Kathleen M. Basi's Blog, page 46

Stream of Consciousness

Random unconnected cute kid picture, taken at prayer time last night. One kid sick, another getting sick.

For the second day in a row I am blank when it comes time to write a blog post. Last week was a real doozy of a productivity-killer…to wit: Monday was Presidents Day, and not only were the kids off school but we had eight inches of snow, too, and Christian worked from home, and somehow all those factors combined to intensify the feeling that it was impossible to do any work. Tuesday Michael had to stay home sick. Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, and between uncleared parking places, a longer-than-expected Mass, and carpool, I gave up all but about an hour of work time. Thursday it was bitterly cold, and the district called a late start, which meant Michael didn’t have school again.

The weekend involved birthday parties and piano recitals and two NFP presentations and one very, very sick husband.

So by the time this week rolled around I was ready for a focused, productive week, and I did not want to waste time and brain band width coming up with something profoundly personal to share on my blog. Luckily I am responsible for hosting an online book club discussion this week, and that provided me a good blog post. (Incidentally, have you checked in at the WF Café? You don’t have to have read the book—in fact, she’s giving away a copy to a FB commenter on Friday!)

But here I am, writing Wednesday’s post as I often do, sitting at Alex’s piano lesson, and I am at least as worn down as I was two days ago. Again with the sick child staying home from school…and now it’s working its way through my system, too.

So here I am, stream-of-consciousness writing. I would love to write about the novel-writing process, because it’s intensely interesting…to me. I know it’s not so interesting to those of you who come here, though. I thought about lifting all my Facebook/Twitter updates from the past few days, because the kids have been full of laughable-and-face-palm-able moments lately. But a good number of you see those on, yanno, Facebook and Twitter.

I thought about doing a Wordless Wednesday post, but the truth is I haven’t been taking pictures lately.

I thought about trying to process a very emotional experience I had this weekend, but I decided it wasn’t meant to be public.

I thought about sharing how our chore rotation is going in the house, but I realized it boils down to: it’s not perfect, but we’re cleaner than we were, by a long shot. And I think I would be insufferable if I tried to expand that into a full post. Almost as insufferable as the people who post recipes online and waste 2000 words rhapsodizing and showing pictures of ingredients before they deign to share the ingredient list.

Pretend you’re asleep, kids.

I thought about finding some wonderful quote and figuring out how people make those lovely memes with words overlying an image. (Incidentally, if you know where to go to do that…with legal images…please share in the comments.) But I realized immediately that I would spend at least as long figuring out how to do that.

Alex’s lesson is coming to an end, and Julianna is singing “Stay Awake” to Ken and Barbie, who have gone to bed on a wooden bed. Followed by a rousing chorus of “Just A Spoonful of Sugar.” So I apologize for this boring, rambling post, which basically does nothing except prove that I really am a Type-A’s Type-A who cannot skip a day when I am “supposed” to blog. I’m allowed to ramble once in a while. Right?

A Different Kind of Book Club

This week, I am hosting/moderating an online book discussion about Lisa Verge Higgins’ novel, Random Acts of Kindness:

With the remnants of her past rattling in the trunk of her Chevy, Jenna Elliott abandons her Seattle home determined to start life anew. Her journey compels her to the door of two friends: Claire, an ex-Buddhist nun and cancer survivor, eager to escape her overbearing family for what may be her last chance to fulfill a dream; and Nicole, a professional Life Coach who can’t even control her own teenage son. But what starts out as an impulsive road trip soon becomes an inexorable journey to their past, as the women grapple with who they were, who they are, and the strange twists that have now set them on the road to their hometown of Pine Lake. There, Jenna discovers that her random act of kindness has rippled out into the world like a stone dropped into a deep pond, coming back to rock her life—and those of her friends—in ways they never expected.

It’s a little different than most book clubs. We don’t expect you to have read the book. In fact, we just want to encourage people to come over and meet the author and visit with others about how this idea–random acts of kindness–has played out in your life.

I’ll be posting questions for Lisa Verge Higgins midmorning every day, and in the afternoon she’ll be asking us to share on topics close to her heart and the heart of the book. And what Cafe week would be complete without a book giveaway? Leave a comment on any of the discussion threads and you’ll be entered for a drawing!

If you enjoy fiction, I hope you’ll spend this week with me at the Women’s Fiction Cafe.

Road Rage And Other Rage

Photo by Tony Fischer Photography, via Flickr

Three times in recent weeks, I have drawn the ire of other drivers. It’s enough to make me soul-search whether the problem really is me.

The first time, I’d turned the engine off at a long light and the car behind me wasn’t happy with the extra second it took me to get moving forward when the light did finally change. No brief tap of the horn for her; no, she expressed her displeasure with a protracted blare and then tailgated me for the next mile. I got a speeding ticket on that stretch of road a few years ago, so I always keep my speed under control there…but I admit I took great pleasure in doing so that afternoon.

The second time, I was preparing to turn left off a two-lane highway. I’d started to lean left when I realized the oncoming car was close and moving fast, so I decided it would be safer to wait. The pickup behind me leaned on his horn….and held it…the entire time the car was approaching and passing. I thought that was beyond obnoxious, so I deliberately waited an extra second to turn, just to make the point. Which caused him to continue holding the horn the entire time I turned left, and for about a tenth of a mile after he roared on down the highway.

The third time, I had a car full of kids, not all of them mine, and I exited the interstate to find the left-turn lane unusually backed up. After about four minutes I realized the sensor was malfunctioning and we weren’t going to get a green light at all. Waiting wasn’t an option. I had to take the carpool kids home and get back to our house before Julianna’s bus. The solution was to pull into the right-turn lane instead and find a place to turn around somewhere down the street.

I couldn’t see around the traffic behind me, so I poked my nose out far enough to give me a sight line. And then I stopped, because there was a car flying up the ramp. I let him get past and then pulled out behind him.

As he sat waiting to turn right, he fisted me a predictable middle finger. And then, apparently deciding my lack of reaction meant I hadn’t seen it, he did it again.

All this has me evaluating my own habit of assuming the worst of other drivers. We all think whatever speed we’re driving is the right one, whether it’s below, at or over the speed limit. If someone wants to go faster they’re obviously bad drivers in far too much of a hurry. If someone’s going slower than we want to go, they’re obviously bad drivers who shouldn’t be on the road at all. When I’m running late I blame everyone else for holding me up—how dare they?–even though, hello, it’s my lateness that’s causing my stress. It’s no one’s fault, and more importantly no one’s problem, but my own.

It’s so easy to let little things get under our skin. Too often, too many of us (myself included) walk around with a general sense of rage at a constant simmer, just looking for an excuse to erupt…and in some cases, for an excuse to pick a fight. (Facebook, I’m looking at you.) I can’t tell you how many times I’ve written a snarky, provocative comment on Facebook, thinking it’s my God-given right to opine, and teeter on the edge of “submit” for agonizing seconds before selecting all and deleting.

There are times—like this week—that seem to overflow with irritations and inconveniences. They challenge my resolve to “treasure” the good and brush off the bad. So maybe it’s a good thing to get honked at and flipped the finger occasionally. Because the jarring overreaction it represents reminds me what’s at stake.

The Fasting Isn’t The Most Important Thing

Even the desert isn’t completely devoid of life. Photo by Moyan_Brenn, via Flickr

In February of 1995 I crashed over the edge of an emotional cliff when the relationship I was involved in ended without warning. (Actually, there was plenty of warning, I was just too naïve, i.e. clueless, to recognize the signs.)

The months leading up to that emotional cliff, I was as far from my faith as I ever got in my life. Which—let’s be honest–wasn’t very far. Still, part of my recovery involved a conscious turning back to God, to the neglected spiritual core of who I was.

It was an awful semester, and when Lent came around, the one thing I knew was that I did not need to give anything up, because I already had. I’d been in my Lenten desert for several weeks already, and forcing food down my throat and concentrating on my studies and my practicing required every ounce of spiritual discipline I possessed at that point in my life.

Twelve years later, I was happily married to a man whose family always gave up sweets, and come hell or high water his family was going to do the same. I also had a newborn with what, at least at that time (though it doesn’t anymore), felt like a devastating diagnosis: Down syndrome. My world was reeling when Lent began that year.

5 ½ weeks postpartum, Julianna got sick. As in, near death sick. As in, on a ventilator with oxygen saturation plunging to the 40s sick.

Let’s do the math: recovering from a C-section + grieving the Ds diagnosis + postpartum hormones + child near death + oh yes….Lent.

There was a day, that first week, when my mother took me and toddler Alex to the grocery store, and he kept pointing to the empty spot in the van and shouting, “Beebee! Beebee!” It almost undid me. When we finished shopping at Aldi, the DQ sign across the street was like a beacon. “Let’s go get ice cream,” I said. And despite being the poster child for Catholic guilt, I felt not one twinge for breaking my Lenten fast.

Today is Opening Day for Lent. All over the world people are asking each other, “What are you giving up for Lent?” Even people who hardly ever think about the faith at other times. And too many of us who do practice the faith approach this season with a deep breath and gritted teeth and an unspoken thought: Just get through it.

But “giving up” is a really limited view of Lent. If you spend the next 6 ½ weeks dwelling on how miserable you are, thinking the greater the misery, the greater the righteousness, you’re missing the point. Sacrifice that does not see beyond one’s empty stomach or missing expletives is not focused in the right place.

Lent is a time to set aside the distractions that keep us from seeing what’s most important. It’s a time to clean house, spiritually speaking–to reorganize and make everything homey and sparkly and welcoming. And although it’s hard work, there can be satisfaction in it—perhaps even pleasure–if you approach it with a good attitude.

Last year I felt overwhelmed by life. Lent turned into a sort of tug-of-war between my earthly obligations and the call to scour the spiritual floors, with me the rope fraying in the middle. This year is blessedly un-dramatic….so far, anyway. And so I recommit to Lent…to the search for the Godly within me.

From the Archives: October 2011

RAnn, of This, That & The Other Thing, has been having fun digging into her archives lately, and she invited us to join in. It’s been so much fun to read her favorites that I decided that was the perfect way to end this cooped-up, snowy, non-productive day: just have some fun.

In October 2011 I was waxing philosophical over family. Mostly my children….

A holy moment with Nicholas in line for confession…

A reflection on Julianna’s laugh, which seems particularly appropriate to re-share today since she sat on my lap to read “Bear Snores On” earlier today and I was just melting over her silvery giggle again…

I was also coming up on Michael’s birth, which caused a whole different kind of reflection. The freaking out kind. In fact, two of them. ….

…but I also had time to post about something I realized about my dad, and how much like him I am. ….

…and a quintessential writer-mama moment: the editorial meeting with kids in tow. Kids who haven’t napped. :)

If this sounds like fun, head on over to RAnn’s place for more!

The Blame Game

Every time something bad happens, the biggest topic of (cough-cough) “discussion” is: whose fault is it?

It may be a natural human tendency, but it does nothing to solve the problem at hand. Trying to boil everything down to whose fault it is leads to an all-or-nothing approach to complex problems. That ensures one thing: that nothing will ever be solved. Because as long as we are focused on how it’s someone ELSE’s problem, it absolves us of any responsibility to address the larger issues. And whether we want to admit it or not, there are always larger issues at play whenever a hot button topic comes up. But too often, attempts to open up those larger issues devolves into accusations of “blaming the victim.”

Photo via Pixabay

And that’s a shame, because the biggest, most important issues the human race faces do not exist in a vacuum. People’s choices and behaviors are influenced by a complex series of factors that include their personal experiences, their racial/communal memory, their philosophical and/or religious convictions (or lack thereof), the tone and bias of the news and commentary they encounter, and the society-wide messaging–which frequently pits very contradictory values against each other (i.e.: violence is bad, but violence in entertainment is good. Women are to be respected, except when showing them as sex objects will separate you from your money for a truck, a value meal, or a can of beer).

When we start talking about appropriate or inappropriate use of police force or about sexual assault, to name two, we cannot pretend these other factors do not have an impact. Violations to human dignity are everywhere, from the big and sensational to the way we entertain ourselves and even to the way we interact in comboxes and on Facebook. The problems are systemic, and they often go unacknowledged until they manifest in sensational (i.e. horrific) ways. But sensational or systemic and unseen, the problems are all tied together. If we are ever to make a difference, we have to address the larger context in which the individual violations occur. And the more time we waste hurling accusations about whose “fault” it is, the more ingrained those violations become.

When there are society-wide issues, the solutions have to be society-wide. But when we assign a problem to a macro level, we tend to forget that macro solutions involve a micro level, too. Big violations feel beyond our control, but big violations are built upon billions of little ones, and some of those happen in our schools and communities and even in our own hearts. And those, we can do something about. We have to have the tough conversations with our kids, because if we don’t, their attitudes will be formed by that conglomerate, in de facto ways, instead of deliberately, by those of us who love them. We have to examine our consciences for the ways we could act and don’t, or the ways in which we do act and shouldn’t.

When it comes to the societal problems that outrage us in the news, we all have a responsibility. That doesn’t mean it’s our fault. It means we have the power to impact the world for the better in some small way by the way we speak and the choices we make.

It’s time to stop playing the blame game and look for solutions.

True Love Looks Like…

Photo by CatDancing, via Flickr

True love looks like deciding together not to bother with cards for Valentine’s Day, since we always forget anyway.

True love looks like arguing over college funding, ten years in advance.

True love looks like straightening the living room before piano students arrive.

True love looks like crying in each other’s arms at the words “chromosomal abnormality.”

True love looks like calling down your spouse when they are out of line.

True love looks like taking a deep breath and redirecting when your spouse calls you down for being out of line.

True love looks like fifteen years of NFP charts and the medical/lifestyle work that made them settle down into a normal, healthy pattern.

True love looks like taking bath duty. Or lawn-mowing duty. Or making-lunches duty.

True love looks like 5:30 a.m. exercise calls to stay fit and healthy enough to enjoy each other for years to come.

True love looks like lots and lots of Tiger Balm rubbed into troubled muscles.

True love looks like using your knees to give your wife a backrub when your hands have given out.

Photo by Nancy D. Regan, via Flickr

True love looks like no difference between “mine” and “ours.”

True love looks like choosing not to keep score of who’s done what and whose turn it is.

True love is continuing to look for a way to grow spiritually together, even when it’s not easy to find time or resources that work.

True love looks like turning off the TV and computer to talk.

True love looks like setting aside my to-do list because what you need done is more important right now.

True love looks like growth.

True love looks like self-emptying.

True love has no idea on Day One what it’s going to look like on Day 5475, let alone Day 18,250.

True love identifies itself by adapting, and changing, and deepening over time. By becoming less and less about “me,” and more and more about “you” and “us.”

True love is not very sexy to look at…but it gives life.

Image by Shena Pamella, via Flickr

What does true love look like for you?

In Which We Need Your Help, Because Prayer In Marriage is HARD.

Photo by fotosiggi, via Flickr

The hardest thing about marriage, as far as I’m concerned, is praying together. My husband is deeply uncomfortable with extemporaneous vocal prayer, and over time I’ve come, not only to understand, but to agree. Praying aloud, I almost always become too self-aware, drift too close to showing off, as long as there is another person around to hear me. I remember a friend talking about “bouncing prayers off Heaven”–Lord, please help so-and-so do such-and-such, because I know s/he is capable of fill-in-the-blank.

So we’ve really struggled. Formula prayers, for us, run toward distraction, and rattling them off actually accomplishes very little prayer at all. Scripture reading leaves us frustrated because we want to be able to pull apart what it means and we are deeply unsatisfied with every resource we’ve tried so far.

More recently, we’ve read books. And God Said What? was a rare bright spot in our shared spiritual life, but although we understood the Scripture examples she laid out in the book, we don’t know how to go about systematically applying the lessons to other passages. The last couple of weeks we started watching a video series called Symbolon which our parish made available, but as much as I want to like it, mostly our mutual reaction has been to feel underwhelmed.

We are pretty well educated in our faith. But we want to go deeper. We want to know why: the historical context, the reasons behind the traditions and teachings–the rational basis, not the because-I-said-so. But it seems that everything we find is either dry and academic*, devoid of a real-life faith connection, or it’s aimed at people whose faith formation was cut off at the level of multiple choice tests. In other words, it’s basic stuff we already know and/or touchy-feely me-n-Jesus. Both of those are great and necessary things in the world, but it’s not what we need.

This is where you come in, my lovely readers.

Surely, among all my Catholic friends, someone has encountered the very thing we need. How do you pray in your marriages? What books or resources–daily reflections, online resources, Scripture commentaries–actually draw the connection between the historical context, the tradition, and real life? Writings of the saints that you’ve found worthwhile reading?

Please share!

*Dry and academic will work for me, personally, because I’m kind of geeky that way, but not for us communally.

Lifting The Veil

Image by *jay~bay*, via Flickr

Saturday morning, Christian and I provided music for a funeral at our parish. The man was our age and had school-age children, and it was impossible to avoid the recognition of just how fragile is the reality we cling to, how quickly it can change, and truly, how blessed we are to have what we have–even when all we see is stress and worry and emptiness.

It was the first time I have sung “Shepherd Me, O God” in public since my grandmother’s funeral (can it be a year and a half already?), a fact of which I was very aware as I skirted the coffin and made my way up the sanctuary steps for the psalm. Very, very aware of exactly where I fell apart singing it for Grandma. Praying for the grace to keep it together. I did…mostly. But I couldn’t make eye contact with the assembly as I usually do.

Following that celebration, the day unfolded in a blur of chaos. I never changed out of my gray dress because our choir was providing music for Saturday evening Mass. It’s been a very long time (though not nearly long enough!) since I wore pantyhose for a full day. In between those two Masses, we had two birthday parties and a playdate to chauffeur our children to, and I had to have a confrontation with Staples over a large print order they had messed up. Two confrontations, in fact.

And throughout the busy-ness of preparing meals and negotiating trade settlements between children, getting the preschooler changed out of his ripped clothes and into semi-passable clothing for church, and the barely-under-control behavior of the kids during church (they do NOT do well at 5:30 in the evening!), the awareness stayed with me. How thin is the veil between our crazy-busy ordinary and the loss of it all. A single diagnosis, a moment’s lost concentration on the road, can change the trajectory of our ordinary forever. How rarely we stop to take stock of what we’ve been given, and put into perspective the petty irritations and stresses that occupy our waking hours.

Saturday evening, when the kids were finally in bed and Christian and I were sitting in front of the TV, I leaned my head over to rest against his, felt the warmth radiating from him, the softness of skin, the roughness of the coarse, whitening hair at his temples. And for a few moments I let the veil blow away and saw my life in all its beauty and fragility, and thanked God for what I have.

This Is Real Life

Everyone was so sweet yesterday about my post, I felt I might be leaving a little too one-sided an impression of my life. I would never want to be one of Those Bloggers who makes everyone else feel insecure because their home is not characterized by crabapple blossoms in a soft white blur.

So today, in the interest of balance, I present:

The Other Side of My Life.

Judging by the overturned furniture and general level of destruction, the Avengers have been in my basement. Thor’s hammer is just the last piece of evidence. Wait a minute! THERE’S that school library book that’s almost a week overdue! I had to take a picture to find it.

Michael was SO determined to cross days off the Disney calendar, which hung here…he just sort of missed. About ten times.

Face Palm. I think this may be the reason all my scrapbooking markers have dried up.

What’s wrong with these shoelaces? This is what I found every day for two weeks.

Loader tractors are meant for dumping Legos Ev.Er.Y.Where.

It is the Great Lego Sea, with Fort Little People on its shores. Yowza! Is that a DEAD BABY DOLL???????

Blog-reading mommies, do you all feel a little better now? ;)