Photo by Vladimir Fedotov on Unsplash

Now that we are in the space before the winter solstice, where daylight savings time has pushed us squarely back into the darkest time of the year, I find myself drawn to the patches of warm light all around: streetlights, candles, and Christmas trees twinkling in yards and windows. In the same way that we know that dawn is just over the horizon, our posture is expectant. This feels intuitive and instinctual.

We await the light

Whether we do so out of fear of the dark, impatience for what comes next, or stubborn hope that what was promised will come, wait we do. For all of the good the past year has held, there has been a large share of darkness, too. Seasonal or not, many find themselves fumbling and discouraged in the dark. My prayer recently has been for the world and light. I thank God for those who bring light–whose presence offers light. I pray for those who are in search of light and ask for opportunities to share light. It has provided a reminder of the Spanish phrase for giving birth, which is very much the same: Dar Luz, directly translated: Giving the light.

And I couldn’t help but get lost in the imagery that whether we carry a child, the gifts we share at work, or the load we bear with our neighbors, aren’t we doing the same? Aren’t we all walking around bearing a little light to a world living in darkness? Perhaps we do not notice it, and likely we are not at our best at all times, but if the Incarnation means anything, it means a particular dignity marks each of our encounters with another, especially in seasons of darkness.

The incarnation began with Jesus and it has never stopped…God takes on flesh so that every home becomes a church, every child becomes the Christ-child, and all food and drink become a sacrament. God’s many faces are now everywhere in flesh, tempered and turned down so that our human eye can see him. -Ronald Rolheiser

Never is the Light of the World more tangible than in this season where we (in the northern hemisphere) find ourselves physically distanced from the sun. On the heels of the Immaculate Conception, we honor the one who showed us what it meant to truly Dar Luz: Mary. Long before and ever since the world has been searching for a glimpse of that which illuminates: The Light of the World, Emmanuel

Oil as the source of light

Earlier in the year I had the privilege of attending a retreat. The theme for the weekend was the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins (Matthew 25: 1-13). Maybe that is where the light imagery began for me–thoughts of being called upon in the middle of the night, with or without my lamp lit. Memories of the comfort it is to come into the light having been in the dark, and the deep awareness that it may be our faith, our light that is called upon in a time of need.

If you’re familiar with this parable, it is a bit of a letdown. The wise virgins uncharacteristically do not share their oil in this Gospel story, and advise their ‘unwise’ companions to head into town where they can procure their own. In this case, the wise women cannot share their oil, a metaphor for the faith with which they have been awaiting the bridegroom. Their faith simply cannot be doled out. Ask anyone who desires a loved one coming to faith. The oil they seek is not for sale in the market. Instead it is a hope that has been fostered and tended to over time.

Light as a byproduct of faith

But the light? The light cannot be contained. Although we cannot give away the source of our hope, the byproduct of that oil kept burning, that is something that can be shared far and wide. It can scarcely be contained.

On a clear night, the light from one candle can be seen from a distance of a mile and a half. To imagine that the lives we lead, and our daily encounters go unnoticed by those in our midst is as unlikely as it is false.

As we approach Gaudete Sunday, I find myself feeling gratitude for those who bear their light, their gifts, and their children with a dark and weary world. Similarly, may we be encouraged to do the same.

The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. -John 1:5

In case you missed it:

St. Nicholas Day

November: Gratitude & Recipes

The post Bearing Light appeared first on Unexpected Honey.

Nothing I did or could have done, changed this opportunity. It was simply to be received and enjoyed. It was my joy to share it with another friend who was equally shocked by the decadence extended to us. It was heartening to have someone to share in the gift, to bear witness to this unmerited goodness. The performance is over, but I have been lingering with the sentiment of being the recipient of ‘the gift,’ or not.

Recently, while reading Ignatius’ tools for discernment, I ran up against this theme again: All as gift. This is not to say that everything feels like ‘winning’ front-row seats or otherwise but acknowledging that everything that comes to us does so, having first come through the Word-Made-Flesh. Both a consoling and challenging reminder. This feels laughable to me following two hurricanes, and heavy news, on the cusp of an election of historical significance.

How and where can the Light of the World be seen amid these circling heartbreaks?

It is easy for me to accept my tickets, my medical clearance, or a job opportunity and praise the Giver from whom they came. The experience of receiving generous care, hospitality, goodwill, and justice confirms what we hope and believe to be true about the Creator. We expect these of the One who is all good. How different, how insensitive really, it can feel to entertain the same sentiment about someone who was passed over, who needs to come back for more tests, who just wants a little more time? Could it possibly be that their trials are gifted to them, guiding them to better know and trust the very God who allows these tragedies? Offered, but not optional.

And yet, how can we believe anything different?

I have long clung to the image that when allowed to ask God about the hows and whys of this upside-down experience of living, we will sit together with the tapestry that is my life. And because time will be limitless and unceasing, we can linger together there as God recounts the familiar and forgotten moments of my life with me. First, with the front of the tapestry, the one I recognize as the days I have lived. Next, the Lord will turn over the recognizable pattern I have held as the story of my life, and expose its backside—its underpinnings.

I imagine God will not begin by directing my attention to the even stitches, the cadence that was the day-to-day or status quo. Rather, the hand of God will hold my hand over the seasons that hurt, and trace the knots, the pulls, tears, repairs, and reinforcements that have been added but by grace—moments I never knew that affected me greatly, prayers prayed by me—or on my behalf. Providence’s guiding hand that I hadn’t noticed, gut-wrenching dark times that formed in me something more resilient. And I will run my fingers over these rough edges and lumpy, fraying mounds, and feel for the first time, what God has known all along: That the true tapestry, the masterpiece that’s been woven is reflected in these saving stitches of grace, by the guiding hand that knowingly and lovingly has held it together since the beginning of time.

Although it is not as smooth and appealing to the senses as the ordered, patterned design I may have desired for myself or another, I hope that rather than wishing away the unconventional beauty of the scars and reinforcements, I will come to a place of praise and thanksgiving for the grace that has been unknowingly sustaining me, underpinning my days all along.

On the feast of All Saints, we are poised to give thanks for the lives of holy ones who have gone before us—the patterns that make sense for having seen them in context. Just as important, and perhaps more consoling, is the time and space offered for All Souls, the lesser-known, those whose lives and witness may have been obscure, shorter than expected, ordinary, whose underpinnings have yet to be exposed to the Light and celebrated for the grace emulating therein.

Today I offer thanks for the hard and the holy, the smooth and gnarled, knotted-up grace that is core to how we are loved and sustained by God, even when it hurts.

The post Underpinnings: All as gift appeared first on Unexpected Honey.

“Reminders of home,” she called them. I looked up from my coffee and out the window as my friend casually gestured to the seagulls outside. Seeing that I wore confusion on my face, she elaborated. “Seagulls, anywhere but the sea are reminders that we are travelers on the way; that we will always be foreigners until we are home.” 

I was reminded of her observation on the way to the grocery store this week as, you guessed it, I watched the seagulls (Gulls! My high school biology teacher would be sure to correct me) circling the parking lot. Why they do this, I will never understand. I will be forever grateful for her insight because of their ever-present company circling above the parking lot light posts and unintentionally calling me out of myself. 

We are approaching Holy Week once again, and although I tell myself we listen to the story for my children, I suspect I will always go back to C.S. Lewis this time of year, allowing fauns, beavers, and Aslan, to guide me out of the season of ‘eternal winter.’ Because good children’s stories are timeless and communicate important truths, I am paying attention to light posts. This delicious ritual alongside Madeline L’Engle’s encouragement (Walking on Water) to tesseract our way to places, uninhibited by time and space, as we are in art.

And so we all do, as we navigate Passiontide, becoming pilgrims, having our feet washed after the last supper on Holy Thursday, venerating the Cross on Good Friday, feeling the ache of the tomb on Holy Saturday, and rejoicing on Easter Sunday. 

In the same way, passing gulls remind me of the eventual hope of heaven; entering into Holy Week puts into practice our ability to be present in the Paschal Mystery right now. 

Whether with Aslan, Mrs. Whatsit, Mary, Simon, Mary Magdalene, or the Crucified Lord, I pray that you are accompanied through this holiest of weeks and that it is deeply meaningful. I’ve included a variety of reflections from previous years if you are looking for ways to enter more deeply into Holy week:

Maundy Thursday, Lodgepoles

Holy Thursday & an invitation, if you didn’t get to join the Catholic Social Teaching Spotlight last year, you can find it all here.

Good Friday, I hear you, Mary

Holy Saturday, see below for a reflection I shared for a local volunteer group this week

Easter Sunday, Scripture verses about Resurrection

Be on the lookout for a prayer I’m sharing with Mothering Spirit this week, for when we cannot afford the luxury of Lent.

Holy Saturday

A reading from the Gospel according to Luke:

It was the day of preparation, and the sabbath was about to begin. The women who had come from Galilee with him followed behind, and when they had seen the tomb and the way in which his body was laid in it, they returned and prepared spiced and perfumed oils. Then they rested on the sabbath according to the commandment.

//

It had been a long day.

Take a minute to imagine how these women must have been feeling.

Luke, always sure to include detail about the presence of women, describes that it was Jesus’ friends Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary who stayed until the bitter end of the longest day. Long enough to see where it was that Jesus’ body would be laid because, in all practicality, they were preparing to do what came next: anoint him. His friends were preparing themselves to prepare his body for burial in the Jewish tradition. Not only that, but they were in a hurry because it was nearly dusk, and as faithful Jews themselves, they would have been going home to observe Shabbat.

Perhaps you have found yourself in a similar position. A place where your heart hasn’t had time to catch up to what is being asked of your hands. Your head is not processing, and your heart has not accepted the truth of what is plainly before you. 

This experience is one of shock, grief, and disbelief, all co-mingling and taking up residence. Most are familiar with the stages of grief, which begin with denial. Instinctive or otherwise, denial numbs us from the whiplash of what was true and isn’t any longer because we simply cannot catch up, emotionally. 

Think about what these women, all of the disciples, must have been trying to reconcile: Jesus was not who he said he was.

Just hours earlier, they were eagerly watching to see how their friend Jesus, Son of God was going to be made known to the world. Their friend, the One they had come to know as the miracle worker and Messiah, had come to set Israel free and reign, victorious. But…

Imagine their confusion when Jesus does not approach the Sanhedrin with force or might. Imagine their humiliation as the One they had come to believe would be their Savior, is mocked, spit upon, and stripped of his clothing in front of the jeering crowd. Jesus was not the heavenly King they expected–he was all too human, and his crucifixion proved it.

We have to begin here, in this place of deep desolation, and in the context of previous days’ events, to fully appreciate what the women were about to undertake as they made preparations to bury Jesus, alongside their hopes of a Savior.

Mary Magdalene, Mary, and Joanna showed up at the place of pain and humiliation–their beloved Jesus’, and their own (how could they have gotten it so wrong?!). The very tactile act of mixing burial spices, making tangible again the truth they hoped not to believe.

They didn’t have to show up–in fact, most didn’t. It’s not clear where the rest of Jesus’ disciples spent ‘holy Saturday.’ After all, purity laws being what they were, being in contact with the dead at the dawn of Shabbat would have made them ritually unclean, and Jesus appeared to be a fraud. But, despite their deep grief, and out of love for their friend, they rolled up their sleeves and took on this work of mercy to dignify their beloved.

There is wisdom for us here, of course. 

The women in Luke’s Gospel are small figures in the greater Easter story, but we find them giving, digging in when the world appeared not to be watching. Disillusioned as they may have been, they showed up, imperfectly carrying out the next step on a journey they couldn’t understand or predict. Not so different from us on any given day.

In the same way that we venerate the Cross and acknowledge Jesus’ agony on Good Friday, we might do well to spend some time in prayer with the faithfulness of Jesus’ friends on Holy Saturday.

-Who do you love that has disillusioned you, and what is your posture toward them?

-Which of your hopes have gone unfulfilled? How do you choose to move forward?

-Have you left room in the space between your head and your heart for the Christ to do something illogical, unpredictable, and unimaginable?

The post Seagulls & Lamp posts appeared first on Unexpected Honey.

Call me captain obvious, but I’m finding (once again) that there is nothing pretty about entering Lent. Beautiful? Absolutely. Growing? Definitely. Palatable? Less so.

This morning already, even while chocolate cookies bake for fat Tuesday, I’m mentally readying myself for the stark season we embark on tomorrow, and even the mundane to-do list smacks of little deaths and resurrections:

1. Take down Valentine décor
2. Plant garden seedlings/revive overwintered geraniums
3. Own up to biting off more than you can chew with the Lenten devotional
4. Enjoy final cup of coffee

As a gardener, the word Lent (which means springtime) resonates with me deeply. It is perfectly matched with the interior work of preparing and cultivating, metaphorically letting worms run wild through the compost of my life with the understanding that the more work done now, the more beautiful growing season it will be. But I’ve got to tell you, I was working in the yard this morning. I was sweating, I was muddy, and all I have to show for it is a bunch of red solo cups full of dirt, and a couple of paltry looking geraniums that spent the winter in a brown paper bag.

This doesn’t bode well for what’s about to take place. I repeat: There is nothing pretty about Lent.

I’ve given in to circumstantial Lents for the past couple years simply because those seasons were growing in and of themselves, bringing me to my knees and offering ample opportunities to die to myself. That said, having the option to personally select my cross this year, feels like a big deal. Thanks be to God for peaks and valleys! Whether you find yourself in on a mountain top, or deep in a valley, I pray that Jesus meets you right in the middle of it all.

As I planted seeds this morning, imagining the garden I’m hoping to cultivate after two summers without one, I couldn’t shake the thought that it is a fitting time to be shoving withered seeds into the earth. Everything about it is counter-intuitive. Just like the Paschal mystery: Dying to rise.

//

On a related note, the Lenten reflection booklet was making strides, but in order to provide a thorough and professional option with ample lead time, I’ve decided to offer it for next year. What I can tell you is that I am excited about what’s coming and I think it will be worth the wait. While I was excited to get this into your hands asap, I am grateful to have the space to move a bit slower and to provide a better option next spring.

Enjoy your Mardi Gras celebrations today. I am praying for a nourishing Lenten journey for us all this year.

“ I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.  He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more.  You have already been pruned and purified by the message I have given you.  Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me.” -John 15: 1-4

The post No such thing as a pretty Lent appeared first on Unexpected Honey.

The newness of the new year feels like it is settling in. One by one, the Christmas lights on our street are being turned off, the stock show is in town, and school is back in session. Maybe you are off and running with your resolutions or re-calibrating and keeping a steady pace. Either way, I wish you peace and a spirit of searching as we mull over the Epiphany that springs us forward.

We have a rare overcast and wintry day today that speaks to the ordinariness of winter. Gray-brown-white, quiet, cold. On the surface, it brings to mind the words of the carol ‘In the Bleak Midwinter.’ On the surface, it appears that the world is sleeping.

In my bones, I know this to be false.

I also know this because we are dog-sitting right now, and the dogs have gotten into my perennial sunflowers and begun tugging them up by their stalks. In my hustle to collect and replant the torn-out root balls around the yard, I noticed the abundant growth since I planted them last summer. It reminded me of this quote:

“Don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots down there are riotous.”

Curly, purple, and white tubers, thick as could be, surrounded the original taproot. So much life in such a short season! And I could not help but imagine the unnoticed life going on under the surface all around us. The cashier ringing up groceries saving for a long-awaited vacation, the woman in the cubicle next to you taking a call from the neonatologist. The teacher at conferences writing poetry by night; the nurse going though a divorce; the waitress taking night classes.

Not so different from you and I.

Ideas, hobbies, plans, or opportunities have a way of looking different, or presenting themselves at the turn of a new year–maybe you feel it, too? The urge to read, purge, invest in friendships, create, travel, paint, get outside, all going around simultaneously–maybe even things that have lain dormant in you for a long time. I may have succumbed to the idea that the fresh year invites new endeavors. I have my finger in so many pots right now that, on the surface, the days look a little lackluster because progress feels so slow. But, under the surface, it feels ‘riotous.’ 

This is a strange experience in a world that is increasingly curated before and after photos that smack of instant results without the toil. A beautiful garden: Poof!,Polished writing: Poof! Flourishing friendships: Poof! By and large, all of these are the product of just plain grunt work. 

So, as we enter 2023, cheers to the riotous, unseen, sometimes bleak, grunt work that overtakes us behind the scenes. May we give ourselves willingly to it and trust God’s Providence to tend to its untamed growth.

Trust in the Slow Work of God Above all, trust in the slow work of God We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new. And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability and that it may take a very long time. And so I think it is with you. your ideas mature gradually – let them grow, let them shape themselves, without undue haste. Don’t try to force them on, as though you could be today what time (that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will) will make of you tomorrow. Only God could say what this new spirit gradually forming within you will be. Give Our Lord the benefit of believing that his hand is leading you, and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.  – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S.J. (1881-1955)

In other news

Yours truly will be participating in a Guinness Book of World Records for women beekeepers tomorrow. If you see any of the hype on social media, please give it a ‘like.’

Blessed Is She Lenten devotionals are here–if you’d like to purchase, please consider using my affiliate link.

**If you can wait a little longer and would consider using a Lenten devotional that I am putting together–know that it is one of the riotous projects going on behind the scenes, and perhaps telling you about it will give me the accountability to complete it in a timely fashion. More to come!

The post Riotous Roots appeared first on Unexpected Honey.

Advent Greetings to you!

This is far and away my favorite season for its metaphors of darkness and light, Love Incarnate, and illustrations of God-with-us. I’m snatching this unexpected window for writing, as the baby finally fell asleep as it was time to leave for Mass, second-hand tea bag steeping in the stolen quiet while the rest of the gang drove off in the frosted car.

I laughed out loud as I read today’s reflection about listening and staying awake: ‘The holy thief breaks into our lives quietly, the barely audible click of a door, the softest padding of feet.’ I have found myself waking from Nutcracker-like dreams, laying in bed listening for the snap of mouse traps as our unfinished construction project looms on, beckoning more than one weary seeker to find shelter in our home. Hardly the holiday-ready home pictured in any ad splashed before our eyes this month.

There is no shortage of shiny resources to aid us in providing a new lens through which to receive this Advent–hoping it will be the most enriching and spiritually-nourishing yet. This fresh start feels plausible because we have been changed over the past year and understand the Nativity story through a newly-lived experience. I don’t know about you, but I am certainly a different person than the one preparing to welcome the Christ child last year this time; I have been stretched in every sense of the word. Perhaps that resonates with you, too.

And it is good to be reminded that the One we are preparing for was born into a poor family, amidst livestock. Word made flesh, straight into the feed trough. Bread of Life from the very beginning. High hopes, alongside very domesticated ones.

For all the good intentions and high hopes for the peace-filled and spiritually renewing season, it is the nitty-gritty of our every day that the Lord is waiting to enter into. At the risk of domesticating Emmanuel, I invite us to carve our space for that, too. 

Japanese Kintsugi (golden repair) and Navajo weavers who leave intentional flaws in their design, offer tangible reminders of the ways our best efforts, though good and beautiful, necessarily fall short of the perfection we seek. This does not diminish their goodness but accentuates our radical dependence on God. Offered willingly to the One who is perfection, our efforts (and ourselves) will in turn be created anew.

So with confidence we bring our lackluster prayer lives, our uninspiring decor, our fraying favorite sweater, even our sharp edges that bump up against others in the frenzy of holiday preparation, and lay them in the dust of the Creche, asking that this year we might glimpse the startling goodness of our humble offerings. 

//

“Hope is one of my favorite emotions because of its humility. It’s not like gladness or joy which stick around just for the good stuff. Hope is my heart’s missionary– it humbly seeks fear and shame and befriends them. Hope enters the very dusty portals or my heart and clears out the cobwebs, and whispers the promise of perfection.”

//

In other news…

I am thrilled to tell you that I am sharing in collaboration with Mothering Spirit some tender thoughts on Complicated Joy and the way the Lord has been speaking to my heart over the past year.

In case you missed it over at Blessed Is She, I got to share on the Synod and the Paradox of Martin the Merciful. Be on the lookout for a Christmas meditation inspired by one of my favorite artists in December!

Related reflections

A Tale of Two Advents    Light in the Darkness     Thresholds     Playing the Waiting Game

Around the Web

Advent with Oscar Romero, a free resource for Advent Reflections by Cameron Bellm

Mystery Deeper Than Memory, Sacred Remnant

Opportunity to give

I’ve shared my support for Heifer International. If you are inclined, their holiday drive is being TRIPLED this cyber Monday, extended through Tuesday.

Treat Yourself to a movie–

12/10 recommend seeing the first episodes of the Chosen Season 3 in Theaters. Coming in at #3 Thanksgiving weekend. I’d be sad to see you go. But if you want to, you can unsubscribe from here

The post Humble offerings appeared first on Unexpected Honey.

Because I was expecting last year, one of the best gifts I gave myself was a peaceful Advent. I’ve mentioned before that I attempt to prepare as though Christmas were on November 25 so I am not making myself crazy at my favorite time of year, to lean in and slow down. Everybody has their own system and this may not work for you, but if it sounds appealing, here is a list of some ideas worth preparing for and keeping it simple while having a ripple effect on the wider community.

I don’t usually do much regarding shopping ideas because there are a million holiday gift guides (and I’m excited to encourage folks to not spend money), but if you do buy gifts, here are a handful of great organizations with creative missions and thoughtful products.

Something to wear

Empowered Goods— beautiful hand-made jewelry that gives women in Mexico a living wage.

Brick House in the City–Ethically made, Catholic tees for women/men/children. So thoughtful and well-designed! *Watch for Advent devotional here, too.

Bombas– Super comfy socks, and for every pair purchased, one is donated.

Something to Read

**I”ll admit that there is an inverse correlation between night time wakings and reading recommendations.

Give Us This Day— Reflections and daily readings for the Liturgical year; easy to subscribe on someone else’s behalf or provide for someone who is incarcerated.

Evangelization and Culture— beautiful journal put out by the Word on Fire Institute

Pray for Us & Saints Around the World The Saints Around the World book is a favorite at our house. Meg is a knowledgeable and gifted writer who is able to describe the real lives of saints in a way that is tangible.

Become a Patreon supporter for Mothering Spirit, and support the wider mission of ecumenical dialogue and prayerful reflections on parenting. **Reminder: Send yourself and/or a friend on virtual Parable: A Retreat on Change for Ordinary time (held over the lunch hour) October 26-28, Sing a New Song Birth Stories retreat with Mothering Spirit (November 4-6). Other dates yet to be announced.

Hallow-an app for those wanting a variety of prayer and relaxation resources.

Something you want

Blessed is She Advent devotional, 2023 Planner, candles, etc. (Affiliate)

Equal Exchange Coffee, Tea & Chocolate

Cards by Anne

Come Be Our Light matchsticks, perfect for Advent wreaths and small hands.

Advent wreath

10,000 Villages Fair Trade home goods

The Chosen series–I’m still 10/10 recommending this series and anxiously anticipating season 3! You can purchase DVDs for your own viewing or pay it forward for someone else.

Something you need (or something someone else needs)

*Clearly you are the best judge of what you need. But, if you need any help meeting the needs of others, here are some outstanding organizations leading the charge:

International Justice Mission– Working to end human trafficking (modern day slavery)

Catholic Relief Services– Provides humanitarian aid to people in need around the world

Heifer International– teaches farming and agriculture in communities to promote self-sufficiency, education and clean water

Homeboy Industries supports those getting out and staying out of gangs and prison.

//

I’d love to learn about organizations that you support this time of year or any time!

The post Preparing to prepare appeared first on Unexpected Honey.

Recently, our Catholic paper published a fantastic issue centered entirely on the Church’s consistent ethic of life. It served as a good reminder to readers that the pro-life issue encompasses more than abortion, for which I am deeply grateful. As I flipped, I was searching for the resource page for families interested in adoption or making themselves available for foster care; and it was not there. 

It simply is not there.

There is a gaping hole in adoption services within the Church’s consistent ethic of life. I have heard this from hopeful adoptive parents for years, and have been personally frustrated that any hope I have entertained of enlarging our family in this way has been thwarted simply by the expense, or red tape of working through state programming.

For hundreds of years, providing care to children without families (for whatever reason) was the work of the Church. Creating opportunities for those children to be placed in loving homes was a vibrant ministry. This is no longer the case and there is a great deal of collateral damage in terms of families who dream of having children, who cannot. And children who dream of having families, who simply will age out of the system while they wait for the bureaucratic wheels to turn.

Echoes of social work classes I took back in the day have been coming to mind with frequency. There was always a tremendous emphasis placed on the baby boomers who would require resources, care, nurses, etc. in our lifetime. The current systems would experience a surge that would likely push past the breaking point of what the care industry would be able to absorb. We needed to be attuned to this, and ready to step up with creativity and awareness. 

In the wake of the recent Dobb’s decision, I cannot help but feel that we are approaching a very different sort of baby boom. In a new way, it is clear that we are not prepared for the surge of needs that are about to come down the pike, but we haven’t had decades to prepare for it in the same sense. Not that the resources aren’t available, but the systems are simply not in place. Which is shameful as the current number of families in the U.S. waiting to adopt is somewhere between one and two million.

‘Good news and bad news. The good news is we have all the money we need for the project. The bad news is, it’s still in your pockets,’ as my favorite tongue-in-cheek fundraiser put it.

I wonder if you have ever considered adoption as an option? Do you know families who are? If so, you’ll likely know that US private adoptions cost somewhere in the ballpark of $40k. In many cases, the adoptive family is required to make a website advertising their eligibility as a candidate and they can wait years (YEARS) to be matched with a child. That’s if they have the resources to shell out tens of thousands of dollars to expand their family (in addition to time off, paperwork, legal fees, agency fees, etc). What about the families with the desire and space for more children in their homes for whom cost prohibits the very idea of adoption?

Mainstream media is looking to the Church as a first responder in the recent turning of the tide when it comes to abortion laws in the US. ‘What is the Church going to do now that Roe has been overturned?’ I heard in one interview. A wise Archbishop responded: ‘The Church will do what it has always done to accompany women in crisis pregnancy situations, but we cannot do it alone.’ 

During the pandemic, while church buildings had closed their doors, there was an important distinction being made while criticism of churches closings cropped up. ‘The Church isn’t closed–we are the Church!’ That is as true today as it was in the early days of Covid.

In other words, this change is going to ask something of all of us. If we haven’t stepped up our game to support individuals in crisis pregnancy situations already (or any crisis situation), it’s time. 

“What we would like to do is change the world–make it a little simpler for people to feed, clothe, and shelter themselves as God intended them to do. And, by fighting for better conditions, by crying out unceasingly for the rights of the workers, the poor, of the destitute–the rights of the worthy and the unworthy poor, in other words–we can, to a certain extent, change the world; we can work for the oasis, the little cell of joy and peace in a harried world. We can throw our pebble in the pond and be confident that its ever widening circle will reach around the world. We repeat, there is nothing we can do but love, and, dear God, please enlarge our hearts to love each other, to love our neighbor, to love our enemy as our friend.” -― Dorothy Day

The Catholic Church holds all life sacred from conception to natural death and will advocate for life in all circumstances. However, without a major overhaul of accessible adoption options, Catholics (or anyone for that matter) are no more likely to avail themselves for the impending baby boom, no matter how pure and deep the desire to do so might be. It will simply remain out of reach. I suspect this is where the creativity of the Body of Believers is needed most urgently.

Instead of go fund me pages and yard sales, what if families could go to their parish and request financial assistance to become certified foster families, or to help fund adoptions? Creativity & awareness.

I think the good Archbishop is right about one thing, it is going to take everyone re-thinking and stepping up to support the women, men, and children most intimately affected by the Dobbs verdict who find themselves in uncharted waters; coincidentally that has a ripple effect. That might mean finding a local pregnancy center to support, accompanying families walking through new parenthood, or the emotional road of placing a child for adoption. At its core, I think living into this new era as the Body of Believers begs the question of each of us: 

Why not us? Could we make room for one more? 

Because at its core, that’s what love does. It makes room where there was none (think Advent). A longer table; more water in the soup. What greater witness could we offer than to open our own homes so that all would know the love of family (and that doesn’t just imply babies)? That instead of laws that are strictly pro-birth, we could embrace the all-encompassing title of pro-life. What if we resembled the shocking community of the early church that found people slack-jawed in its wake, murmuring: ‘Look how they love one another.’

There is no such thing as other people’s children. This is a reality I find myself grappling with in a new way. Maybe you do, too?

(For further inspiration, listen to The Highwomen’s Crowded Table) 

The post Longer Tables appeared first on Unexpected Honey.

Nearly 55% of water usage in the Denver metro goes directly to watering lawns. To wean residents from this irresponsible practice, our city offers grants to homeowners interested in reducing their lawns. I applied for this (free plants) and was delighted to learn that we qualified. Especially on the heels of our construction project that has left our yard in shambles, having a budget and experts from our local botanic gardens to tell me what and where to plant was a dream. 

Of course, the idea of xeriscaping is that the plants are drought tolerant/resistant and can thrive in an environment where rain is a rare gift. I have been thinking about this since we evacuated our home last December due to the raging wildfires just north of us. As temperatures steadily increase and major reservoirs continue to recede, all efforts feel worthwhile to curb these wasteful trends.

I have been giving some thought to what it means to be drought tolerant vs. drought resistant. After all, drought doesn’t only apply to vegetation or climate. Drought is an apt description of our spiritual lives, creative lives, and sometimes love lives. A nursing mother’s milk supply will eventually dry up. Our money can metaphorically evaporate; wells, ponds, and oil reserves can all dry up. You get the idea.

Physical processes like wetlands-turning-prairie demonstrate a natural progression, while disappearing reservoirs provide an indicator, like a canary in a coal mine. The good news is that we have a choice to make for ourselves: To tolerate or to resist?

Drought resistance or tolerance is a broader term applied to plant species with adaptive features that enable them to escape, avoid, or tolerate drought stress (Levitt, 1980). From: Climate Change and Crop Stress, 2022

This seems a timely question to ask ourselves as a species: Do we plant what we know will tolerate the heat, the difficult seasons, and harsh conditions while fostering the good that is already here now; or plant what we wish and water it, indiscriminately because it delights us and that is what will yet allow it to thrive in the future.

Already and not yet. God is both.

There is something to be said for each approach. Either way, the end goal reflects the One who is Life–attending to the details specifically as they are, while lavishing generously, encouraging a flourishing life without counting the cost.

Under it all, I keep hoping for some garden wisdom to speak to me when my spirit feels parched and wilted like it has a lot this year. What about the long-standing scenarios I didn’t choose to plant, that break my heart wide open and drain the life from me? When the resistance is as abrasive and hurtful in the wake of something good taking root–How do I tolerate that? When the cries and hurts of a broken world all rise up together, what’s left to do but tend what is good and douse it all lavishly, generously, and indiscriminately?

At the end of the day everything needs a drink. 

Lord make me a vessel to carry water into a thirsty world.

The post Drought-resistant appeared first on Unexpected Honey.

There is something greater than Jonah here. –Matthew 12:41

Let me tell you something about Jonah. I have a love/hate relationship with him. Not that he isn’t a great Prophet or anything. It’s just that irritation we recognize as a result of *those* people who remind us of our own faults. They rub us the wrong way.

I have a vivid memory stored in my mind of a girls’ weekend during grad school where I snuck away with friends to rest/eat/drink/marvel at the work we had been about. Many of us were wrapping up capstone projects; one was carrying a new life. We were deep in discernment around what was to come next, and getting away and into the quiet of the snowy woods felt good.

The time away was balm for my spirit–driving home, less so

Along the way, someone had been learning about the enneagram. It really can be a wonderful tool  to help identify strengths and weaknesses for self-reflection or group work. She pulled it out during the drive home for the fun of it.

While we took our little inventories and scored ourselves based on preferences and natural tendencies, I quickly identified myself as a “nine;” the peace-maker. This was not at all surprising. If anything it was an affirmation of what I knew to be true about myself after twenty-odd trips around the sun.

As we talked about the ‘fit’ of our characteristics, we began reading about the Scripture that might shed the most light on our gifts and ‘growing edges.’ You already know what’s coming. My Scripture story: You Guessed it.

Jonah. The man God asked to save Nineveh. Jonah the great prophet, who out of fear of the task set before him, hops a ship to run away from God’s call. Not only that, when his shipmates figure out who he is running from, they send him overboard at which time he is swallowed by a whale. All before he gets up the gumption to do what it is that was being asked of him, and is promptly dispatched from the belly of the whale to go and get to work.

Sweet humility: Jonah is my Scriptural personality twin

Regardless of his slow start, once he gets moving, Jonah has tremendous success. Nineveh is a huge city—one that takes three days to walk through. “Forty more days and Nineveh will fall,” is the unpopular message he’d been told to share. As a peacemaker, I feel for him roaming about with this message. No one in Nineveh wanted to hear that. But, because of Jonah’s obedience and (eventual) courage, the Ninevites and their king put on sackcloth, fasted, and repented. Having witness their metanoia, God did not carry out the evil that He intended (Jonah 1-2).

//

Take-aways

1. Growing up, I always heard that having the kinds of folks in our lives who happen to irk us, is in fact a good reminder of how not to behave. I believe it–there is hope for growth in each of us. *Though truthfully, I still squirm a bit even when I see illustrations in children’s Bible stories of Jonah inside the belly of a whale!
2. Particularly when God is guiding any of us toward something—regardless of how uncomfortable or unprepared we feel for the endeavor ahead—our level of anxiety is not proportionate to its impending failure. Sure, it is possible. But, more often than not, if God is leading the venture, failure wasn’t on the table to begin with.

Just as Jonah was in the belly of the whale three days and three nights, so will the Son of Man be in the heart of the earth three days and three nights. At the judgment, the men of Nineveh will arise with this generation and condemn it, because they repented at the preaching of Jonah; and there is something greater than Jonah here.

Matthew 12:40-41

As we continue to embrace to affects of Holy week, Jonah might be a fitting companion. For all his faults, Jonah does know a thing or two about cooperating with God in unimaginable and salvific circumstances; which is our invitation, too. The process of dying to ourselves to rise is Paschal mystery in a nutshell.

Summoning courage

In the spirit of summoning courage to begin something new that I have been putting off for a while, I am inviting you to take part with me in a deep-dive into Catholic Social Teaching. My hope is to dig into these tenets of our faith has been with me for years now, and I am finally ready to do it and am hoping that you’ll join me!

Click here to join us for bi-monthly deep-dive into the social teachings of the Church!

I’m making these reflections available to subscribers only, so please subscribe. I would really appreciate it if you would invite others who might enjoy a closer look at some fantastic content and giveaways!

//

This post is part of a blog hop by Spoken Women, an online community of Catholic women nurturing their creative callings. Click here to view the next post in this series “Something Greater.” *

The post Jonah, my personality twin appeared first on Unexpected Honey.