Noted #12

purgation, buried alleluias, spring, and troughs

Greetings from the stomach flu Armageddon. We are still kicking. Barely.

I’m sure we’re not the only ones dealing with our fair share of Lenten miseries, but this has been purgation to the nth degree. I jest, but it’s actually quite alarming to see your children this sick, and we’ve had our hands full with laundry, washing bowls, and trying to coax people to sip little bits of fluid, and attempt nibbles of toast. Since we’re not going anywhere soon, these thoughts are my grasp at sanity in between drink deliveries and switching the movie¹. Pray for those of us standing to remain unaffected please.

buried alleluias

I think we want to look away from death. I gulp every Ash Wednesday when my children are marked with ashes. This piece from Lyndsey Medford was honest and beautiful. Rest in peace, Eva Joan.

But I am glad to be in Lent because it’s not a time for knowing. It’s a time for waiting, watching, witnessing. For five damn seconds to quit rejoicing, because the truth is death comes before resurrection, and the truth is it fucking hurts.

We’re maybe supposed to be getting holier, but in the end all we can really do is pray that God is working somewhere under our skin, deep in the dark, to make something from nothing and bring it to birth. The world is so harsh, and we are so small.

We walk through forty days of ashes alongside the Man of Sorrows on the way to Jerusalem, to execution. We hope that in the darkness, the Spirit is there.

bury the alleluias

Spring is coming!

On a more cheerful note, we discovered a crabapple tree in our front yard, and it is beautiful. One of my favorite perks of moving to a new house in the dead of winter is the excitement of discovering what wakes up in the spring. When we moved to the mountains of Wyoming in February, there were snowdrifts several feet deep outside our window. That spring we got to witness the fickleness of mountain spring. It would warm up, there would be rivulets of water flowing down the hills, and then the next day there would be a blizzard. Sometimes you almost despaired of spring ever coming! Driving to town took us through three microclimates as we went from 7,000 feet to 9,000 feet and then back down to around 5,000, and we had to figure out how to dress to be ten degrees warmer when we were running errands. I don’t miss how hard it was to live so far away from everything with small children, but I don’t know if I will ever get over how beautiful that spring was².

the view from near the top of the pass, early flowers, the gated pipe in Spring was quite the site, a foggy day, all the cow/calf pairs that started dotting the pastures on the way to town, and finally real flowers in June

Humiliation

I guess humiliation often looks like feeling helpless, not knowing things, not being competent, and not having answers. I so much want to be seen as someone who is doing the right thing, can get it together, is efficient, is effective. Instead, I’m tired, stymied, cleaning up bodily fluids, already behind in my garden plans, impatient and irritable, seeing all the ick come out of myself.

I keep thinking of these lines of the Litany of Humility, which pack the same punch every time I pray them:

O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, hear me.

…

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

Screwtape

“It is during such trough periods, much more than the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in the state of dryness are those which please Him best…He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there he is pleased even with their stumbles… Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending to do our Enemy’s will, looks round a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.” (The Screwtape Letters, p. 40)

I guess this passage hits me periodically, because here I am writing about it two years ago:

epic quests and deep troughs

As I was thinking about this post, I started laughing a bit, because this is the song that came to mind, “We’re not gonna take it, we’re not gonna take it…”I’m sure the theology is suspect if you pick it apart, but you get the point.

That’s how I feel right now. I am not about to sit down and take it. I’ve seen my boys suit up for their backyard battles, and I think they’ve got the right idea. I can be prone to wallowing in my misery, and feeling sorry for myself, but lately I’ve had this growing conviction that I do not want to give up even one inch. You can’t have my kids, you can’t have my marriage, you can’t have me, and I’m not giving up. Now, in practice this looks a lot like Peter jumping into the Sea of Galilee. I’m either walking on water or I am floundering and gasping for breath, feeling like I might die — there’s no in between.

Purgation

If there was an appropriate liturgical season for the stomach flu, I guess it would be Lent, but I also don’t think it was quite what St. John of the Cross had in mind in this passage on purgation.

For the greater clearness of what has been said, and of what has still to be said, it is well to observe at this point that this purgative and loving knowledge or Divine light whereof we here speak acts upon the soul which it is purging and preparing for perfect union with it in the same way as fire acts upon a log of wood in order to transform it into itself; for material fire, acting upon wood, first of all begins to dry it, by driving out its moisture and causing it to shed the water which it contains within itself. Then it begins to make it black, dark and unsightly, and even to give forth a bad odour, and, as it dries it little by little, it brings out and drives away all the dark and unsightly accidents which are contrary to the nature of fire. And, finally, it begins to kindle it externally and give it heat, and at last transforms it into itself and makes it as beautiful as fire. (Dark Night of the Soul, p. 65)

Let’s just say life feels a bit like someone is trying to start a fire with very damp logs over here.

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Children’s Literature Corner

“I going to be a ballerina and be married?”

Perhaps I have Angelina Ballerina and a recent wedding to thank for this frequent query. Angelina Ballerina is a classic. I was so excited to introduce these books to our library now that we have a little lady to enjoy them. The boys will still sit and listen, but they’re not overly enthused by these. However, I have core memories of Angelina Ballerina³— guys! the one where she gets sick and can’t dance! It’s so sad! I also think this first book is so relatable as a parent. Sometimes a kid just drives you crazy with their hobby until they get an outlet. I was the child who pestered my parents for a violin at five years old, convincing them that I wanted to play that one. It’s fun to see what holds our children’s interests, although then sometimes a little sad when they don’t share ours! I’ll also never understand how some of my favorite children’s book series feature mice when I despise them so much in real life, but such is the power of whimsy and charming illustrations. I’m all for mouseling ballerinas.

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Lately:

crabapple blossoms, chickens picking up the pace, birthday cupcakes, the most industrious child, cabbages, birthday girl pre-plague

Reading: I am on the third book in the Crazy Rich Asians series and read them all this week… make of that what you will. The book equivalent of vapid TV. I watched the movie version on our last flight coming home, and actually really enjoyed it.

Garden: I had all my beds prepped… and then… Oh well. My seeds were late anyway. Planting this weekend, I hope!

Prayers for all you readers — I had to laugh at this post referencing the Lenten “low level demons”. It’s so real, but Easter is coming.

1. One of the worst parts of having everyone down at once is that no one can agree on the movie selection. We cancelled our Disney+ a few weeks ago… which was going to be great when I just sent everyone outside. Alas. Opportunities for growth in virtue abound.

2. This little phase of life probably deserves its own set of stories. Sometimes looking at these pictures hurts, because we do not have this kind of beauty here. Will the mountain West always feel the most like home? And then in the same breath I remember how freaking COLD I was and how much I dislike driving on ice. You just can’t win it all.

3. I’m also really excited to have someone with whom to share Anne of Green Gables and Little Women. They’re books that just aren’t as interesting to my crew of boys.