Adoption culture

Something I write about far less than I imagined I would is adoption--in spite of the fact that I have four adopted children.  There are probably several reasons why I don't gravitate towards this subject, but one of them is that I don't feel particularly connected to the culture of adoption.

This may sound strange coming from me, especially if you know that some of my closest friends in real life are raising adopted children, and that I have countless Facebook friends who are also adoptive parents.  I've attended assorted adoption-related conferences and seminars over the past several years, and was one of the first people blogging about Ethiopian adoption in particular.

But still, I'm a little bit on the outside.  And that is by choice.

The present-day culture of adoption seems to operate on two opposite spectrums: my-healthy-adopted-baby-will-have-no-issues contingent, and the medical/developmental-needs-are-SO-no-big-deal, so adopt a waiting child camp. 

One group thinks adoption is the best ever because oh my goodness, babies are so sweet, and the other believes everyone ought to be adopting waiting children because any and all issues are completely correctable and workable.

Both sides love to emphasize how we are adopted by Christ, and that this supplies the mandate necessary to embark on the process of making an orphan your child.

Both sides miss the mark, in my opinion.

Because the fact of the matter is that adoption is hard.  I repeat, adoption is hard.  And I don't mean the process, I mean the act of taking a traumatized and hurting human being into your home and incorporating him or her into your family.  I mean the transition period as well as the years to follow, the unending attempts to diagnose behavioral issues and foster attachment and correct for learning disabilities.

It is, ultimately, the long and hard work of love.

That is the crux.  That is why adoption is hard.  Because love is a choice, it is taking the long view, it is borne out in actions and also in silence, it is independent of feelings and it does not follow any one timeline.  It demands sacrifice, self-giving, nurture and structure, and daily reliance upon God.

And adoption in particular tests our character because it illuminates the struggle to put another first, above ourselves.  We must stare brokenness and vulnerability square in the face, our child's face.  We must make decisions and rethink any and all conventional parenting strategies, and in the end accept a new definition of success...while still clinging fiercely to hope.

We must become very small.

This is what, I believe, so much of the adoption culture misses.  To claim a child as one's own, we sign up to enter into a world of pain and sorrow and grief--some of which may never fully be healed this side of Heaven.  This world is often filled too with cognitive impairment, impulsivity, developmental delays, congenital heart defects, Asperger's syndrome, and the like.  These things do not fit neatly into the "cute baby" or "it's no big deal" categories.

For they are, truly, a most very big deal.

But this world is also filled with redemption.  We must take care not to miss the work of Jesus, especially in the small things, because otherwise we will only see the big, hard things.  We must continue setting standards for each of our children, and helping them to reach their potential, in spite of their difficult start in life.

It's no secret that I believe adoptive families ought to be open to waiting children.  I confess that my sympathies do indeed lie more closely with that side of the spectrum.  But we must go in with eyes wide open, and reject the idea that any and all effects from institutionalization or Cerebral Palsy or ADHD will be corrected with just a little time and love.  Some will, in fact, not be.  Because when you raise a child, adopted or biological, it is the work of a lifetime, not a list of milestones to be checked off until the age of 18 when the child disappears into the void.  And many (most?) of our adopted children have essentially sustained brain damage--whether due to undernutrition or trauma.

It is the work of love. 

And love is long-suffering, it perseveres, it forgives and it remains.  It is the very essence of God.

So while I count it a great privilege to talk to people about adoption, and wish for families to think long and hard about whether there might be room in their home and hearts for a child without a family, I also know that once the dust settles, adoption simply becomes the toil and joy of parenting.  It is exhausting and exhilarating, all at once, and will call you into a deeper and more difficult love than you have known.  God has called some of us to this journey and most of us regularly wonder why.  We feel woefully inadequate when it comes to such a humbling and beautiful task.

And yet, we know.

We know that our children would quite literally have nobody else were it not for us.

We know that our children faced abuse of all kinds in their respective orphanages.

We know that our daughter with Down syndrome would have lived a much shorter life were it not for receiving open heart surgery in America two months after joining our family.

We know, first-hand, how very important love is.

We know it is life, and we know it is mercy in action.

We know it is good.

And that is the adoption culture that I believe must be cultivated.  This is the paradigm that is sustainable over time.  It breaks through the unrealistic expectations while standing in awe of the miraculous.  It is filled with hope and beauty while acknowledging hardship and yes, occasional suffering.

It is, in many ways, merely representative of life itself.

And maybe that's part of the gift, this being called by God to participate in adoption.  Maybe He is giving us a unique glimpse into life that we would simply not otherwise have.  Not only are we able to see the world through the eyes of a precious child, but we have a front row seat to healing, raw grief, and the importance and value of belonging.

Several years into adoptive parenting, I am more convinced than ever that we parents receive far more than we could ever give. 

And this is perhaps the best-kept secret of adoption culture.

The Assumption

Today is the feast day of the Assumption of Mary. 

For those who don't know the secret handshake, the Assumption refers to when Mary was assumed, body and soul, into Heaven.  This is an important day in the life of the Catholic Church, and a Holy Day of Obligation, meaning that we attend Mass. 

Anytime a Protestant friend asks what my primary obstacles were to becoming Catholic, Mary inevitably comes up.  Some of the Catholic doctrine on this subject is, for someone generally unfamiliar with it (like I was), difficult.

And yet at the same time, I'm also quick to say that in many ways, the Marian beliefs were a joy for me to embrace.  Because for as long as I can remember, I've been fascinated by the Mother of God...and troubled by the lack of respect paid her in non-Catholic circles. 

Even as a Protestant I found it peculiar that her role in salvation--and in the Christian story--was so very diminished, considering what God chose her to do, and how much attention she received in the New Testament.  I of course came to see that the downplaying of Mary was merely a reaction to what was perceived as problematic Catholic teaching on the subject, and that bothered me. 

Was this really a reason to emphasize her youth, her nobody-ness, her naivete--over her faithfulness and obedience?  Over her Fiat and Magnificat?

Was this really a reason to part ways with the Church Fathers and virtually all early Christians by proposing that she was a wretched sinner like the rest of us?  As opposed to having been Immaculately Conceived?

And why the compulsion to buy into what was declared a heresy by Christians in the fourth century, this idea that she had a non-celibate marriage and as a result, several other children?  Especially in spite of the fact that this belief was not held by Christians anywhere until a heretic, bent on denying Jesus' divinity, proposed this alternate reality? 

Didn't the truth--and respecting the woman chosen by God to carry and bear His Son--matter more than distancing yourself from a faith tradition?

It is clear that over the centuries, Protestants have worked long and hard to make sure that Mary appears to be no different than anyone else, and that nobody in their midst spends too much time thinking about the Blessed Mother, period.  Personally, I believe much of their vested interest (or disinterest) lies in the fact that Mary cannot be divorced from the teachings of the early Christian church, which have been handed down throughout the years and which are now collectively known as Roman Catholicism. 

The Catholic view of Mary is of course a much bigger (and older) picture.  We give her honor, because Jesus honored her.  We love her, because Jesus loved her.  We look to her as our Mother, because Jesus is our brother.  The Church is a family, and it makes perfect, beautiful sense that our spiritual mother would hold a special place in our hearts. 

Truth be told, I love knowing that Mary lives in Heaven and prays for us.  I love thinking about how one day we too will be received into Heaven, as she was on the day she was assumed, and that Jesus wants to receive us too. 

The very idea of celebrating feast days and solemnities is vital for me, in spite of my not experiencing this in its fullness until adulthood.  Following the church calendar is a way to orient our lives around that which truly matters, and to honor saints and events which have gone before us.  As a Protestant I of course observed Good Friday, Easter, and Christmas Day, but now as a Catholic I get to celebrate all manner of holy days.  I feel so much more connected to Christianity throughout the ages, and I love it, in part because it helps bring about perspective and puts me in my proper place.  Ultimately though, observing feast days by attending Mass means that I am entering into worship with the Communion of Saints, those in Heaven and those on earth and those in Purgatory, and the angels too.  Beautiful, yes?

So today we celebrate the Assumption of Mary, and look towards the blessed hope of one day joining Jesus in Heaven as well. 

When they have a new sibling

Someone recently asked how and when we tell our children we're having another baby.  We've actually done different things during different pregnancies, and I certainly don't think there's ever a one-size-fits-all approach when it comes to this issue.  We've had pregnancies where we've told our children right away, and a pregnancy where we've waited until the end of the first trimester.  We've had a pregnancy where we had to tell them that their baby brother or sister died.  So I suppose you could say that we've done it all.

And while there is definitely no "right" way to share such momentous news with a child, we have worked hard to cultivate a culture of life in our home, where new babies are cherished and wanted, and where more life equals more love.  I have never once, for example, had a child disappointed about a new sibling joining the family, by either birth or adoption.  Not once.  Each and every homecoming has included lots of little people with big smiles and open arms (and occasional arguing over who gets to hold the new sibling first.)  I love that I can tell each subsequent child that they were so loved by so many people, from the very beginning.  And the same goes for children of friends--if we know you and you're having a baby, you can count on the Heldt kids being over-the-top excited.

Just yesterday in fact we had the privilege of hosting a dear friend's foster daughter for a couple of hours.  Within minutes of this sweet girl being dropped off, my kids had a blanket spread on the floor with lots of age-appropriate toys all around.  They adore this baby.  They love getting to spend time with her.  They take great pride in making her happy and in singing her songs and would keep her, if they could.

This is something that I hope my children never, ever lose, this being in awe of the gift of life, and the joy of loving the littlest and neediest of beings.  They have not yet internalized the culture's disdain of the weak.  Which is pretty great if I do say so myself.

So, how does one go about cultivating these virtuous attitudes in his or her children?  Here are six things we've found to be helpful in this endeavor.

1.)  Couch the announcement in positive language (and avoid the negative.)  When we announced my current pregnancy, we did not for example tell Mary that she wouldn't be the baby anymore.  We did not discuss the immense sacrifices we'll all have to make or the fact that a new baby will mean less of Mommy's attention to go around.  No, instead, we expressed our own excitement--and thus allowed for our children to be excited too.  We always play up the idea that they get to be big brothers and sisters all over again.  We encouraged little Mary Lu to kiss my belly, and told her were so thrilled for her to step into the role of big sister for the first time.  I truly believe children will follow our lead, so we must take care to lead well.

2.)  Instruct your children in the faith.  This may seem unrelated, but it's not.  We personally subscribe to the historic and traditional Christian belief that sexuality is designed by God for marriage, and that sexuality is meant to be open to life.  Our children understand this as well, because we've told them so.  Not in graphic or overly-detailed terms, but they believe that when one chooses the vocation of marriage, they are also choosing to be open to children.  They know that children are the natural fruit of marriage, and a profound gift from God.  So they believe that family life, as designed by God, includes the occasional arrival of a new child.  And that God calls it good.

3.)  Instill a respect for the least of these, the weak, and the vulnerable.  Children have a natural concern for the well-being of others.  True, they are rather self-centered little creatures, but they also have a strong sense of justice.  Anna was too little when we brought our sons home to voice much of an opinion, but when we adopted Mekdes and Tigist last year, oh my goodness, our children were thrilled.  They found something very unsettling about two little girls growing up in an orphanage, and wanted them home.  With us.  We did discuss the idea that it might take the two newest Heldts a little longer to learn to do things (on account of years of institutionalization and Down syndrome), but nobody cared or gave that much thought.  They know Mekdes isn't able yet to get her own cup of water, so they're happy to do it for her.  They know Tigist needs help with getting out to the car, so they carry her.  We try to teach our children not to look down on the helpless, or to ascribe value to people primarily on the basis of what they can do.  Because dignity runs far deeper than that.

4.)  Avoid voicing discontent over a particular life or developmental phase.  My kids have rarely, if ever, heard me say that I can't wait for everyone to be out of diapers.  Ever.  Not because I'm so selfless that I love changing diapers (I'm not, and I don't!), but because that reality is decades into the future for me.  When you know that you have several years of fertility remaining, you also know that diapers are merely a part of life.  Because children are, simply, helpless.  God knows what He's doing, and what better way to cultivate a tender, servant-like heart than to gift His adult children with needy little ones to care for?  Don't believe the ridiculous lie that some people are just made to do things like wipe bottoms and clean spit-up off the carpet.  Aside from that view being incredibly insulting to those of us in the trenches, it is also preposterous.  Because no one likes those jobs.  And maybe those of us who detest them the most, need them the most.  They are merely part of life, and ultimately?  What an honor to be given the responsibility of caring for a child.  So if we don't want our child seeing their younger sibling as a major inconvenience, we must be careful not to act as if that younger sibling is a major inconvenience to us.

5.)  Be realistic--while encouraging virtue.  No matter how much I want my kids to be excited at the news of a new baby, I don't have super specific expectations.  Kids are, after all, kids.  On the one hand I refuse to tell my children how to feel, and on the other I will not tolerate excessive complaining or disrespect.  And I don't have a problem telling my kids how God wants them to see something.  So far they really have been unanimously happy and welcoming towards new siblings, but that may not always be the case for everyone.  And, that's okay.  Our family however is not run like a democracy, and at some point my kids may simply need to learn that obeying and following after God is not necessarily the easy or convenient road, even as it is the right road.  And no matter how many children are in a family, everyone feels a little left out or misunderstood sometimes.  Big families do not have the market on teenage angst or disappointment.  So it's important to remember that people are people, and it's unrealistic to expect perfection all of the time.  But we can certainly strive for virtue and for having a right heart.

6.)  Get the kids involved.  What school-aged child doesn't love holding a squishy baby?  Or who doesn't feel important and valuable when they're responsible for getting a younger sibling ready for bed?  My older children do a lot of work with the younger ones, and it is something that they have actually come to more or less enjoy.  Not all the time, but enough, and most of all they know that it's just part of life.  They help to look after one another, and while they are by no means parenting (and very much do live a carefree childhood), they are participating in family life in a robust and meaningful way.  I have found that this builds incredible self-esteem and family pride, as well as lifeskills that will be useful in the years to come.

Hopefully this gives at least some small insight into how our family brings new members into its midst.  We are certainly far from perfect, but I am forever in awe of the way that God weaves our lives together, and grows love in the hearts of my children.

And I really kind of love how He uses teeny tiny babies to do it. 

Worth it

This pregnancy has been one of my sickest yet, second only to when I was carrying my first child nine years ago.  Think complete exhaustion and around-the-clock nausea, which is only intensified by the intense Denver heat.  I have more or less been hanging around the house for the past several weeks, sitting ever so still, and eating pickles and taking naps.  And when I do leave the house, I find myself contemplating strategies for what to do if my nausea takes a sudden turn for the worse.

I honestly feel a little bit like my summer has vanished into a pathetic, sickly haze.  Weeks have passed with relatively zero productivity on my part, writing plans have been put on the back burner, and any vestiges of a social life are on hold.  Just getting to Mass on Sunday mornings--our one and only have-to-be-there commitment--feels like a huge effort. 

And I'd be lying if I said I don't occasionally feel the slightest twinge of self-pity from time to time.  It is hard mothering seven children when I scarcely feel well  enough to take a shower.  It is hard preparing meals that I know I won't eat.

And yet here I am, nearly at the end of my first trimester, my pregnancy still going strong.  For this I feel unbelievably grateful!  I have lost two babies over the course of my marriage, and so I do not take my fertility or ability to bring forth a child for granted.  I refuse.  It is a gift, and a profound one at that.

So I try to remind myself of this when I feel somewhat defeated, and disappointed in how my summer has materialized.  There is a soul--a soul!--growing in my womb.  No moment--no matter how sedentary--is wasted, because I am somehow caught up with God in this mystery of the creation of life.

And, God loves life.  And souls.  And love. 

Just yesterday I was reminded of this when some friends and I ventured out to IKEA with our children (fifteen total, but who's counting?).  And a woman at the store took us by surprise when she demonstrated that, well, she didn't like our children.  Not because they were misbehaving or yelling or crying, but simply because they existed.  The very idea that these needy creatures lived and breathed was too much for her, so she angrily (and loudly) informed my friend that we were "nuts", amidst much scoffing and indignation--and all  in spite of my friend's big smile and gentle assurance that we were actually having a nice time. 

It is a terrifying thought to me that someone could be so offended by the mere existence of a soul, and yet isn't that where much of society has positioned themselves?  Disdain, disgust, and fear encapsulate a post-modern view on the fruitfulness of marriage, the natural and beautiful end of intimacy between spouses, the generosity that compels a couple to bring forth new life or to raise a child desperately in need of life.  This deeply-held view that souls are worth less than vacations and pensions and, ultimately, autonomy, is diametrically opposed to the life-giving paradigm we find in God's vision and heart for humanity.   

I find it highly ironic that what so many champion and herald and hope for can be found in the very place they despise and cast off: the heart of the family.  Acceptance.  Love.  Authenticity.  Fulfillment. 

But people want these things without the sacrifice, without the ultimate submission to a higher view of life which is sometimes more difficult, but always more real, and more beautiful.  Saying yes to Jesus is humbling and hard, but it is good.

There are some instances where the hatred of immortality and life is on display in clear and obvious ways.  (Abortion, for example, is a distorted and hideous perversion.)  But far more often, a more subtle suppression of life goes unnoticed.  Until a person is confronted with the preciousness of life, and is repulsed, and lashes out in anger at strangers in a store.

So as sick as I am, and as frustrating as it is to spend the end of one's summer sitting very still on the couch, I know that I am doing something worthwhile.  I am nourishing life, simply by existing and by sharing my body with a helpless little one.  In this I am loving my baby, and his or her seven siblings too, and we may not be taking many hikes, but my goodness we're living.  Together.  Saying yes to Jesus and making sacrifices in small and big ways.  We may seem like we're nuts to the rest of the world, but somehow, in a really miraculous and astounding way, we're doing some pretty important things that have eternal significance.     

Not a bad way to spend the summer, actually.

Because life is always worth it.

What you know, and what you're passionate about

Mekdes, right after being baptized.

My drafts folder is filling up.

Half-written, clumsy posts about everything from motherhood to chicken sit unfinished and unrefined, with the word "Draft" next to them in big red letters.

I haven't done much writing lately, at least not as much as I usually do, but even the things I have written remain in obscurity, unpublished.  Some of this is because I'm not feeling well, but mostly it's because I tend to write on topics that I'm thinking about.  And the topics that I'm thinking about are hard, and potentially uncomfortable.

You see, writing is personal.  Or at least it ought to be.  Because a finished piece of work, even a simple blogpost, is a window into the author's mind and heart--an imperfect, two-dimensional window, but a window just the same.  And the difference between a blog and, say, a book, is that the blogosphere tends to be comprised of a far more diverse readership than the subset of folks who buy a book.  And the communication on a blog goes both ways, not just one, which is really kind of amazing, but also intimidating.

So as I mull over things like religious freedom, faith, friendship, marriage, life, motherhood, and yes, chicken, I struggle to express my thoughts and also to pinpoint my purpose in conveying such information.  Contrary to what some may believe, I don't primarily write to change peoples' minds.  I'm kind of under the assumption that the views you hold are held for a reason, and I'm probably the last person in the world positioned to convince you otherwise. 

I do on the other hand write for myself, for those who are attempting to live as faithful Catholics, for those struggling to follow Jesus, for those on the fence, for friends, for disenchanted Protestants, and for casual observers who hold a completely different worldview from me, but who continue to read out of curiosity.  Simply, as an at-home mother, I have found blogging to be an incredible outlet for processing through and sharing my thoughts, and my journey through life.  I have been so inspired and encouraged by the written word myself, and if I can somehow contribute to someone else's well-being through this medium, then it's worth it.

The trouble is, though, that my journey has taken me new places.  I no longer write primarily about adoption or about the cute things my kids say.  (That is so 2006.)  Instead, I write about life.  And faith.  And I've always written about faith, but now my faith has a label--Catholic--and it's not a particularly popular one.  I've always held relatively conservative positions on social and theological issues, but now you know precisely what I think about those things on account of the label.  I've always believed that one should discern what is true, and follow that truth, but now you know I believe in absolute truth.  On account of the label. 

And, I have readers here from all phases and corners of my life.  So as a result, I occasionally make people angry.  Or disappointed in me.  It is the irony of a growing readership--as more people I don't know choose to follow my blog because something resonates with them, more people I do know are frustrated because I say this or that, or don't say this or that, or because I believe such-and-such to be true.

It's a tight-rope act.

But.

I've done a lot of thinking about the whole thing.  About where one ought to draw the line, about whether a writing gig is ever worth alienating or aggravating people, about what should be said in a public forum where I know some people are going to disagree or think less of me.

And at the end of the day, I've decided that you should write what you know and write what you're passionate about, and accept the fact that a blog is very public and, as such, potentially polarizing.  I don't think the goal should ever be to polarize (though I do think there is occasionally a time and place for such rhetoric), but I also don't think it's authentic or genuine to preface every opinion with "This is just my truth, and any other truth claim is equally valid."  Because nobody actually lives that way. 

I think often about an article that ran in a local magazine this past Easter, which included interviews of people from different faith traditions.  As I eagerly began the section on Islam, I was dismayed to see that they had not sought out a practicing, devout Muslim, but instead spoke to a woman who disagreed with pretty much any and all traditional Muslim distinctives.  A university professor, she had parted ways with the traditional expression of Islam and considered herself a progressive, attending a non-traditional Denver mosque. 

I was genuinely disappointed that I did not get to hear from a pious practicer of Islam, and yet felt that the publication's choice in interviewee spoke much louder than the woman herself.  Clearly the magazine was not comfortable showcasing people of faith who believe their religion to be true.  Instead, they only sought out those with worldviews that appeared on the surface to be inclusive and non-threatening.

It should come as no surprise then that in spite of the statistical breakdown of faith practices in the Denver metro area, which include many Catholics, not one Catholic priest was featured.

Of course the irony here is that this open-minded worldview isn't any more inclusive than any other, they just differ in terms of who they include.  The progressive Muslim for example certainly seemed to have a much more relaxed approach to religion, but was incredibly opposed to the traditional expression of her faith.

So what does any of that have to do with blogging?  Well, it has a lot to do with it. 

My Facebook newsfeed has been clogged this past week with peoples' views on marriage and free speech and tolerance.  Surely yours has too.  The particular issue in question is front-and-center and will not be going away--not now, not ever.  It is something that matters deeply to many people--people on both sides of the fence.  And that's why seemingly everyone is talking about it.  Because it matters, and each of us wants a voice, and we care about society as a whole. 

I think this is, generally, healthy.  I appreciate when people can share opinions and articulate why they believe something.  I appreciate knowing where somebody stands, and knowing that they had the courage to share.  Even if we disagree.

What I don't appreciate though is the attitude that this or that person has no right to express their view.  I don't appreciate when someone shares an opinion, and is labeled intolerant or a fundamentalist or a Hitler.  I don't appreciate when someone presents a viewpoint, and is automatically deemed polarizing or divisive.

We.all.have.opinions.  We all are coming from a place of belief.  We all categorize some ideas as wrong, and some as right. 

So when it comes to writing on a public platform like a blog, I believe you can be a kind, gracious, and approachable person while also maintaining a consistent, honest, and unwavering belief system.  I want to be authentic.  I want to be me.  I want to be known.  And so I can't imagine maintaining a blog where I avoid any and all mention of meaningful things that some might disagree with.  Because any and all convictions have that potential.  That's just the way it is.  And the beauty of a blog is that a writer can pen their thoughts to the void, and people can choose whether or not to read, and some will, and some won't.

I'm honestly not sure what will eventually emerge from my drafts folder, and what will remain.  I am sure that my blog will continue to be a place where I explore life from a Catholic, homeschooling, married perspective.  Because that's where I'm coming from.  I am defined by who God made me to be, and that certainly won't sit well with everyone, and that is more than okay.

And in spite of the inherent challenges and awkward situations that will surely arise, there is one overarching reason that I will continue writing what I know and what I'm passionate about. 

God's story is incredibly beautiful. 

The historical Christian faith, what we call Catholicism or Christ's Church, is rich and liberating and full. And, I believe, true.  It is also incredibly misunderstood and has lived in relative obscurity in the United States for a long time now.  And yet as Protestantism continues to shift, and belief in God changes shape in a post-modern era, the Church remains a source of wisdom and constancy.  There are many people, afterall, asking questions and seeking answers--not necessarily about which branch of religion is right, but moreso about what it means to be a woman, what ought marriage look like, how does one find fulfillment in life, and what Christianity even is.

Not all of these seekers will become Catholic, not by a long shot, but that doesn't mean that the beauty of Christianity cannot speak into their lives, or help them recover a holistic and nourishing understanding of motherhood, or bring them to an appreciation of the holiness and grandeur of God.  Some of my most treasured and respected friends who are passionately following Jesus are not, in fact, Catholic.  They are Protestant.  And while we may not agree on things like the Eucharist or the Blessed Mother, we probably do have a great deal in common in terms of the importance of faith and obedience to Jesus.  I do not mean to say that the differences are unimportant, or that both manifestations of Christianity are equally true (since they are, by nature, mutually exclusive).  But it is to say that to be Catholic is to hold to the traditions handed down by the apostles (including the Bible), and much of this is reflected in traditional Protestantism as well.  Thus the Catholic perspective has the potential to enrich and inform people of diverse backgrounds, especially when the voice of Evangelicalism has changed so much over the years.

And so I feel convicted that I must share where God has brought me, how He has done it, and what I am learning.  I am not expressly intending to make converts, but to openly share God's heart for humanity.  He has given each of us a story, and I believe we must take care to steward that story well.

So this is mine.   

I share it here on my blog, and I will humbly do so by writing what I know, and what I'm passionate about.

7 Quick Takes Friday

Driving our rig across Nevada.

1.)  We're home!  Back yesterday from a one-and-a-half-week roadtrip to California.  It was super fun, but I admit I am utterly EXHAUSTED.  And horribly behind on laundry!

2.)  My pregnancy is still going well--thank you so much for your prayers!  I'm nine and a half weeks along now and, truth be told, feeling lousy.  :)  I'm tired, and completely nauseous for much of the day.  Add to that the stifling heat in Denver, and you can see it's not a very pretty picture. 

3.)  We're in the process of getting a swamp cooler, but the people who were supposed to come do it have cancelled on us TWICE now.  Ugh.  Clearly they are not in their first trimester of pregnancy.  Or they are, and are holed up in their nice air-conditioned homes while I sweat in mine.  Hmmm.

4.)  The summer is literally flying by and I'm very aware that before we know it, another school year will be starting.  We educate our children at home, and so this means that a lot of organizing and planning needs to happen between now and then.  I have most of my curriculum already, but there are still some loose ends I need to tweak and tie.  I'm also hoping to cobble together some sort of schedule for the year, because after last year's globe-trotting, three heart surgeries, and multiple therapies a week, I'm ready to really dig in.

5.)  Blogging.  Writing.  It's been hard since my falling prey to fatigue and morning sickness, but I'm hoping to get back into the routine, and soon.  In part because I didn't quite offend as many people as I'd hoped with my commentary on 50 Shades of Grey. 

6.)  That was me being sarcastic.  I don't actually like offending people, and like to steer clear of writing on overly controversial subjects.  Like, pornography-dressed-up-as-literature for women.  However, I made an exception in this case, which maybe I'll explain later.  For now I'll simply say that you can't please everyone all of the time, and this is something that bloggers face on a regular basis.  So while I don't like ticking people off, I do enjoy writing on meaningful things, even if it sometimes upsets people.

7.)  We have a fun weekend up ahead, which will hopefully include some sort of Taco Bell feast.  Because I crave Taco Bell like mad when I'm pregnant.  Not sure why.  But let's just say that when we exited the highway around 1 am on our way home from California in pursuit of the aforementioned culinary delights, and it was closed, I nearly cried.  For reals.  And while I settled instead for a Rolos McFlurry from an establishment that WAS open, I inwardly longed for a bunch of nacho cheese to go with it.  Don't judge.



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Thanks to Jen at Conversion Diary for hosting!

7 + 1

Look at me, using a math problem for my subject line.

What could it mean, I wonder?

Well, I'll tell you:

I'm having a baby!

We found out about this littlest of Heldts on our ten-year anniversary, which is so extra special because we found out we were expecting our oldest on our one-year anniversary. Love.

I'm not very far along right now, just eight weeks or so. And while I would have preferred to wait until the first trimester had passed before making a baby announcement, my hand was forced when one of our friends offered me a drink...and I had to turn him down.

Which is apparently rather uncharacteristic of me.

So.

I am thrilled (yes, thrilled!) to be mama to this precious little one. Yes, it's also a little overwhelming to wrap my mind around child number eight joining the family and all that entails, but ohmygoodness, I am thrilled!

If it comes to mind, please do pray for my baby and for the pregnancy. The first trimester is always a bit unnerving for me (having miscarried twice over the past several years), and while I'm completely hopeful that everything is fine, I'm also completely afraid that it won't be. We're in California right now, and I truly hope that things continue progressing as they should--especially because we're traveling and far away from home.

But anyway.

Yay for the joy of new life, for the gift of love that each and every child brings, and for baby number EIGHT!

Not as grey as you think

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So today we're going to talk about 50 Shades of Grey.

Oh yes, we are.

In case you weren't aware, the book is controversial, provocative...and wildly successful.

50 Shades of Grey has already sold millions of copies and doesn't seem to be slowing down anytime soon.  It is, in fact, the fastest selling paperback to date in the UK--flying off the shelves quicker than even Harry Potter.  And just to bring you up to speed, the book tells the story of a relationship between a woman who loses her virginity to a man who employs elements of sadomasochism in the bedroom--as the result of prior abuse. 

Interestingly, the primary fan-base reading the novel is married women over the age of 30.

While I personally have not read the book (and will not be doing so), I've actually given a fair amount of thought to this most recent of literary phenomenons, from two distinct--but definitely interrelated--angles.

The first is the personal.  Women are devouring this book, not only drawn to the story and the plotline but also unashamed to admit it.  What is it about the novel that captivates us ladies so, that compels us to purchase sexually explicit material to enjoy with a glass of wine before bed?  What might this say about our personal morality, beliefs about marriage, and our understanding of the human condition?

The second is the societal.  What does it indicate about the culture when this is deemed acceptable summer reading?  What can we glean about womanhood today from the fact that this is what women, married and single, are so eagerly embracing?  When book clubs and communities rally around a novel dedicated to what are still considered by many to be taboo sexual behaviors, in this case stemming from past abuse?

The answers to these questions are on the one hand complex, and yet on the other quite simple.   

Book sales indicate, to me, that because women are living in a post-modern world devoid of a cohesive and healthy sexual ethic, they move toward a false embodiment of womanhood and sexuality, by default. 

When God made the world, He made people--and created them male and female.  Men are human through their maleness, women through their femaleness.  God of course also created marriage, community between spouses.  It's rather miraculous, really, and incredibly beautiful to consider womanhood as purpose-filled and life-giving and distinct.  Everything I do, I approach as a woman, because I am a woman.  Body and soul.

Yet we have traded the above, God-given vision for a most sad counterfeit.  We seek to suppress, at all costs, our very womanly nature.  We strive to assure people (most of all ourselves) that we are really no different from men, and that we have no unique gift to offer the world--which ironically diminishes our value and influence on the global stage.

And yet still we are sexual beings.  Which means we will live out our sexuality somehow.  But we don't want to be tethered to any sort of prescribed moral code, and we don't want to be limited in how we use or experience sex.  One need only scan the cover of Cosmo at the grocery store to discover the paradox that is reducing sexuality to personal pleasure, in spite of the diminishing returns it brings.  Thus the hamster wheel of "spicing up your marriage" and "keeping things exciting" is alive and well, in virtually all corners of society that don't acknowledge the traditional Christian view on marriage (which teaches that sexuality has both unitive and procreative elements, and is part of a much bigger and more magnificent picture).  And even if Cosmo is considered too trashy for your particular circle, you can dress those ideas up a bit and tack the word "Christian" onto the title.  It's really no different.

Because it all reflects the same truth: we are a culture seeking meaning in sexuality, and we are seeking that meaning in all the wrong places.

Enter 50 Shades of Grey.

And this is a problem.  A big one.  God's intention for women is not compatible with the culture's present narrative.  Because God says we're truly free when we give ourselves away, totally, all of ourselves, in a fully-integrated sort of way, and society says we're only liberated when we take what we want, when we want it.  And that we can isolate our sexuality from our core being, and bend and twist it to our personal tastes.  Mutually exclusive ideas, no?  The fall-out from this exchange is far-reaching and disastrous for many reasons, not the least of which is the obsolescence of the virtue chastity.

Consider this from the Catechism of the Catholic Church (2337):

Chastity means the successful integration of sexuality within the person and thus the inner unity of man in his bodily and spiritual being.  Sexuality, in which man's belonging to the bodily and biological world is expressed, becomes personal and truly human when it is integrated into the relationship of one person to another, in the complete and lifelong mutual gift of a man and a woman. 


The virtue of chastity therefore involves the integrity of the person and the integrality of the gift.

The Catechism then goes on to say that chastity is "opposed to any behavior that would impair it.  It tolerates neither a double life nor duplicity in speech."  It shouldn't take a doctorate to discern that the pornography passing as a legitimate beach read in 50 Shades of Gray is not conducive to the living of a chaste life.  There is no reason to read such a book, as far as I can tell.  And that goes for us married ladies just as much as for our single friends. 

There is, of course, more to it than mere personal morality (although that is of paramount importance, obviously).  Because it is simply a fact that our community does not go unaffected by our respective individual choices.  The Catechism states that chastity "also involves a cultural effort, for there is an 'interdependence between personal betterment and the improvement of society.'"  We must therefore work towards a society that affirms the dignity of the person, that rejects the objectivication of women and that supports the base of society, the family.  We must pursue standards that promote true womanhood and true manhood, while jettisoning anything that does not.

And lest you think I'm saying otherwise, allow me to assure you that the Christian's life is not primarily comprised of avoiding this or that.  Abstinence and self-control are certainly a necessary part of it, but only insofar as they serve the greater end.  And the greater end in this case is to faithfully live our vocation--whichever it is--in holiness and charity.  We don't need pornographic novels or seedy sex-advice columns to maintain a beautiful, fulfilling, God-honoring sexuality.  We must instead fight against the lie that those things can somehow enhance our marriage, because they are nothing more than a disordered counterfeit and a dangerous substitute for true, pure, and chaste spousal love.

Before closing I do want to address one last thing, the idea that it is married women of child-bearing age most enamored with (and likely to buy) the novel.  Some of this can be attributed to the desire for escape, which we mothers all experience from time to time.  But could it also be further evidence that married women simply happen to be the ones most affected by the culture's false premise of sexuality? 

We give ourselves away in marriage, perhaps without truly embracing what Pope John Paul II brilliantly referred to as "the feminine genius".  Our self-giving in every area is mediated by an acceptance of society's promise that the complete giving of self in a womanly way is oppressive, impractical, and even obscene.  (It's Adam and Eve in the garden all over again, right?  Our way must be better than God's original plan.)  So we live in the tension of a marriage not necessarily ordered towards wholeness, losing our grasp on the very meaning of the sacrament.  Our sexuality is separated and locked away into its own category and is reduced to, exclusively, whatever makes us feel good.  Marriage itself is presumed to be nothing more--and nothing less--than the means to a happy and carefree existence.

Therefore any book, magazine, product or film that we claim makes our sexual relationship with our husband "better", is considered good--no matter how illicit or pornographic it might be.

But the Sacrament of Marriage was not created in this way--nor is it always particularly happy and carefree.  Because if we are indeed called to this particular vocation, we are called to oneness with our spouse.  Men and women are undeniably equal, and yet fabulously complementary.  Therefore we must work together towards union with God, and with one another.  This joining is not easily won, this integration between body and soul.  It must be fought for, nurtured, and protected.  So that we can, simply, be whole.

If you're planning to read the novel, I would beg you to please think again!  We women are made for so much more than dimestore romance and disordered, two-dimensional sexuality.  We are sexual creatures, yes, but the glorious miracle of womanhood and femininity is too great a good to sacrifice on the altar of cheap thrills and fleeting pleasure.  And it will be fleeting, truly it will be, because the counterfeit-version never satisfies over the long-term.  Ever.  Nor is "feeling good" a proper goal for the Christian life, as it's simply not high enough.

I don't know about you ladies, but I long to cultivate faith, hope, and charity in my heart, and in my home.  I want to enjoy--and thrive in!--a relationship with my husband that is chaste and life-giving, and to grow in holiness and love through my marriage.  Which is ultimately a picture of Jesus and His Church.  His pure and spotless Bride. 

And so our marriages are, for this reason alone, worth protecting from the stain of best-selling books like 50 Shades of Grey.

7 Quick Takes through InstaFriday {#5}

Linking up today with Jeannett and Jennifer for a peek into our lives this past week, via cell phone pics.  Come back each Friday to see what we've been up to!

1.)  Married ten years!  Yes, on June 22nd, we celebrated ten years of Holy Matrimony.  My wonderful parents took the kids for the night and we dined at Del Frisco's.  Then Kevin surprised me with the first season of Downton Abbey and a sweet book of photos and poetry documenting our life together so far.  Love!

2.)  I don't even remember the last time we'd gone out to breakfast, just the two of us.  On Saturday morning we tried out a delicious creole cafe in Denver before collecting our kids, and oh my goodness, it was amazing!  It was also majorly crowded, so we sat at the bar.  And felt much younger than we parents-to-seven actually are.

3.)  Don't you just love when you get something fun in the mail?  Usually when I've ordered anything online it's books or homeschooling curriculum (which I really do get excited about!), but this time was different because the package came from Lisa Leonard Designs!  I'd been eyeing a particular necklace there for awhile, but let's face it, most of my jewlery comes from the thrift store or the $1.50 rack at Forever 21.  No joke.  I'm cheap like that.  But when I got an email saying Lisa was having a super duper sale where, if you ordered something, you got another necklace FREE, I couldn't resist!  (On a side-note, Lisa is a friend of mine and it's been so fun to watch her business evolve.  If you're not familiar with her jewelry, you're really missing out!)

4.)  Here it is!  I just love this piece.  Whimsical and fun.

5.)  My eight-year-old daughter drew this two days ago.  And told me it's the "Target dog."  Ahem.  Do you think I maybe spend too much time at Target?

6.)  My latest lunch obsession.  Spinach, feta, and sliced peppers with balsamic vinegar and olive oil.  Yum!

7.)  So.  When I tell my two-year-old to smile for a photo, THIS is what she does.  THIS is her picture face.  Squinted eyes, squished nose, open mouth.  She's kind of a big deal, obviously. 

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I hope you all have a lovely weekend.  We don't have many plans, which I admit is rather nice for a change!  See you next week!

What the experts don't tell you

This article was originally written as a response to a writing prompt link-up, but I missed the deadline.  Because I do things like that.  I'm sharing it here anyway.

Becoming a parent for the first time is intimidating.  I can remember the jumble of emotions as if it were yesterday, even though it was nine years ago when we discovered, on our first wedding anniversary, that our first baby was on the way.

From the moment the test read positive, I was thrilled.  Elated.  Over-the-moon in love with the precious soul now inhabiting my womb.  I had no first-hand experience with motherhood, but I knew I loved this little being with everything that was in me.  Something profound had happened, and was continuing to happen, and even though I knew parenting would be hard, I believed it would be beautiful too.

Yet I realized early on that the culture in general preferred to focus on the hard parts of having a child, in particular the degradation of a woman's body and heart that they said automatically came with carrying and delivering a baby.  Your body is never the same...your life is never the same...your marriage is never the same.  

Which, actually, is true.

But what they really meant when they said those things was that it's worse.  My figure, my routine, my relationship with my husband were all sure to be doomed by the parasitic creature gaining more and more strength within me each day.  And while I simply could not believe those things could be completely right, I also would occasionally wonder if they were maybe a little bit true.

"What will happen with us?" I timidly asked my husband one afternoon as we shared a picnic lunch on the grass.  I must have been seven or eight months pregnant by that point, and the assorted comments and warnings and reactions to our having a baby so soon in the life of a marriage (she would be born a year and a half after we'd wed), and so young being that I was 22 and he was 23, had taken their toll.  I'd begun to wonder if maybe I was wrong.  If maybe I was being naive to assume that this was through-and-through a very good thing, this baby we were about to have.

My husband adamantly assured me that if this baby was a good thing--and we knew she was since God created marriage, and loves life, and delights in each and every soul--then our marriage wouldn't instantly become worse solely on account of becoming parents.  On the contrary, following God's design for vocation ought to ultimately enhance and grow and change and bless.  We couldn't know this for sure then, but we trusted in it just the same.

And of course once that chubby baby girl joined the rest of the world on a warm February night, I knew Kevin was right.  I knew that we had participated in something incredibly miraculous and something much bigger than ourselves. 

Yes there was sleep deprivation, and there were diapers, and my hips never quite went back to their pre-baby configuration.  And now after having given birth to three chubby baby girls, which has necessitated a combined total of four and a half years spent breastfeeding, other parts of me will never be the same either. 

So yes, I can see how someone really could look at me and believe that my babies did indeed change everything.  My body, my time, my heart are just not my own any longer.  Whereas Kevin and I used to see movies and eat out at nice restaurants on the weekends, now we spend our time at home, or with other families.  Sometimes our weekends even involve caring for sick kids or cleaning up messes.  Far from glamorous, we live out our days in community with seven small people who have a lot of needs. 

But I would still argue that it is better, not worse, these changes that have slowly but surely crept into our bones and restructured our hearts.  We love more.  Give more.  Die to self more.  Laugh more.  Live more.

Sadly, it is a well-kept secret that children bring more vibrance, more stability, more grace, and more joy to a marriage.  Because you see, most people prefer to focus on the hardships and sacrifice.  Which, I admit, is a reality--motherhood is difficult, and exhausting, and in-the-trenches much of the time.  But in spite of being right about the challenges of parenthood, those people fail to acknowledge that hardship and sacrifice are merely part of life's landscape either way, and that living out the vocation God has selected for you (in this case, marriage and motherhood) will always, always bring deeper fulfillment and union with Jesus.  Always.  And two individuals growing in holiness and in devotion to God are going to be moving towards a better marriage relationship, too.

The truth is that MOST things related to motherhood are mysteriously absent from the two-dimensional books and articles penned by so-called experts. 

They don't even begin to capture the horror of a child with the stomach flu, for example, nor do they have any guidance for people who have been called by God to adopt four children with traumatic pasts from a developing country. 

They have nothing to say to the mother who will sit in a waiting room while her four-year-old daughter has open heart surgery, or to the woman who will experience two miscarriages. 

They fail to address the joys and struggles of being open to life, and consequently open to the attention of strangers--both good and bad--that you receive as a result. 

And they definitely don't touch on owning a big 15-passenger van or on what you're supposed to do when you and your seven kids are stranded by the side of the highway, because the aforementioned van has been rendered out-of-commission.

Much of contemporary thought on life and parenthood has nothing to say to a woman like me.  And perhaps this is why I've not spent a lot of (read: any) time perusing the subject's best-sellers.  Instead I've found my inspiration and direction from God and the Church's teachings, from the great papal encyclicals like Humane Vitae and Mulieris Dignitatum and Familiaris Consortio, and from books like Cormac Burke's Covenanted Happiness (presently out of print, but worth finding if you can.  You can also read it in its entirety, for free, here). 

Timeless truths (as opposed to pop-culture advice and modern-day commentary) about what it means to be a woman and a mother give me hope and passion for the future, and faith to get through the day.  Because the reality is that my life just doesn't make sense outside of the paradigm of vocation.  And vocation is just a fancy way of saying that I am chosen by God for a specific purpose, and doing my very best to live that out--suffering and all--because it brings me closer to Jesus.  Things may be hard, my children may occasionally be a disaster, my home may be chaotic from time to time, but I am participating with God in the very shaping of souls, a most meaningful work. 

Whether the books tell me that or not.

7 Quick Takes through InstaFriday {#4}

Linking up again today with Jeannett at Life Rearranged for Insta Friday, and Jennifer at Conversion Diary for 7 Quick Takes Friday!  Every Friday here at Just Showing Up I take you back through my week through my grainy cell phone pics.  It's such a fun way to catalogue what we've been up to, and give you a little glimpse into our lives.

And I apologize for the lack of posting over this past week--we had family in town, I've been shuttling some of my kids back and forth to church each day, and I'm also in the midst of working on some super exciting and fun changes to the blog.  But not to worry, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.  :)

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1.)  Sometimes when you're two, there's nothing like drinking strawberry lemonade out of a fancy cup.  (Last Friday my oldest daughter had a friend over, so clearly strawberry lemonade was a must.  And the siblings all got to have some too.)

2.)  Pancakes with fresh strawberries for breakfast Saturday morning.  I rarely make a big breakfast, but my in-laws were in town and my husband kids were begging for pancakes.  Yum!

3.)  Saturday evening we attended the birthday party of some sweet kiddos.  And Mary rather enjoys this little plastic car anytime we go to their house.  She seems so grown up in this picture!  My baby is getting old.  Boo. 

4.)  Last Sunday night we got to attend the baptism of a baby of some dear friends.  It was so, so precious.  My daughter Kaitlyn made this card, and this cross out of scraps of wood and masking tape.  :)  What a truly remarkable miracle to witness, this sweet little girl receiving the Sacrament of Baptism.

5.)  This week my three oldest kids have been attending Totus Tuus (Latin for "Totally Yours") at our parish.  They've loved it!  Daily Mass, fun songs, games, a water fight, prayer, a dinner, and instruction in the faith.  Not sure what they're going to do with themselves when the week is over!

6.)  When you're not quite old enough to attend Totus Tuus, what is a girl to do?  Have a sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa's house, of course!  Here Kaitlyn is, when I dropped her off.  She went swimming at the pool, shopped for a new outfit and toys, got to select the menu (which included pumpkin pie for breakfast), and had a giant bubble bath in the jacuzzi tub.  It's a wonder she was willing to come home!  Time like this is so good for my middle child's soul.

7.)  It occurs to me that we've been so very busy this week that I really haven't taken many pictures!  (Thus no photo for #7.)  Lunch at the park with a friend a couple of times, hanging out at my parents' house, and shopping and out to dinner with girlfriends.  Our life is full, and I love it.  I hope you have a wonderful weekend! 

7 Quick Takes through InstaFriday {#3}

Linking up this week with my friends Jeannett at Life Rearranged, and Jen at Conversion Diary!  Here is the Heldt Week in Review, as told through my cell phone pics.

1.)  I love to shop.  And, so do my girls.  Saturday afternoon we browsed our local Catholic bookstore, and then discovered a fun second-hand shop nearby.  I love spending this precious time with my daughters.

  

2.)  At the aforementioned second-hand shop, I found this fun yellow (yes, I'm mildly obsessed with this color) bird, and this necklace.  I was a little unsure about such chunky and, let's face it, cheap-looking jewelry, but I also thought it was kind of fun.  So I bought it.  And my husband detests it.  I believe his exact words were: "That necklace looks like it was designed by a psychologically wounded child."  I pretended to be offended, but deep down, comments like that that remind me why I married the guy.  He's darn funny.  Rude, but funny.

3.)  Surprise date night!  At 4:00 in the afternoon I got a phone call from the "Rocky Mountain Dating Service", saying childcare was arranged and to be ready to go on a date with a "distinguished gentleman" at 6:30 pm.  Thai food, downtown, beautiful evening, best husband ever.

4.)  Thai iced tea.  I love this drink more than anything.  I downed two of them.  Could have had more.  Wanting one now.

5.)  Sometimes the urge strikes to listen to country music.  I know.  I'm sorry, but it really is true--I love me some Johnny Cash and Diamond Rio, espeically in the summertime.  Makes me happy.  Anyway, my boys were pretending they were riding horses and roping whilst my music blared in the kitchen.  They loved it!  My daughter, on the other hand, was less than impressed.  Which should probably comes as no surprise considering the fact that she was singing Aerosmith songs at three years old.  Clearly Kevin got to her first.

6.)  My crew.  Loving life at Costco.  Contrary to what this picture seems to indicate, Mary was happy to be there, and Tigist was wearing pants.  And this may sound crazy, but I'm a big believer in taking kids along on errands.  Like I actually have philosophical thoughts on this.  I really, really feel they ought to participate in society, it's a chance to get out of the house in a mundane, real-life sort of way, and it's quality time together.  And, I don't want my kids to feel that because there were so many of them, they never got to go to the store with mama.

 

7.)  Airport pickup.  My in-laws own a plane, and flew themselves here from California for a visit.  Fun!  And, my kids clearly have a future in the bellhop industry.