your house longer, because it will reflect you, not the hot design influencer of the moment.⁣
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Either way, with how fast the design world is cycling through trends right now, what you love will be the next big thing soon enough. And then you can just say you were a trendsetter!⁣
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#thecatholichome #theologyofhome #theologyofthebody #hawthornehouserenovation  #catholicmom #thecatholicwoman
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