Pivot
We’re in a season of disruption. Three major holidays in a row, travel plans, end of year tasks, and more all add up to significant calendar changes. Our routines upended, we’re left scrambling to find the peace of the season while still covering our bases.
I read that the main characteristic of the 21st century is flexibility. Life in a rapid, 24 hour-cycle requires frequent adaptation. This isn’t just about the pandemic, but really the massive changes that have occurred since 2008, and even back to 2001.
To be successful, we must pivot. This is true in all aspects of our lives, including our spiritual lives. Daily prayer is the essential medicine to encourage virtue and help us to avoid sin. If it becomes so mundane that we resist or skip it, we put ourselves at risk. We have to pivot to a new prayer routine or expression of faith.
Structure is good, but rigidity is fatal. We have to be willing and able to pivot. We have to look forward and see disruption coming, and ensure that we’re living our best lives.
Scripture Before Phone
I just finished reading The Common Rule by Justin Earley. A former missionary and currently an attorney, Earley lived through the negative consequences of many of our modern daily habits. He pushed himself too hard to gain max productivity, and found himself addicted to his phone.
In the book, Earley develops a modern Rule in the model of the religious Rules of Catholic religious communities. He lays out eight habits, four of which are to be done daily, and four of which are to be done weekly. He isn’t Catholic, but his writing and his theology sure read like he is! It’s a fantastic book.
One of Earley’s daily habits is “Scripture Before Phone.” He relates how early in his career, he’d wake up, open his email on his phone, and start responding to requests from colleagues before he even got out of bed. In the book, he explores how our habits build the themes of our days. Starting his day with his phone lead to days of stress and anxiety.
Seeking to overcome this negative trend, Earley decided that he would spend time reading Scripture before unlocking his phone for the first time. The result? He started his day steeped in God’s love instead of the responsibilities of work. He was greeted with the peaceful joy of time in God’s presence instead of giving up the first quiet moments of the day to frenetic work.
I’ve implemented this habit, and the results are wonderful. There’s very little quiet time in a house with four small children. I get up two hours before they wake up, but I budget 90 of those minutes to my physical health. That leaves me a mere 30 minutes during my waking hours when I’m alone and the house is still. Spending those minutes in quiet prayer is relaxing and rejuvenating. With my prayer time complete, I’m more calm throughout the day.
With the clock change last week, my kids are now up during the tail end of my morning prayer. If I’m lucky, Lucy or Felicity will come downstairs in her footie pajamas and climb on the couch to snuggle with me.
Morning is a beautiful time, one that should be enjoyed slowly with good exercise, good coffee, and quiet time spent in reflection. Nothing spoils a morning like 30 minutes of swiping and scrolling. If you want to try something different, commit to spending time with Scripture before your first swipe.
Dads on Duty
There’s a great human interest story making its rounds about a high school in Louisiana. They’ve suffered numerous fights this academic year, leading to dozens of students arrested or expelled. Not wanting to let this sort of behavior continue, over 40 dads in the community signed up to patrol the school hallways.
School Resource Officers, sworn police officers detailed to schools, are common in most school districts in America. They provide a level of immediate protection to students and harden campuses. The downside to having police officers in the schools is a concerning trend of administrators referring students for criminal prosecution over matters that would otherwise be handled as a disciplinary matter by the school district.
It’s easy to see a problem and assume that someone else will handle it, someone with authority. These dads chose another path. They volunteered to take shifts at the high school. Dressed in visible red shirts, they talk and joke with the kids and quietly assert their own manly authority.
The students have responded.
Fights have stopped, students are showing up to class, and many kids are even reporting a calmer learning environment. These dads don’t carry credentials or weapons, they aren’t paid by the school district, are they are is present. A fatherly presence is a part of childhood that far too many children miss out on. It’s a presence that can mean all the difference in a child’s life.
Active, engaged, and loving fathers have the power to change the world. If only we’d let men step up to the plate and crank it out of the park.
Acceptance
Most of the Christian life is about acceptance. Acceptance is the humble admission that the great plans of God are far superior to the limited ones we have for our lives.
Humility is a Christian virtue. It’s easy to get ahead of our skis, setting out plans and ideas for ourselves that stray far from the mind of God. Humility calls us back to the essential truths of life. Our life is for loving and serving others.
Since 2006, I’ve lived with chronic migraines. It’s the paradigm through which my life processes. My lifestyle choices, career choices, even plans for each day must pass muster through migraine. Migraines are limiting, but upon reflection, they’ve served more like providential bumpers. My plans fell by the wayside, and God’s plan of adventure for my life took hold.
I’m another point of acceptance. After years of trial and error, I’ve learned that a strict ketogenic diet is my best treatment plan. If I want to be in control, I need to avoid the deliciousness of sweets and carbohydrates. But all is not lost. I’m less hungry, at a healthier weight, and I have energy. I’m able to accomplish my tasks and play with my children. Our schedules suffer less disruption and my sleep schedule is no longer restrictive.
Acceptance is not resignation. I’m not resigned to a particular diet, a victim of my biological circumstances. I’m free to enjoy so many delicious foods. Not only that, but I lose far fewer days to migraine, and so I’m free to live each day with joy and energy,
This is the essential, if not paradoxical lesson, that I’ve internalized. Giving up on my plans opens me up to the grander vision God has for me.
Unglued
I was reading my favorite personal finance blog earlier, when I came across a guest post. To my astonishment, a human being, with a doctoral degree, actually wrote these words:
I’m not suggesting that we shame commenters who had kids or censure them in any way. But I think it needs to be part of the conversation. “You had too many kids,” and, “If you want to make it easier to be financially secure, have fewer kids,” are messages that I really think are lacking on the site. I have several friends who stopped at one child (or didn’t have any) because of finances. One of my good friends said, “We could give two kids an OK life financially, or we could give one kid a great life.”
- Erik Hofmeister, DVM
To this man, a child is no different from a purse. It is simply an accessory. Completely optional. A life is reduced to a number on a spreadsheet to him. He is far from alone.
A human, to this man and those who think like him, is now a commodity, an inconvenience, and completely disposable. What other worldview would argue so vociferously for the fake legal right to kill a child at any point until birth. A nine-month window in which they argue for the legal right to commit a premeditated and calculated killing of an innocent person. What distorted logic endeavors to even justify such an act, let alone codify it in law?
We’ve given up the mystique of the human person, the preciousness of a life, the awe at the circle of life.
If you wonder why society has come unglued, why hated and bigotry are suddenly spotted everywhere, and it’s because of this. When we reject the fundamental sacredness and specialness of life, acting against it becomes easy and unglued.
Juxtaposed to this pitiful and destructive worldview, is the perspective of a new father, a man who welcomed his first child at age 40,
As I surveyed all the petty passions and projects with which I had filled my life over the years, fully accepting that none of it would matter once the baby came, I had to wonder: Is this me? Will I still be me when all this stuff doesn’t matter anymore? Who’s the person that’s going to raise this kid, anyway? I thought I had answered those questions, until the doctor put that squalling little muppet into my arms earlier this month. In that moment, I stood there looking at the child, then at my wife, and then at the child again. As my vision cleared, I realized it wasn’t the baby I was seeing for the first time, it was me. I’d never really known who I was until that moment. Becoming a father didn’t change me; it helped me understand who I’d always been and who I would be from now on.
- Ed Condon
A child is a precious gift. Like a beautiful rosebush, it’s a gift that requires constant attention and nurture. But as we know, the human ideal is not selfish pursuits, but loving and serving others. Children provide us the greatest gift of all: unconditional love and human fulfillment.
Stony Hearts
Certain things stand out to me when I read the news. Lately, it’s been the callous words that journalists use when they write about abortion. It’s not their fault, they’re just putting to words the cultural mood. When I stop to consider the seriousness of the topic, it’s incredible that we’ve allowed our language to become so cold when discussing the dignity of the human person.
It reminds me of the prophet Ezekiel when he asks God to take away his stony heart and to give him one of flesh. This is a common trope in Christianity, a part of the process of lifelong conversion. We recognize that our selfish human desires lead us far from God and His plan. We turn in on ourselves instead of focusing our energies on serving those around us and picking up our crosses.
The hardness of our hearts doesn’t just reflect an indifference towards things that are wrong in the world. It represents a missed opportunity. God has prepared great plans for us. They’re not our plans, and they may not fit our idea of a good life, but they fit within a beautiful vision. When we reject God’s plan for us, we accept a lesser existence, a life with opportunities for joy and fulfillment left unrealized. We seek comfort, God seeks adventure.
The Christian life is one of paradox. The things that we think will make us happy never do. The things that cause us to think of and serve others, that make us uncomfortable, the things that God has laid out for us, leads to joy. Look at the lives of the saints and martyrs who gave up everything for Christ. Their stories are not of morose people, but are stories of joyful people.
We’ve let ourselves become numb to life, and to the little affronts to the dignity of the human person around us. We don’t speak out or take positive action because inertia and comfort are so much more convenient. We settle for stony hearts.
May God prepare my heart for the adventures that He has planned for me.
Perfect Heroes
Hero is a common word these days. Healthcare workers are heroes for putting themselves and their families at risk to provide care for the sick. Grocery workers are heroes for taking similar risks and keeping us fed. The list goes on and on.
It’s hard for me to say it, but like so much of our language today, I think we overdid it. It’s not my intention to downplay those actions. Taking those risks are part of the job. Healthcare workers put themselves at risk of infection, injury, and lawsuit to help their patients on every shift. It’s what they do. The risk of getting sick is lower today, but Walmart team members still go to work and do my shopping for me. I’m grateful for their actions. I think what we saw was not strictly heroism, but altruism. In the face of adversity, the human spirit triumphed.
In the revisionist trope of our times, we set a very high bar for our heroes. We don’t just want them to be heroic, we demand that they be perfect. When we discover that these heroes are human, with their flaws and imperfections, we let our judgmental selves reduce and demean them.
Take today, Columbus Day. Christopher Columbus made an incredible choice. When he set sail, there were probably a good number of people on those docks, never expecting to hear from him again. He sailed anyway. Columbus Day is an opportunity to reflect on the bold spirit of adventure that lives so deep within us.
He was not perfect. In his zeal to explore and spread his faith, he hurt people. He made many mistakes in his life, but his explorations were also pivotal to human progress. He set in motion the process that ultimately yielded the greatest force for good in the history of mankind, the United States of America. Yet, some cannot bring themselves to forgive a man for acting in a way consistent with the larger society 500 years ago. Thus, he must be maligned, defamed, torn down, and erased from history.
The only perfect saint is Mary. Every other saint fought and contended with their imperfections and, in the end, won. St. Peter denied knowing Jesus, St. Paul tried to snuff out the early Church, and St. Augustine was a bit loose. These men are heroes for their contribution to human knowledge, but they were also flawed people. They were just like you and me.
Heroes inspire us to live our lives more fully, but expecting them to be perfect is a fool’s errand. Instead, we should accept them for the good that they have done and forgive them for the mistakes that they have made. We should hope that others treat us with the same kindness.
Month of the Rosary
It’s hard to believe that October is already here. The dog days of summer are over, kids are back in school, and more pleasant weather is in the forecast. October is my favorite month of the year, as the weather cools and I start to feel more relaxed.
The central role of Mary in our faith is confusing to many non-Catholics, but to us, it’s easy to understand. A mother is the anchor of her family, so Mary is the anchor of the Church. There are many feast days and holy days throughout the year to celebrate Mary and the important role that she plays as Jesus’s mother and the mediatrix of grace. October is another one of these opportunities, as we celebrate the Month of the Rosary.
The Rosary is a powerful prayer, but praying it regularly can be a challenge. The Rosary is simple and contemplative. It can be easy to mistake the repetition of the Rosary for boredom, but that’s its hidden gem. Life is busy, and we’re always trying to stuff our priorities into every waking moment. The Rosary is an invitation to set all of that aside, even just for 15 minutes. It’s permission to relax, rest, and experience the joy that is stillness.
Mindfulness and meditation are popular in light of the unsettled past 18 months. These medically validated practices, when done regularly, yield tangible health improvements. While their benefits are clear, developing a regular mindfulness practice takes work. There are many guides and apps to help, but at the end of the day, mindfulness requires that you set aside the busyness of life for 10 minutes of focus. Praying the Rosary takes the physical health benefits of mindfulness and supercharges them by refocusing that time off the movement of your breath onto the greatness of God.
During His public ministry, Jesus was constantly mobbed by people. He was on the move, performing miracles, and in every town was a new group of people eager to meet this mysterious prophet. Many times, we see Him trying to withdraw to a quiet place with the Apostles to pray. The Rosary is that quiet place for us, waiting to give us the rest that is good for our souls.
When we want to take on a new goal, we lay out grand expectations and plans. We plot, strategize, and optimize, trying to find the perfect way to get from where we are to where we want to be. This is the model of the New Year’s Resolution, and it’s a broken model. We build a plan that demands perfection when we know that we are imperfect. When we deviate from our perfect plan, we throw up our hands, give up, and forget about the whole thing.
Praying the Rosary every day doesn’t require any planning, strategizing, or optimization. It only requires 15 minutes and the willingness to accept the grace of stillness. Find those 15 minutes in your schedule, set them aside, and give yourself permission to connect with God through praying the Rosary.
Whether it’s been a few months or a few years since you’ve picked up your Rosary beads, make this October a turning point in your life. Rediscover the beauty of rest and commit yourself to praying the Rosary.
Do Nothing
My day has a way of getting away from me. For the first 90 minutes that I’m up, I’m in complete control. I walk, read the paper, pray, drink coffee. It’s quiet, still, and orderly. As soon as the first pair of small feet come down the stairs, everything goes out the window.
I’m more flexible in our schedule than I used to be. I don’t have rigid timetables, just daily task lists. We finish breakfast around 8:30am and start our schoolwork. Of course, if they’re playing nicely, creatively, and quietly, I let things slide.
One of the more challenging parts of having four children is spending one-on-one time with each of them. The day is mostly playing, work, or activity in groups of two, three, or four. Each of my kids has a distinct personality when they’re in a group setting. It’s when I get them alone that things get interesting. They don’t have to compete for my attention, they have it.
When I take Benedict to our monthly father/son activity, he says the most insightful things in the car ride. It reminds me of just how grown up he really is. Felicity is very bubbly, but she’s especially sweet and cheerful when we’re alone together. Lucy can be crabby, but she loves snuggling close to me. Veronica, of course, is happy all the time. But there’s a particular delight when she has you alone.
The busyness of the waking hours keeps us all moving. While I have a lot to do, maybe I need to add “Do Nothing” to my list. Permission to stop, pull one of my kids aside, and do nothing with them for a few minutes.
I know that these days are racing by, and as my children grow and mature, our relationship won’t always be this easy. The window of opportunity is open, I need to jump through it and do nothing.
Nine
Earlier this month, Alison and I marked our ninth wedding anniversary. In years past, I’d take the opportunity to write a post sharing some new thing that I’d learned. As the date came and went this year, I struggled to write this post.
It’s clear to me that all new marriages endure a very strange first year. Things need to be worked out as the two worlds merge. There’s a bit of new conflict and some general awkwardness. Balancing the personal dynamics and expectations of two different families is a delicate dance that leads to friction.
As the years pass on, routines fall into place and life becomes easier. You move past the early stages in careers, children arrive, and the family puts down roots. Finally, your marriage starts to feel like a real, unique family with its own identity.
It took us nine years, and now I feel that we’ve reached that point. We’re in our home, with all the liberty and responsibility that ownership brings. We have an established brood of four, with our oldest able to accept household responsibilities on his own. Alison finished school, finished training, and is well established in her field.
The plans that we set nearly a decade ago and the hard work that it took to accomplish those plans is starting to show results. In a sense, we’re settling in to the life that we spent nine years building.
When I took control of my physical health two years ago, and finally achieved my goals, there was a transition period afterwards that I fumbled. It’s one thing to orient your life in the pursuit of a goal, and it’s quite another to order your life to maintain it. I knew all about the things that I needed to lose weight, but I knew nothing of how to maintain success once I’d reached it.
The hard work of laying the groundwork is complete. Now we get to enjoy the ride and take on the challenges that come with maintaining a plan.