Mary DeTurris Poust's Blog, page 52

Holy Trinity as model of spiritual friendship

On this Feast of the Holy Trinity, I thought I’d share this excerpt on the ways the Father-Son-Spirit model for us what spiritual friendship and right relationship are all about. This is from Walking Together: Discovering the Catholic Tradition of Spiritual Friendship. 

St. Francis de Sales, the seventeenth-century bishop who wrote extensively about spiritual friendship, says that the kind of unconditional love we all crave has existed in the most perfect form since before time began in the relationship of the Holy Trinity. If there is one ultimate model of spiritual friendship, it is found in the relationship of the Father, Son, and Spirit. But what does that mean for those of us hoping to nurture a transcendent kind of love right here on earth? It means that even if we can never achieve a divine level of pure love, we still hold the Trinity up as the example of perfect friendship. The Trinity can teach us how to be more loving in our relationships, much the same way Christ teaches us how to live the gospel without reservation.

…We cannot achieve an exact replica because we are not divine. But St. Francis de Sales explains that we can, in fact, find something of ourselves mirrored in that “infinite friendship” because we are made in God’s image. (Walking Together, Chapter 2)

Trinity icon image above by Andrei Rublev.

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Pope Francis: We are not meant to be “controllers” of the faith. We are meant to open doors.

Pope Francis’ homily today was so good, I had to post about it immediately. Every time I read something this pope says, it’s proof to me the Spirit is alive and well for sure because this Church needed this pope at this moment. And here he is. When I read this homily, I joked that Pope Francis must have visited one of my former parishes because the scenes he describes are right out of Catholic central casting. Unfortunately. Like this story:

“Think of the good Christians, with good will, we think about the parish secretary, a secretary of the parish … ‘Good evening, good morning, the two of us – boyfriend and girlfriend – we want to get married.’ And instead of saying, ‘That’s great!’. They say, ‘Oh, well, have a seat. If you want the Mass, it costs a lot … ‘ This, instead of receiving a good welcome- It is a good thing to get married! ‘- But instead they get this response:’ Do you have the certificate of baptism, all right …’ And they find a closed door. When this Christian and that Christian has the ability to open a door, thanking God for this fact of a new marriage … We are many times controllers of faith, instead of becoming facilitators of the faith of the people.”

How many times have you heard of people you know being turned away in exactly this manner, or worse? I know quite a few. In fact, I’m related to some. It’s painful and it drives a wedge between the People of God and the Church on the whim of the person at the front desk, all in the name of the letter of the law over the heart of the law. And we know how Jesus felt about that.

Here’s another quote from the pope’s homily:

“Think about a single mother who goes to church, in the parish and to the secretary she says: ‘I want my child baptized’. And then this Christian, this Christian says: ‘No, you cannot because you’re not married!’. But look, this girl who had the courage to carry her pregnancy and not to return her son to the sender, what is it? A closed door! This is not zeal! It is far from the Lord! It does not open doors! And so when we are on this street, have this attitude, we do not do good to people, the people, the People of God, but Jesus instituted the seven sacraments with this attitude and we are establishing the eighth: the sacrament of pastoral customs!”

“Jesus is indignant when he sees these things” – said the Pope – because those who suffer are “his faithful people, the people that he loves so much”

“We think today of Jesus, who always wants us all to be closer to Him, we think of the Holy People of God, a simple people, who want to get closer to Jesus and we think of so many Christians of goodwill who are wrong and that instead of opening a door they close the door of goodwill … So we ask the Lord that all those who come to the Church find the doors open, find the doors open, open to meet this love of Jesus. We ask this grace. “

Have I mentioned that I love this pope. He knows exactly what our Church needs to hear. I only hope everyone is listening. And by “everyone” I don’t mean just the people in the pews. I mean the people who have the power to make decisions that will change things — like the pastors who can make sure no couple comes to their door and leaves feeing unwanted, like the bishops who can make sure the pastors they appoint truly want to bring people to Jesus not just get through a few years to a new appointment or retirement with as little effort and interest and connection as possible.

The people are hungry for God. Pope Francis knows this. The people know this. Not sure how everyone in between missed the memo.

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Soba noodle salad with radishes and snap peas

This is a yummy salad that’s easy to make and really tasty. The last time I made it, we had it alongside some Trader Joe’s dumplings and spring rolls. It was a quick dinner that felt gourmet, sort of a semi-homemade kind of thing. Four out of five people at our house loved it, which is pretty good for us. It’s perfect as a side dish for supper or as a main course for lunch.

Here you go…

Ingredients: 

9 ounces soba noodles

1 cucumber

10 radishes

1/2 pound snap peas

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons soy sauce

4 tablespoons lemon juice

salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

Cook noodles as directed. Drain and cool in fridge for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, thinly slice cucumber and radishes. Microwave snap peas with a dash of water for three minutes and then submerge in ice water bath. Drain and cut snap peas in half.

Combine noodles, cucumber, radishes, snap peas in bowl. Whisk together remaining ingredients and pour over noodles. Toss and serve.

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Foodie Friday: Primavera season has arrived

Although nothing beats pesto season in our house, primavera season is definitely a close second. And it’s so easy. You don’t really even need a recipe. This is where you get to fling things in a pan and create something amazing. Really. It’s that simple. So look in your fridge, and start building a delicious pasta dinner that’s healthy and sure to please just about everyone. This is your blank cooking canvas, start filling it with color.

Here’s what I did last night:

1 pound pasta, any type. Sometimes we’re in the mood for linguini, sometimes penne, sometimes rotelle. All very different experiences.

2 orange bell peppers, sliced

1 container of organic baby spinach

1 large container of sliced baby bella mushrooms

1 can diced tomatoes, since the real deal is not yet in season

Garlic, lots, thinly sliced

Walnuts pieces, lightly toasted

2 TBSP EVOO

Salt and pepper to taste

Any type of Italian herbs — oregano, basil, a nice mixture. Whatever you prefer. Maybe even some herbs de Provence.

Some reserved pasta water

Grated romano cheese, for serving

Preparation:

Put the pasta water on, with a generous dose of salt. Meanwhile, heat EVOO in large saute pan. Toss in garlic and then, 30 seconds later, mushrooms (and any Italian type seasonings, if using). When the mushrooms have cooked down a bit, add peppers and tomatoes. When pasta water boils, toss pasta into pot. (Well, you don’t have to “toss,” but that makes it more fun.) Add spinach to saute pan. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

When pasta is al dente, drain and add to veggie mixture. If mixture looks too dry, add a little pasta water to loosen it up. Serve it up, and pass the cheese. We had this last night with a big salad of mixed greens topped with an EVOO and balsamic dressing.

The beauty of this dish is that you can change it up in oh, so many ways, especially as things come into season as we get later into spring and then into summer. Use zucchini instead of peppers, Vidalia onion instead of garlic, escarole instead of spinach, or snap peas, or all of it at once if you really want to go crazy. Substitute toasted pine nuts for the walnuts. Add fresh parsley or fresh basil at the end. Experiment. It’s almost impossible to screw this up. Oh, and mangia!

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Learning to be a spiritual storm chaser

My May Life Lines column, currently running in the latest issue of Catholic New York, just in time for Pentecost:

I reluctantly went for a walk today, not because I wanted exercise but because I needed to get outside of my own head, and walking has a way of taking me to that particular interior destination. As I wandered through the neighborhood, the wind was whipping up, bending branches of the mighty oaks and pines and maples towering overhead, and for the briefest moment I felt as though the Spirit was blowing right through me.

By the time I returned home, I felt grateful, blessed, renewed. Suddenly my usual whininess seemed so small and unnecessary, and I marveled at what a short walk can do for the heart and soul and mind when the Spirit decides to make itself known.

I immediately sat down at my computer and noticed a friend’s request for prayers for her pregnant daughter, well past her due date and struggling with fear and a stalled labor. I had another message from a longtime acquaintance who shared feelings of guilt over her mother’s suicide many years before, and a third message from yet another friend who was on the threshold of what seemed like a devastating breakup.

As I responded to these emails, I felt an echo of that holy breeze that had buffeted me just a few moments before. I sent out a prayer-chain request for the pregnant friend. I emailed the grief-stricken friend with whatever words of comfort I could muster but then I reached out to another friend who has experienced suicide close to home and asked if she might have some words of wisdom to lift this person out of her darkness. Then I quickly sent a message of love and support to the friend feeling abandoned and afraid.

As I did all this—connecting people, sharing with people, asking for prayers, and offering sisterhood—I had the distinct feeling that something was changing in my life, that the wind that was physically swirling around me on my walk that morning was now figuratively swirling around me and trying to take me somewhere new, somewhere uncertain and maybe even scary.

With all this running through my head, I scrolled through some news stories and found a quote from Pope Francis’ homily earlier that same day:

“To speak plainly: The Holy Spirit annoys us…We want the Holy Spirit to sleep. We want to domesticate the Holy Spirit, and that just won’t do because he is God and he is that breeze that comes and goes, and you don’t know from where.”

Such wise words, and just when I needed to hear them. (The Spirit strikes again!) The Holy Spirit does annoy me on a pretty regular basis, what with all the goading me into things I don’t really want to do, pushing me to give up control and trust God, pulling me onto right paths with a subtle whisper or inconvenient shout or total spiritual smack down. But clearly the Spirit has been trying to get my attention lately.

Just this past weekend, as Bishop Howard Hubbard of Albany confirmed my son, Noah, I couldn’t help but think the homily directed at the confirmands—the one about letting the fire of the Holy Spirit set our hearts ablaze with a passion for God and for others—was meant for me as well.

Wind and fire—such powerful forces of nature, such powerful images of the Spirit. No wonder we are so often scared or annoyed by the Spirit. How can we withstand such a force? We can’t, at least not if we want to walk the path God has set before us.

I still haven’t figured out where the Spirit wants to take me. I think I’ll have to become a spiritual storm chaser and sit in the silent eye of the hurricane, waiting—with a little fear and trembling—to hear the whisper that signals the direction I’m meant to take.

“Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful…”

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Two ex-boyfriends, one powerful message just in time for Mother’s Day

A few weeks ago, I received an email from my first boyfriend. (Yes, we still keep in touch. We dated from age 16 to 21, so we grew into adulthood together. That counts for something.) Anyway, he was writing to let me know that he was at my mother’s grave on Easter. He had his daughter with him and he told her about my mother and “what a special person she was on this earth and I expect in heaven.”

Pretty powerful when your ex-boyfriend from high school and college takes the time to stop at your mom’s grave. I think he visits her more than I do, to be honest. In fact, I know he does. And all of this made me pause and think about the ways my mother touched people’s lives even though in her mind she was “just” a housewife and a mom. Being a mom was really all she ever wanted to be. And she told us that, especially on our birthdays, which were much more special to her than her own birthday or Mother’s Day. But as I think back on why my ex-boyfriend would still feel so close to my mom, I realize that she mothered lots of people, not just her own children. She was just that kind of person.

Fast forward to this weekend. My sister’s first boyfriend emailed both of us. (Yes, they still keep in touch. See note above.) He said that when he was at the cemetery putting flowers on his own mother’s grave (this is his first Mother’s Day without her), he stopped to put a single rose on our mother’s grave.

“I visit your mom’s grave when I go to my mom’s. You guys know how special she was to me,” he wrote.

Wow. That’s quite a legacy. We’re not talking about relatives who feel an obligation to visit a grave. We’re talking about ex-boyfriends going back decades. Those two emails were such gifts because they reminded me that my mother was not just the seemingly perfect woman I keep on a pedestal in my mind’s eye, but a truly special person who made a difference in so many lives, even when it seemed like she was doing nothing more than inviting a boyfriend to dinner or bringing a plate of brownies down to the basement for band practice. She was the real deal. Now that’s what Mother’s Day is about.

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I hate Mother’s Day. Do they make a card for that?

Every May, when I wander into the Hallmark store or CVS or some other location featuring overpriced, unrealistic, sugar-coated schmaltz for Mother’s Day, I feel a tightening somewhere in my gut. Usually I pick up random cards from the racks while I mutter to myself or laugh out loud. I realize that people probably step away from me, assuming I’m ever-so-slightly deranged. I’ve even been known to engage other card shoppers in conversation about the ridiculous nature of Mother’s and Father’s Day cards. You’ve been warned.

I attribute some of this anti-Mother’s Day attitude to the fact that I don’t have a mother anymore and, therefore, don’t feel I should ever have to buy another Mother’s Day card. That’s not to say that I don’t love the grandmother and stepmother and mother-in-law who do eventually receive the most minimalist cards I can find. Just that I think anyone who no longer has a mother should be exempt from this holiday for all time.

But it’s actually deeper and bigger than just not having a mom who needs a card, although that seems deep enough to me. I hate these Hallmark holidays. (You may recall I also hate Valentine’s Day.) We celebrate Mother’s Day here at our house mainly for the kids. I think they feel like they should celebrate Mother’s Day for me, and so we go through those motions and sometimes throw in a trip to the circus (I’m not making that up), but, really, I don’t need cards or presents or fancy dinners out. In fact, I kind of prefer a quiet morning, a cup of coffee, time on my deck, and take-out Chinese or pizza. A very low-cost mom am I. The last thing I want is a $6 card. A handmade heart is always better.

So to everyone who’s expecting a Mother’s Day card from me (us) this weekend, please forgive me if it doesn’t arrive by Sunday. I have to admit that only yesterday did I remember that this holiday was approaching, and it’s anybody’s guess if the U.S. Post Office can pull off two-day delivery with just a first-class stamp. Just know that you are loved and honored every day, not just one day a year, and nothing anyone else can write or rhyme in a card covered in glitter and filled with battery-powered song can convey what you mean to me.

Now why doesn’t someone write a card like that?

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“Recipe for Joy” will leave you satisfied and smiling

I really didn’t think I’d be able to read all the way through Recipe for Joy: A Stepmom’s Story of Finding Faith, Following Love, and Feeding a Family by Robin Davis (Loyola Press) in time for today’s blog tour. I figured, at best, I’d sit down with the prologue, peruse a few pages, and make a stab at saying something. But this book pulled me in from the very first paragraph and kept me reading long past the time I had allotted myself. In fact, I’m still reading, slowly, happily, hungrily. I’m about three-quarters of the way through, but I don’t want to rush it because there is so much to savor — beautiful writing, a surprising and heartfelt and faith-filled story, recipes, humor, family, motherhood. Everything you could ask for, really.

This is a wonderful book on so many levels. I’m already making a mental list of people I know who would love to read it. Get it for yourself, get it for a friend, get it for a woman you love just in time for Mother’s Day. (With express shipping you can still make it if you order it today.) Recipe for Joy is like sitting down to have a cup of coffee with a good friend. There is comforting, powerful, challenging, joyful sisterhood here.

I was fortunate to be able to ask the author, who’s been a food writer for almost 20 years, a few questions about her book and her life. Here’s how our email conversation played out (and don’t miss the great little book trailer at the end of our Q&A):

NSS: If you had to sum up in just one or two lines what you hope readers take away from your book, what would it be?

Robin: A sense of hope. Life is full of struggles but it’s full of joy, too. We all need to help each other on this journey. We need each other to make it through the dark times and to celebrate life’s high points.

NSS: Having written a book that includes a lot of my own moments of grief, I know how emotional this kind of book project can be. What was the writing of this book like for you? Was it hard to revisit those difficult times? Was it cathartic?

Robin: It was difficult and cathartic. I cried when I wrote about my parents’ deaths and some of the struggles of my childhood, like my mother’s alcoholism. It took me back to those times, forced me to relive the grief. But there was a therapeutic quality to putting it down on paper, too, so all of it didn’t just live in my head and in my heart. And since Recipe For Joy has been published, I’ve heard from others who’ve had similar experiences in loss and grief. It gives me great comfort to think my words might make someone feel less alone. Sometimes I think we believe there’s no one who has been through what we have, but in reality, there’s a whole community of people with similar experiences.

 NSS: What I love about this book is the element of surprise — from the personal details about your San Francisco life to the ways you allow yourself to be vulnerable before the reader as you face new and unexpected losses, changes, challenges, joys. I think it gives people hope and reminds them of their blessings, and at the same time it encourages them to be open to the whisper of the Spirit. What would you say to someone facing a difficult situation or tough choice in their life? How can faith and prayer get them to where they need to go?

Robin: In times of great pain and crisis, I think we sometimes feel like we can’t even pray, can’t form the words to ask God for help. When my father died, I could only manage the word “please.” Not even “please help me.” The key, I think, is just opening your heart to God. Don’t turn away, but turn toward him. And look around you, look for the people he’s put in your life to help you. When your own pain inside is too great, look outside yourself. Where can you help someone else? Something as small as giving a stranger a smile or putting an extra dollar in a tip jar can make the other person feel so much better. That will, in turn, make you feel better, even if just a smidge, too.

NSS: How did your step-children contribute to the book? How did they feel about being part of it?

Robin: I had Ben, Molly and Sarah read the proposal before I allowed it to be sent out. I did the same with the first draft. It started great conversations among us about things they remembered differently or even things they didn’t know at all. They have been enormously supportive.

NSS: How did you come up with the idea for structuring the book like a meal, and how did you choose the recipes that end each chapter?

Robin: As a food writer, I relate much of my life to food, so setting this up as a menu was a natural for me. But I also wanted to give the story a celebratory quality, despite the parts about struggle and loss. Food is something everyone relates to on some level — I don’t think it’s an accident that so many stories in the Bible include food.

The recipes are all dishes that my family enjoys. Some, like the baked goat cheese salad, are slightly fancier variations on everyday meals we shared together. Others, like the beef tenderloin, are dishes we enjoyed on holidays or at other family gatherings

NSS: Will you be doing any appearances or signings?

Robin: I’m doing a cooking class/book signing at Dorothy Lane Market in Dayton on June 23 and another at the North Market in Columbus on July 28. I list all of my appearances on my website: robincdavis.com.

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Apostle to the Misfits

About five years ago, around the time my Complete Idiot’s Guide to the Catholic Catechism came out, a national Catholic newspaper ran a story on it — and me — with the headline, “Apostle to the Idiots.” That snarky label was clearly meant to convey a certain attitude toward those of us who write and read Idiot’s Guides on topics any more serious than, say, camping or jazz music or Microsoft Word. But, guess what? I wore that title as a badge of honor because what that newspaper didn’t get was the fact that the folks who read my books and follow my blog and others like it are a breed apart, not “idiots” but something outside the norm, something unusual and original and wonderful: misfits, in a sense. So today I am declaring myself to be Apostle to the Misfits, those people who color outside the lines, who are quirky and eccentric and true to themselves and their beliefs in the most glorious ways. We are misfits; hear us roar.

This past year I have felt a shift toward something deeper and bigger and more powerful than what I’ve done in all my years leading up to this point in my life. Not bigger in the usual way society sees it. I’m not a bestseller. I don’t have thousands of people leaving hundreds of comments on this blog every day. But bigger in a God-sense, because day after day I find my world expanding and my heart along with it, because misfits are about Love and about following Truth, no matter what the rest of the world thinks or says.

Being a misfit is really nothing new for me. I didn’t follow the crowd in high school. I didn’t follow the crowd as a twentysomething, and I’m certainly not going to follow the crowd at age 50. I’m a lifelong misfit, and I’ve always been okay with that, more than okay, but kind of quietly okay. Now, however, being a misfit seems like the most amazing opportunity in the world, and I want to advertise it. Why? Because being a misfit means we are not bound by anyone’s rules, only by Love, and I’m surrounded by a band of misfits here on NSS who feel the same way. We walk to the beat of our own drum or guitar or kazoo, and I love each and every one of you.

All of this has been crystalizing for me in a big way in recent months. I find myself wanting to reach out and out and out, to mentor a young writer, to hug a troubled friend, to commiserate with another mom, to seek wisdom from a mentor of my own. Gone is the need to compete or succeed (in worldly terms); in its place is the need to connect and collaborate. Just recently I was given an opportunity to take on a job that probably would have given me much more visibility and definitely would have given me some much-needed income, and I briefly considered climbing on board because how could I not? It made good business sense. But it didn’t make sense to my heart. It didn’t make sense deep down in my soul. Finally at 50 years old I know who I am and who I want to be, and I knew without question that this particular job wasn’t going to help me get there. Rather it would push me back in another direction, a more confining, tension-fraught, competitive direction. So I walked away from it because that’s what misfits do, because we know it’s not about how many blog hits or how many comments but about touching hearts deeply and honestly, even if it’s only one heart a day or one heart a week. Love isn’t a numbers game.

Jesus said people would recognize his followers by the way they loved each other, by the way they loved everyone. Not a few, not many, but all. That’s why the Gospel is so hard to live. That’s what makes true followers total misfits in the eyes of the world. It’s not an easy calling, but it’s a noble calling.

Pope Francis recently said that the Church needs to be a community that says “yes,” a “community of open doors.” Amen to that. Maybe he’s the Pope of the Misfits, which would be A-okay in my book.

I can think of nothing more I’d rather do at this point in my life than bring together people from all different walks of life — which we do on a very small scale here at Not Strictly Spiritual — and form a community of misfits that will change the world one person at a time. Who’s with me?

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The grass is always greener. Except when it’s not.

For the past few years, Dennis and I have seriously talked about wanting to move away from here. Here being New York’s Capital Region. The bloom is off the rose, I guess, or, as I always seem to say for no apparent reason, the rose is off the bloom. I think it has something to do with our weekly drives to church in downtown Albany every Sunday. The ugly, abandoned buildings. The lack of a good lunch spot open anywhere nearby. The general sad sorry state of our city, after having lived in a place like Austin, which everyone around here thinks is comparative because of Sematech. Trust me, it’s not, and it never will be. Austin was a great city long before Sematech. In fact, having lived in Austin twice, I’d dare say Sematech and the dotcom boom is what ruined Austin, at least for me. But I digress…

Whenever I feel this way about this region in general and Albany in particular, all I have to do is point my car in any direction and drive for only 30 minutes — even less in some directions — and then stand back in awe. It happened just this week as I drove to Silver Bay for Noah’s Lab School retreat. I was driving up the Northway, singing along to my Austin music (it’s not just the physical city I miss), when suddenly I was startled (in a good way), as I always am, by the mountains all around me, by the lake appearing as if out of nowhere when I exited and started driving east, by wild turkeys running across the road and hawks circling overhead. And all that before I even stepped out of my car, which I did before I reached my destination, just to stand at a scenic overlook and snap a few photos.

Just last week, we had family in town and as we drove through Albany, a few of them mentioned how much they like the city. It caused me to pull back and look around. Sure, I’ve noted beautiful buildings that must have been spectacular during their hey-day. And the little cobblestone alleys here and there are glimpses into what could be if the city somehow went through a revival. When you’re here all the time, it’s easy to let the giant tangle of highways blocking the Hudson River also block your view of the whole. So my goal will be to start looking for the hidden gems within the city instead of only in the beautiful Adirondack and Catskill and Berkshire mountains that surround us.

Still, those mountain ranges sure to do make it easier. When I returned home from Silver Bay this week, I announced: “I don’t want to move from here. Ever.” It’s amazing what a little fresh air, sunshine and sweeping views of nature at its finest will do for your perspective.

 

 

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