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This gorgeous, peaceful, unfailingly pleasant girl This gorgeous, peaceful, unfailingly pleasant girl-child is eight-months-old today. This makes her just a few days shy of the exact age Becket was when our family piled into a rented camping van and raced across windy plains, deserts of salt, and mountains covered in snow to get to her.⁣ ⁣ At the time, I had no idea how we would manage two babies at once. But manage we did. And here we are, eight months later, feeling like it’s the most normal thing in the world to have two babies, eight months apart, and completely incapable of imagining life without Ellie. Or Becket. Or Toby. Was there really a life without all three of them?⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ Anyhow, no big, important, deep thoughts today. Just this one little reminder: Whatever it is you’re worried about right now? Whatever God is asking you to do that seems crazy, impossible, or both? It very well might be crazy. Or at least seemingly so. But it won’t be impossible. Because nothing is impossible for God. Whatever He calls you to do, He will give you the grace to do. He knows what He is about. There is not a lot you can count in this life. But you can count on that.
I polished the silver. Well, technically, my frien I polished the silver. Well, technically, my friend’s daughter polished the silver, while I made pumpkin bread, sweet potatoes, and cheesecake. But the silver is polished just the same.⁣ Tonight, I’ll iron the linens, and tomorrow afternoon, while babies sleep, I’ll set the table with my finest china, prettiest crystal, and all that gorgeous polished silver.⁣ ⁣ I’m not doing this for Instagram. I’m not doing it to impress anyone. Nor am I doing it because I think I have to do it. I’m doing it because I want to do it.⁣ ⁣ I want to give my family and our guests my very best. I want to bless everyone around my table with something beautiful. I want tomorrow to look extraordinary, because this life I’m giving thanks for is extraordinary. I believe the visible world reveals invisible truths, so I want my table to incarnate the superabundance of grace that has been poured out on my family this past year. I want all the beauty and grace of 2021 take physical shape in silver, china, and a magnificent feast.⁣ ⁣ You, of course, don’t have to do this. If life is just too much right now and you can’t bring yourself to cook a big meal or set a beautiful table or do it with a spirit of joy and charity, you actually shouldn’t do it. A pretty table or excellent feast is not worth your peace and the peace of your family.⁣ ⁣ But I can do it. I want to do it. To not do it would be me giving up. It would be me giving up on what brings me joy. It would be me giving up on doing what I can to bring beauty and glory to my corner of a dark, broken world. It would also be me giving in to a culture that prioritizes convenience over effort, ease over sacrifice, efficiency over craftsmanship, and quantity over quality.⁣ ⁣ In short, me not polishing the silver would be me either dying or despairing. And I’m not ready to do either.⁣ ⁣ That damned stupid 🦠 has taken so much from me these past 18 months. It’s taken so much from all of us. But this year, it’s not going to get my Thanksgiving. It not going to get my joy. It’s not going to get my silver.⁣⁣
Pain can isolate us. Suffering can turn us in on o Pain can isolate us. Suffering can turn us in on ourselves. Heartbreak can leave us feeling alone, disconnected, and misunderstood.⁣ ⁣ Or, it can do the opposite.⁣ ⁣ Pain can connect us. Suffering can draw us out of ourselves. Heartbreak can remind us that we are not alone, that our hurt doesn’t make us special; it makes us human. It is what binds us to men and women of every nation, class, and time.⁣ ⁣ As James Baldwin wrote, “You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was Dostoevsky and Dickens who taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, or who ever had been alive.”⁣ ⁣ God doesn’t want us to suffer. We weren’t made to suffer. But our first parents broke the world, and if they hadn’t, we would have, so suffer we do. In a broken world, filled with broken people, we’ll all hurt. We’ll all grieve. We’ll all walk through a long, dark night, filled with confusion and pain.⁣ ⁣ But we get to choose how we walk.⁣ ⁣ We can walk alone—bitter, angry, resentful, and full of pity for ourselves.⁣ ⁣ Or can we can walk with others, learning compassion, empathy, solidarity, and charity as we go. We can discover ourselves in people who look nothing like us. We can find solidarity with those whose lives are nothing like our own. We can practice patience, exercise forgiveness, grant mercy. We can identify not with our suffering, but with the suffering Christ. We can give our hurt to Him, and let Him use it to complete His work with the world.⁣ ⁣ Figuring out how to suffer that way is not simple. It takes time. It takes grace. It takes wisdom. It takes people walking ahead of you, showing you how, and people walking beside you, cheering you on. It usually involves a lot of struggle, a lot of failure, a lot of questioning and yelling and staring at the Man hanging on a cross.⁣ ⁣ But keep staring. Keep struggling. Because that’s what will give power to your suffering, power to your story, power to your voice. Not that you suffer. But how you suffer—with love. With Christ.
This past summer, my friend Father Dave Pivonka an This past summer, my friend Father Dave Pivonka and I hung out for a few days at my house…with four cameras around…and talked about prayer, motherhood, the Church, trust, suffering, injustice, human dignity, and a whole lot more. This Thanksgiving, you get to be a part of that conversation. The 8-part series on my nearest book, Letters to Myself from the End of the World, will be available through The Wild Goose online. It would make for a great companion to a group book study or for a personal Advent reflection. Each episode is about 30 minutes long. Also, how cute are my kids?! (Little newborn Ellie!!!!)
One of the silliest things I’ve heard people say One of the silliest things I’ve heard people say about adoption (and I’ve heard lots of silly things) is that you should not adopt because you want to be a mother.⁣ ⁣ Friends, that is nuts. Yes, it’s essential to remember that adoption is about finding homes for babies who need them, not finding babies for couples who want them.⁣ ⁣ But, BUT, do not even think about adoption if you DON’T want to be a mother. Wanting to be a mother is the baseline desire for adoption. It is fundamental. It’s necessary. It’s normal.⁣ ⁣ At the same time, you also should be clear about what it means to be a mother.⁣ ⁣ Being a mother is not about doing what society expects of you. It’s not about checking off a box on a bucket list of life goals. It’s not about fitting in with the other women in the neighborhood or at church. It’s not about guaranteeing that there will always be someone around who loves you. It’s not about filling some empty space inside of you.⁣ ⁣ Motherhood is not really about you at all. It’s about your child.⁣ ⁣ It’s about loving and nourishing and nurturing a unique human soul.⁣ ⁣ It’s about laying a foundation—a foundation of security, safety, acceptance, and belonging—upon which your child can build their life and themselves.⁣ ⁣ It’s about giving another person the tools they need to work through all the hurt, all the questions, and all the loss they will experience as they grow.⁣ ⁣ It’s about forming that person in faith, wisdom and virtue—helping them to know Truth, love Truth, and choose Truth.⁣ ⁣ It’s about sacrifice, self-denial, and self-control. It’s about stretching, growing, and changing. It’s about giving, praying, and surrendering. It’s about loving faithfully even when the one you love pushes you away.⁣ ⁣ And yes, it’s also about cuddling, dancing, hugging, kissing, and a whole lot of laughing.⁣ ⁣ Motherhood is beautiful. Motherhood is joyful. Motherhood is hard. Motherhood is motherhood, whether it’s adoptive or not. And if that’s what you want to do, you absolutely should consider adoption. Because a mother who can do all that is what every child needs.
I used to trust easily. Not anymore. Over the past I used to trust easily. Not anymore. Over the past couple of years, I’ve become a lot more cynical, so much so that the other day, a friend asked me who I still trust. I jokingly said, Jesus, my husband, and Beautycounter.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ She laughed and the conversation moved on. It was, again, a joke. But, I’m repeating that joke here, because I want you to know that when I recommend Beautycounter products, it’s a real recommendation.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ Obviously, I don’t trust Beautycounter like I trust Jesus. Ain’t no skin care line gonna save my soul.⁣ Also obviously, I don’t trust Beautycounter like I trust Chris. Makeup will not love me until death to us part.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ So, what do I trust about Beautycounter?⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ I trust that the products will do no harm. When the company says it bans 1800 ingredients that have been linked to cancer, infertility, birth defects and more, I believe them. When the company says it carefully monitors its manufacturing process, to make sure its strict standards are adhered to, I believe them. When the company says it takes seriously its obligation to be a good steward of the environment, I believe them.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ I also trust that their products work. I trust that they do what Beautycounter says they will do. At 46, those products help my skin to look its very best. They help me to look my very best. I am happy to look every day of my age. My 46 years have been a gift. But I also want 46 to look as beautiful as it feels. Beautycounter helps make that possible.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ I was a Beautycounter customer for three years before I became a consultant. I love this company for the opportunities and support, it’s given me. But most of all, I love it for producing the best makeup and skin care I’ve ever used.⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ If I can help you find makeup and skincare you love, too, please dm me. Black Friday begins today for Beautycounter, and with 20 percent off sitewide, plus free shipping for new customers, this is the best time to try it for the first time. And with 15 percent off and free shipping for everyone else, this is a great time to stock up and try something new. You are worth skincare and makeup you can trust.
The first step in the adoption process is not find The first step in the adoption process is not finding an agency. It’s looking in the mirror. It’s asking yourself the hard questions. Not just about your motivations for adopting, but about yourself. Questions like…⁣ ⁣ Where do you struggle? Do you struggle to express affection, whether physical or verbal? Do you struggle to communicate, to express your needs, your thoughts, your feelings? Are you a people pleaser? Are you passive aggressive? Manipulative? Angry? Defensive? Do you know how to apologize? Do you take the struggles of people around you personally? Are you a person of your word?⁣ ⁣ Also, what wounds do you carry? Have you sought healing in prayer, spiritual direction, or therapy? How healthy was your family growing up? What steps have you taken to break from any unhealthy family dynamics?⁣ ⁣ What about friendships? What is your support system like? Does your family practice hospitality? Are you good at welcoming the stranger or do you live an insular life? Can you model for your child, through other relationships, the beauty of chosen family and the strength of bonds not built on DNA?⁣ ⁣ Lastly, how strong is your marriage? Are you committed to each other? Do you prioritize each other? Do you fight fair? Do you talk through differences or ignore them? Do you have a shared vision of life? Do you pray together? Worship together? Trust each other? Is adoption something you both want?⁣ ⁣ All of us need to ask ourselves these questions. But prospective adoptive parents have a double need for it. You are hoping to bring a child into your home who has experienced some kind of trauma, who has been separated from the only home they’ve ever known, who will have attachment needs and questions about identity, family, and their place in the world that a child born of your body would not have.⁣ ⁣ To be the parent this child needs, you have to be healthy. You have to be whole. You don’t have to be perfect, but you do have to be a mature, secure, functioning adult in a strong, happy marriage, who is capable of doing what’s best for a child even when it’s hard for you. You owe that to the child. And you owe that to any parents who entrust their child to you. ⁣
I don’t normally sell and ship my own books. It I don’t normally sell and ship my own books. It is just more than I can handle. And those of you who have been around here for a while know that I also have a total phobia of the post office. 😬⁣ ⁣ But once a year, because so many of you ask about buying signed copies for Christmas, I face my postal fears and sell some books.⁣ ⁣ This year, though, between three babies and shipping concerns, I’m going to run things a bit differently.⁣ ⁣ For the next five days, until Tuesday, November 16, you can place and pay for your orders via an Order Form in my InstaBio. On the 17th, the order form will come down, I’ll pick up the books from the warehouse, and start signing.⁣ ⁣ I’ll start shipping Thanksgiving week, with the goal of having everything shipped by December 3. For cost and time reasons, shipping will have to be continental U. S. only.⁣ ⁣ So, if you’re interested in buying directly from me this Christmas, click on my Linktree Bio. The books I’ll be selling are: ⁣ ⁣ 1) Letters to Myself from the End of the World (reflections of faith, suffering, the Church, motherhood and more);⁣ ⁣ 2) The Catholic Table (a Catholic theology of food, feasting, fasting, and hospitality—Note: this is NOT my cookbook);⁣ ⁣ 3) These Beautiful Bones (an examination of how the theology of the body can shape every part of our lives, not just our sex lives);⁣ ⁣ 4) Hope to Die (an exploration of the Church’s teaching on the resurrection of the body, co-authored with Scott Hahn);⁣ ⁣ 5) The Catholic Girl’s Survival Guide to the Single Years (pretty much what the title says!)
You cannot surprise God. You can make no decision You cannot surprise God. You can make no decision that throws Him for a loop. Nothing you do will ever send Him scrambling to come up with a new plan for you and your life. Nothing you choose will ever cause Him to throw up His hands in frustration, and shout, “Well, there goes that! Now, what do I do for her?”⁣ ⁣ God has already foreseen it all. Every good choice, every bad choice was known by Him before time began. And He has accounted for it. He has woven it into a plan more perfect than you can fathom. He has gone behind you and ahead of you to work through your every decision and every circumstance to give you a way to Him.⁣ ⁣ Because this is His endgame. This is the point of His plan. It’s what the Church calls God’s Ultimate Will. Not your wealth, health, and happiness in this life. But your everlasting happiness. Your eyes beholding Him, forever, in the next life.⁣ ⁣ This isn’t always easy to believe. Some moments are so very hard. Some parts of the journey are slogs through muck. God permits us to choose things that aren’t good for us. He permits others to do things that wound us to the core. He permits us to carry crosses we think we should not have to carry, crosses, we say, that if we were God, we would never permit.⁣ ⁣ How our darkest hours and deepest regrets can be part of some perfect plan, I don’t know. It’s a mystery my mind can’t fathom. But when I look at God hanging on a cross for love of us, I trust it can. I trust that a God of such mercy would not permit anything, not ask anything that He can’t use. I trust that He is bigger, stronger, wiser, and more loving than me, and will allow no moment of my life to fall outside His perfect plan for my salvation. I may not be able to see it, but somehow, He is making a way for me.⁣ ⁣ He is making a way for you, too. Stay close to Him. When you cannot see the way, kneel at the foot of the cross and bury your face in His holy feet, trusting that He sees what you cannot. Call on His name. Follow His commands. And move forward with confidence, following the peace, and knowing that as long as life with Him is your ultimate will, too, even your most crooked paths will still lead you straight to Him.
There are 1000 hard things about adopting a child. There are 1000 hard things about adopting a child.⁣ ⁣ Choosing a path. Choosing an agency. Finding the money. Doing the paperwork. Dealing with bureaucracy. Learning the language. Learning the ethics. Acting on what you’ve learned. Waiting to be chosen. Not letting your heart or hopes get ahead of the situation. Working through your own brokenness. Healing from your own grief. Supporting the mother. Respecting her freedom, her options, her right to change her mind. Centering the needs of the child, not your own. Not attaching to a baby who isn’t yours until he is yours. Traveling across country on a moment’s notice. Caring for a brand new baby in a strange city far from home. Knowing your joy is made possible by another’s grief. Carrying that grief with you always, every day of your life. Fielding ignorant comments from doctors and nurses. Fielding more ignorant comments from family, friends, and strangers on the street. Doing more paperwork. Stepping out of your comfort zone. Dying to yourself. Upending your life, your schedule, your home, your preconceived notions about how the world works. Answering tough questions as your children grow. Not taking those questions or their struggles personally. Navigating what can be ever changing dynamics with birth families. Helping your children work through issues of identity, family, loss, culture, and grief.⁣ And so much more.⁣ ⁣ The list of what’s hard about adoption goes on and on and on and on. But you know what’s not hard? ⁣ ⁣ Loving the child through it all. Adoring the child. Thinking of the child as utterly and completely your own.⁣ ⁣ That’s the easy part of adoption. It’s the one so many families worry about before they begin the process and forget about the second a child is placed in their arms.⁣ ⁣ That love for a child doesn’t make the hard parts of adoption easy. The hard parts stay hard. But it does make the hard parts worth it. The child makes it worth it. This precious, singular holy image of God makes all the learning, stretching, waiting, worrying, growing, changing, grieving, and navigating totally, completely, without a thought worth it. They are worth it. They deserve nothing less. ⁣ ⁣ None of us do.
National Adoption Awareness month kicked off on No National Adoption Awareness month kicked off on November 1, and I have so many thoughts I’d like to share here on adoption. We’ll see what deadlines and babies permit. But right now, today, I’m just gonna share this picture. Because as fraught with difficulties and complexities as adoption is and can be in this broken world of ours, this right here? The love between these two? The bond between them? It’s beautiful. No. Scratch that. It’s holy. And man, am I blessed to get to see it everyday. #fatherandson #daddysboy #catholicadoption #catholicadoptivefamily 📸 @caitlinrennphotography
I will not even tell you how many pictures and how I will not even tell you how many pictures and how many insane noises it took to get this fireman and his two dogs looking in the same general direction. Because I actually have no idea. I can’t count that high. #happyhalloween #tiredalready #needtogetapictureofBecketstail #itisthebest
We just got our family pictures back from @caitlin We just got our family pictures back from @caitlinrennphotography , and this one is my absolute favorite. I may share it 100 times in the years to come. But I’m sharing it now because this right here is the answer to the question I asked in stories. This is why I feel 66. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. 👵🏻👵🏻👵🏻 #threethreeandunder #oinmyforties #oldmom #handsfull #totallyfull #sofull #justdontsayittomewheniamoutinpublic
16 years ago today, I went on my first date with C 16 years ago today, I went on my first date with Chris. And I knew. Not that we would get married, because none of us knows the future. But that we could get married. I knew he was a man to whom I could entrust myself, body and soul.⁣ ⁣ I didn’t know that because he looked like a J.Crew model. Although, he does.⁣ ⁣ I also didn’t know that because he was Catholic, well read, and intelligent. Although he is.⁣ ⁣ And I didn’t know that because of how perfectly he planned our first date together. Although, he did do that, taking me first to Mass and then on a walking tour of Pittsburgh’s most beautiful old buildings.⁣ ⁣ No, I knew I could marry Chris because he was a good man—kind, gentle, wise, more interested in growing in holiness than talking about it. He also loved old buildings. It was a winning combination.⁣ ⁣ Before (and after) that first date, I went out with a lot of other guys—guys with more impressive job titles, fancier degrees, and bigger bank accounts than Chris. Most were smart, Catholic, and decent enough. But none of them left me with the impression Chris did—an impression of deep, deep goodness…⁣ ⁣ …the kind of goodness that enables a man to draw his wife and children closer to Christ, without ever needing to beat his chest about his role as head of the family;⁣ ⁣ …the kind of goodness that moves a man to change diapers, feed babies, comfort toddlers, wash dishes, sweep floors, and take out the trash, not because he’s been nagged into doing it, but because he considers it his responsibility as a husband and father, called to lead like Jesus did, through acts of humble service.⁣ ⁣ …and the kind of goodness that causes his wife and children to run to him with their every problem and every question, knowing they’ll be met with love, understanding, affection, and true wisdom.⁣ ⁣ Attraction is important. Romance is fun. But goodness is what enables attraction and romance to endure. It’s what helps you to fall in love with your spouse over and over again, as one stage in life ends and another begins. ⁣ ⁣ Wait for the good men, single friends. Wait as long as it takes. The wait is worth it. And you deserve nothing less.
Wearing jeans does not make you less feminine.⁣ Wearing jeans does not make you less feminine.⁣ ⁣ Gaining weight does not make you less feminine.⁣ ⁣ Working outside or inside the home, wearing your hair short, or preferring math to Jane Austen do not, in any way, make you less feminine.⁣ ⁣ Neither does being infertile or single and childless, disliking makeup, lacking cooking skills, or having a strong mind, strong opinions, or strong temperament.⁣ ⁣ Not one of those things detract even a little bit from the beauty and power of your womanly heart. So what does?⁣ ⁣ Vanity. Foolishness. Selfishness. Lust. Greed. Wrath. Jealousy. Envy. Pride.⁣ ⁣ Also, not seeing the dignity of the person standing in front of you…or on the other side of a screen.⁣ Rashly judging others’ hearts and not cultivating compassion. Refusing to defend the vulnerable, provide for the poor, and welcome the stranger.⁣ ⁣ Never controlling your strength nor expressing your opinions with gentleness. Seeking justice without exercising mercy. Telling lies, spreading rumors, and practicing deceit.⁣ ⁣ Refusing to receive: love, help, forgiveness, grace, life.⁣ ⁣ Not listening: to God, the Church, your spouse, children, and those who love and need you.⁣ ⁣ Not prayerfully discerning: your strengths, your weaknesses, where God is calling you to be, and what He is calling you to do.⁣ ⁣ Saying No: to suffering, sacrificing, and dying to yourself for those you love.⁣ ⁣ Seeking to control everyone and everything around you.⁣ ⁣ Focusing so much on yourself that you’re unable to see the needs, struggles, and hurts of others.⁣ ⁣ Faithlessness.⁣ Rejecting Truth.⁣ Rejecting Christ.⁣ ⁣ Skirts are pretty. Baking is good. Jane Austen is brilliant. All can, in their way, reflect the feminine heart and help some of us to cultivate a more feminine heart. But they aren’t the heart of femininity. That is motherhood—sometimes physical, always spiritual, ever welcoming, ever nourishing, ever nurturing, perpetually defending, encouraging, and seeing the particular beauty of all. That motherhood is what our world is dying for. That mother is who God made you to be.⁣ ⁣ And if you want to be her in old jeans and a turtleneck sweater, the Church doesn’t mind at all.
Today, I am thankful for well-worn jeans, comforta Today, I am thankful for well-worn jeans, comfortable boots, and turtleneck sweaters; for cool autumn breezes, grey Pittsburgh skies, and delicious coffee in pretty mugs; for a messy porch, cluttered with strollers, the third load of laundry going, and the music of @michaelkiwanuka drifting outside, through our open front door.⁣ ⁣ I am also grateful for games of tag, piggy back rides, and 3 babies napping at the same time; for pancake breakfasts eaten, apple crisps waiting to be made, and the pumpkin soup we’ll have for dinner; for going nowhere, doing nothing, and seeing no one but the people I call my own.⁣ ⁣ In short, I am grateful—so, so exceedingly grateful—for this, the most ordinary of days in this beautiful, ordinary life for which I hoped and prayed and waited for so long. I know it will be gone as fast as it came, but it’s here now, and there aren’t enough words of thanks for the extraordinary gift of it all.
Double posting today because I thought I couldn’ Double posting today because I thought I couldn’t write a coherent sentence, but then I got the kids down for naps and, after scrolling for 4 seconds here, saw that today was the day Instagram is remembering the babies we lost.⁣ ⁣ Which is only a bit strange as yesterday, one of you in the question box asked me if I still thought about the baby we lost, the baby we hoped to adopt, Toby’s biological sibling, who passed away sometime around 16 weeks in utero. That was 2 years ago this month. And no one ever asks me about her. No one ever. ⁣ ⁣ I don’t usually talk about her either. Mostly because she was never mine. She was always someone else’s. And I never want to minimize the grief of a mother who carried a child by talking about my grief over a baby who I never carried.⁣ ⁣ But I did grieve her. I do grieve her. I loved her from the first second I heard about her and was so blessed to be able to say yes to being her mom…even if that yes never actually had to be said. She was always real to me. She still is. And while I never did get to bring her home, I am so grateful for her. ⁣ ⁣ It’s because of her that Chris and I moved forward on a second adoption. It’s because of her that I came up with the cookbook fundraiser that enabled us to adopt both Becket and Ellie. She, in a way, made it possible for me to become a mother twice more.⁣ ⁣ I hope, someday, I will get to see her and thank her for that. I hope, someday, I will get to hold her in my arms and tell her what a great joy it would have been to be her mother if she had lived. ⁣ ⁣ And I don’t know why I am sharing this here other than to say, “You’re not alone” to other adoptive moms and would-be-adoptive moms who are silently grieving the loss of babies who weren’t theirs. Your loss was real. Your grief is real. And there is nothing wrong with feeling it.⁣ ⁣ You said yes to loving that child and that love cost you something. But that child knows you said yes. They know of your love and they you were ready to love them and their mom forever. And I believe that child is thanking you for that love by praying for you before Christ’s throne. For what it’s worth, I am praying for you, too.
People think my family is beautiful. That’s the People think my family is beautiful. That’s the first thing strangers say to us. We hear it from men and women, young and old, from all cultures, everywhere we go. Those exact words. “Your family is beautiful.”⁣ ⁣ At first, I didn’t know what to think of those words. I felt guilty. Like a fraud. Because I know adoption is born of trauma. I know my babies’ first families grieve their loss. I know adoptive parents are not saints: most are a far cry from it.⁣ And I know, as my children grow, they will⁣ have so many questions— about identity, loss, culture, and more.⁣ ⁣ I also know every law of ethics has been broken by adoption professionals. I know vulnerable women have been pressured, manipulated, and forced to place their babies. I know some still are. And I know adoptive parents, desperate for a child, often willfully ignore that evil.⁣ ⁣ I know adoption is messy and complicated and some experience it as anything but beautiful.⁣ ⁣ Yet, those comments keep coming. Why? Are people just ignorant?⁣ ⁣ I’ve wrestled with that question. And I don’t think ignorance is the answer. I think people see my family as beautiful because it is beautiful. Or, more accurately, because we remind them of truths that are more than beautiful—that are sacred.⁣ ⁣ Like every adoptive family, we are kind of sacrament. We make visible the love of a God who calls us His children, not because we are His by nature, but because we are His by adoption, by grace. We are a walking, talking, laughing, dancing, kissing, hugging, baby chasing reminder of that grace. We also remind people that God calls us to love everyone, not just those who look like us; that in Christ, all are family; and that God can bring joy out of even the most complicated, tragic situations. ⁣ ⁣ And that is beautiful. Even when the reality of adoption in a broken world falls short of the beauty it’s meant to reflect.⁣ ⁣ Our family will fall short, too. We won’t perfectly do what we’re called to do. But we are trying. We’re begging for the grace to be the parents these children need us to be. And what a blessing that is—to get to try, to get to be Mama and Daddy to these little people, who are indeed breathtakingly beautiful.
I didn’t grow up praying the Rosary. I thought t I didn’t grow up praying the Rosary. I thought that was something only old ladies did. That changed when I was 26.⁣ ⁣ One night, very late, I lay in bed, grieving, worrying, and feeling all prayed out. I was desperate for God’s help, but didn’t know what else to say. Then, I spotted my grandma’s prayer book sitting by my bed, with her Rosary next to it. They’d sat there for 7 years, since her death when I was 19. Not until that moment, though, did it occur to me that while I might not have the words to pray, Mary did. She would know just what to say to her Son.⁣ ⁣ So, I picked up the Rosary, thumbed through the book, and started to pray the words written in it. As I did, it felt like Mary took my hand in hers, assuring me all would be well. Eventually, it was.⁣ ⁣ That was in 2001. I suppose I’ve prayed more than 6,500 Rosaries since then. About 1 a day, every day, for 18 years. Some more focused than others. But not a one where some comfort, consolation, or help wasn’t given. Consider last night.⁣ ⁣ I was, for the 3rd night in a row, up in the wee hours with Toby, who was crying in pain. At 3 a.m., it was too soon to give him another dose of medicine, so I lay there, holding his shaking body, again grieving, worrying, and feeling all prayed out. But this time without really even a thought (because 3 a.m.), I started praying the Rosary aloud. He was quiet by the end of the first decade, asleep by the end of the fourth. I prayed the fifth silently, in gratitude, feeling as always like Mary’s hand held my own. But now, also Toby’s.⁣ ⁣ I don’t know what cross you carry today. I don’t know what worries weigh on you or what sorrows afflict you. But I do know this: Mary wants to hold your hand, too.⁣ ⁣ Praying the Rosary may not get you the miracle you seek. It may not even get your baby to sleep. But when you pray those Hail Marys, the Mother of Jesus will be by your side, holding your hand as you hold her beads. And that will be enough to get you through this present sorrow. It will, in fact, be more than enough. She will see to it. * (I wrote this 2 years ago, but I could have written it today. Resharing for the Feast of Our Lady of Rosary.)
Today is the feast of the Archangels, but especial Today is the feast of the Archangels, but especially St. Michael, after whom the day, Michaelmas, was traditionally named. As described in Revelation 12, Michael is the one who cast Lucifer from heaven and does battle with him still. That’s why the Church urges us to call upon him whenever we have to fight Satan and his minions in our own lives.⁣ ⁣ That all sounds very dramatic. And sometimes, it is. Somedays, there are dragons to be slain, outjie boards to be burned, and crystals to be crushed. When that’s the case, Saint Michael is there for it.⁣ ⁣ But most of the time, the work of casting out demons is far more straightforward.⁣ ⁣ It’s telling the truth when we could tell a lie.⁣ ⁣ It’s giving money away when we’d rather hold it close.⁣ ⁣ It’s reading God’s Word when we’d prefer to scroll.⁣ ⁣ It’s praying for our enemies rather than cursing them.⁣ ⁣ It’s apologizing rather than justifying.⁣ ⁣ It’s offering it up rather than complaining.⁣ ⁣ It’s choosing to trust when we want to control.⁣ ⁣ It’s putting the most charitable interpretation we can on another’s words or actions.⁣ ⁣ It’s asking God for the grace to forgive the person we don’t want to forgive.⁣ ⁣ It’s walking away from the argument.⁣ ⁣ It’s worrying more about our sins than our neighbors’ sins.⁣ ⁣ It’s loving people even when we disagree.⁣ ⁣ It’s surrendering our desire to have the last word.⁣ ⁣ It’s avoiding whatever near occasion is our near occasion, the place where Satan quietly trips us up day after day after day after day.⁣ ⁣ It’s all that and a thousand things more, none of which seem terribly dramatic. Yet, every time we struggle against vice and choose virtue instead, the angels rejoice and the demons lament. For Satan’s will has been thwarted. His voice ignored. His plan upended. Those battles in our soul, no matter how small they seem, are real battles. They’re the way Satan fights most of the time.⁣ ⁣ So don’t wait for heads to spin or bodies to levitate before you call on St. Michael. Call on him now, in the ordinary battles of daily life. He’ll be there for that too.
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