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Lord, Make Me Skinny And Summer Ready–But Not Yet!

In preparation for our upcoming summer vacation, Tyler and I are no longer eating after dinner. Nights are sad now. No evening bowl of popcorn to look forward to. My hopes of indulging in a bowl of ice cream after putting the kids to bed have been dashed. No more rummaging through the pantry to savor some late-night chocolate chips. (It’s clear why I needed to stop eating after dinner, right?)

They say it takes 21 days to form a habit. I’ll let ya know.

Of course this “no eating after dinner” rule was conceived in the morning. Sunday morning, to be precise. On the way to church and still full from the night before, I recommitted myself to “getting serious” and making an effort to “eat better” before our trip. But I knew I needed a hard and fast rule, because I am weak– and everything just tastes so.much.better. after the kids go to sleep. I also knew that if I didn’t name it, say it out loud, and have Tyler to keep me accountable, I’d inevitably be in search of another bowl of popcorn after putting the kids to bed that very night.

So I said it.

No more eating after dinner. Deal? Deal.

Ask me how it’s going on any given day around noon, I’ll say it’s been great. But after putting the kids to bed, I’m still negotiating with myself about just how necessary this rule is.

This is so stupid. There’s nothing to do!! 

I go to bed early, sad and defeated, dreaming of breakfast.

The truth is that there would be nothing wrong with having a healthy snack after putting the kids to bed. But if I were skipping downstairs every night for a few sticks of celery and a tablespoon of peanut butter, I wouldn’t have needed to implement this rule for myself in the first place.

Sometimes you just need those extreme guard rails to get yourself back on track. Right now, I need a bright neon sign for my kitchen that flashes “CLOSED” after a certain hour (not literally, but man, wouldn’t that be cool..)

I don’t think God cares how much I weigh, what I look like on the beach, or whether I indulge in the occasional late night dessert. And I don’t mean to over-spiritualize my summer diet/fitness plan, but it’s hard not to notice a few correlations between making healthy lifestyle changes and combatting spiritual sloth.

I remember the first time I was given the advice to look for little acts of mortification as a way to practice “saying no” to myself.  Skip salt on your food. Pick your second-choice at meals. Little acts. Nothing as drastic as “Stop eating at 7pm!”, just little ways to practice denying myself insignificant physical pleasures, so that when BIG things that I actually needed to say no to would come along, it wouldn’t be such a foreign decision.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with adding a little seasoning to your food. And if you are offered your very favorite breakfast in the world, there’s no sin in choosing to eat it. It’s just that if all we ever do is indulge our desires, it becomes so.difficult. to do anything else. Before you know it, you’re eating chocolate chips in the pantry in the dark.

We all need a little practice saying no to ourselves from time to time.

Still, denying myself is not the goal. It’s a means. Right now I need those big neon signs in the kitchen that say “closed,” after I clear the dinner table. But not forever.

In a few weeks, we’ll go on vacation and I’ll hopefully feel healthier and happier than I would have if I didn’t set down some rules for healthy living. But eventually, I’m going to eat a bowl ice cream again after the kids go to bed. If one bowl turns into a nightly ritual of “What kind of junk am I going to eat tonight?” then I’ll need to reevaluate and maybe break out the metaphorical neon signs again.

So learn from the lesson that I keep having to re-learn myself! Practice self-control in your daily life. Offer up that last bite of food. Skip dessert. Resist turning the AC to full-blast as the temperature rises.

Get a little uncomfortable every now and again. It’s good for you!



My Baby, My Way


The 3 and 2 year olds are in the shopping cart–one in the seat, and one in the basket itself. The baby is strapped to me in a baby carrier. I cram groceries around the big kids and bounce the baby when she gets fussy.

You don’t have to tell me that I have my hands full. But you probably will, and I’ll smile back and laugh as I say, “I know, right?” as if this thought has never crossed my mind.

Having three so close together gets me a lot of comments when we’re out. The vast majority are totally polite, encouraging, and mean no harm. There’s an odd mixture of admiration and terror in their eyes that says, “Girl you’re crazy! I could NEVER do that!”

Oh but you could. And if you found yourself in my shoes, you would!

I get it. Kids– though hilarious at times– are no joke.

Still, it’s always somewhat astounding to me how radical and crazy others find it for my family to simply have babies on my body’s natural schedule.

For my husband and I, marriage means the possibility (and extreme probability, in our case) of babies. In fact my youngest is approaching the age at which we tend to conceive another baby. So, if we were to get pregnant again, it would be a bit of “Oh wow, FOUR!” but honestly not all that shocking to either myself or my husband (…right, babe??). This is natural. This is normal. It’s good, even.

Of course there is some level of parental responsibility that has to play into this. Is it the best time for another baby? Can we afford another baby? Can we mentally cope with another baby? All of these are questions we have to prayerfully consider and are discussions my husband and I have on a regular basis. When we discern that postponing pregnancy is something we think would be best for our family, we use NFP to do so (which is no fun for anyone, because NFP is hard). But for us, fertility is a good and healthy part of a marriage, and not something we want to suppress, or “fix” in any way.

When I was pregnant with our third, there was a birth control pamphlet in my OB’s office. There were a lot, actually, but this one in particular had a picture of a woman in her mid-to-late-twenties on the front of it. She was at a children’s playground happily pushing a baby swing, except in the swing where the baby ought to be, there was a video camera. The tagline read: “My career is my baby right now.”

When we lived in La Jolla, the buses that would run for UCSD had these big ads on the sides of them promoting UCSD’s hospital system (which is great, by the way). The ads were in all caps and said: YOUR BABY, YOUR WAY. 

As a woman I am supposed to feel empowered by all of this ON MY TERMS rhetoric around the baby decision, but if I’m being honest, the prevalence of birth control, and the whole, “your baby your way” mindset has come with enormous societal pressure.

I mean, can you imagine being pregnant (happily!) for the third time in three and a half years, in an office surrounded by birth control ads full of women who–thanks to birth control–are actually doing something with their lives?

Truthfully, having babies is a little scary sometimes. And I think one unintended, and truly unfortunate, consequence of birth control is that women now feel hesitant to express these totally normal and legitimate anxieties about motherhood. You wanted this, didn’t you? Of course having 4 kids is hard. Why did you do that to yourself?

Your Baby, Your Way.

Flip side: Your Decision, Your Fault.

And, by the way, it isn’t just us “Fertile Myrtles” who get the flack for being “weird.” In a world where everyone thinks fertility is as simple as taking or not taking a pill, those who struggle to conceive have to deal with judging eyes and yet another person asking, “So when are you guys going to have kids?” after over a year of trying.

It’s not always as simple as “My Baby, My Way.”

So, yes, I totally get that me out with my crew of three, three and under is somewhat crazy. Nobody understands this better than me, I assure you.

But I’m not crazy simply for having babies close together. I’m just a woman, no more or less than the woman who decides she would rather focus on her career than have babies. I’m just a woman, no more or less than the woman who’d love to have babies, but struggles to conceive. My children are neither trophies awarded to me for being good, nor are they punishments for my poor decision making.

Ain’t nothing wrong with a little planning and knowing your own limitations. But if you ask me, the sooner we all let go of this need to control each and every aspect of our lives, and the crazy nuts illusion of being able to control life itself, the better off we’ll all be.

And P.S. – No, I’m not pregnant.  😉

What Does It Mean To Put God First?

“How can we better live our lives in such a way that we can put God first?” 

I received the above question from a reader last week and it has got me reflecting a bit on what it really means to put God first.

The easy answer (that just requires a bit of discipline) is to put into place the regular daily/weekly habits that give you frequent opportunities to grow in relationship with God. Mass every Sunday is [obviously] required. Daily prayer is, as well (preferably with the Scriptures). Regular confession is something we all really need to be in the habit of because we all are in need of God’s Mercy. Personally, I make it a habit to read the day’s mass readings each morning and pray a rosary with my family each night. Regular little practices like these are needed in the life of a Christian who wants to grow in relationship with Jesus.

I said all of that is the easy part. If you are not already in the habit, then getting used to these practices will take some time and some effort, but eventually they will become second nature.

However, I think to really answer the question of how we can put God first, Saint John Paul II said it best:

“One must arrange one’s life so that everything praises God.”

This is really the more challenging part of the answer. Once in the habit, that daily family rosary is actually pretty easy, and if we’re not attentive, it can become little more than a box on a checklist, begrudgingly prayed day after day simply because “we’re supposed to.”

It’s ok to go through times of spiritual dryness, and times like these actually strengthen our faith and deepen our devotions. But from time to time, we owe it to our relationship with Jesus to take stock of our lives and ask ourselves:

Am I living my life in a way that everything praises God?

Do I glorify God in my work—offering my best efforts, my successes and even my struggles to Him as an act of praise? Do my interactions with others reflect the Christian belief that they are created in His image and after His likeness? Do my thoughts and dealings with myself bear in mind that I am a beloved child of God? Do I recognize that everything in my life comes from Him and is ordered in His Providence for me to grow closer to Him?

All of this ought to be the driving force behind our regular devotions and our prayers.  Beyond just a sense of duty, love for the Person of Jesus Christ should drive us to put Him first in everything, to arrange our lives so that every moment and every decision is made with Him in mind.  Putting God first is the work of our whole lives as Christians!  Let’s pray that we continually draw closer to Him, and not just settle for a check list.


The Layers of Humility



Humility is an interesting concept. From the looks of it, we think we are pretty darn good at being humble and we think that we have a strong understanding of it; but the truth is, true humility is deeper than the surface understanding we’re all so familiar with. Humility is something that must be meditated on in order to realize its true profoundness. Therefore, I have come to my personal conclusion that humility exists in two distinct layers: the “aw shucks” layer, and the “here’s the other cheek” layer.

The first layer is the more commonly used layer due to its easy-to-access nature. This layer is not one that requires an abundance of thought, prayer, meditation or teaching to understand.  In order to possess this knowledge one must simply know what it means to be Christian, in the most simplistic way. We are taught that it is good to be humble, and not to boast. Really, we think that saying “aw shucks, I’m not that great” qualifies as humility. For the longest time I thought that humility meant awkwardly pushing off compliments from others, or not constantly screaming from my facebook page that I am the greatest artist to have walked the earth. Now don’t get me wrong, it is good that we don’t constantly boast about our strengths, but that sort of sounds like we’re just getting by with a bare minimum. The reason I call this the “aw shucks” layer is because we have this idea that once we have mastered the art of deflecting complements and refraining from patting ourselves on the back, we think we’re done in the field of humility.

 Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
(Zechariah 9:9)

In the second layer, humility is more than an idea or words; it’s a mindset, a way of living. There is so much more to humility than deflecting praise.  In 2 Chronicles we read, “If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land” (2 Chronicles 7:14). This is a great example.  Humility is not about just saying to one another, “No! You’re great!” because that wouldn’t have been enough to please God; we need to go further. A 2 Chronicles tells us, we need to become submissive. In the Gospel of Mark, Chapter 9, the disciples were discussing among themselves who was the greatest, at which point Jesus put a child in the midst of them and told them to be like that child: vulnerable, small, weak—even pointless, a nothing (in the eyes of the culture at the time). We are called to be this way in the world, to be submissive, to allow others in words and in actions to be before us without the desire of being noted for our humility.

The reason I call this layer the “here’s the other cheek” layer is because one of my all time favorite parts of the Bible is when Jesus tells us:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on your right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if anyone would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well; and if any one forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to him who begs from you, and do not refuse him who would borrow from you” (Matthew 5:38-42).

This, in my most sincere opinion, is the truth of humility. If you desire to be truly humble, take this to the chapel and meditate on what it means to give even more to those who take from you. We must learn to be humble in our very nature.

Maybe this is just my own way of understanding, but I have recently started to realize that a lot of people I encounter are only familiar with and live life in terms of the first layer. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it’s a fact that many of the people— even in our own churches— only live by the first layer. Why do I think that? Because I firmly believe that if we all took the time to understand the second layer of humility (the more profound truth of humility) our communities and this world would look much different than they do now.

What do you think?  How can we better live out true humility?

Guest Post: We Want Love

From Mary: Last week I mentioned that Young And Catholic was going to be running a post from a contributor: Kaylee!  Here is her post, as promised.  Enjoy!


Something I have been really wrestling with lately is the idea of some sort of religious vocation. For a while I was very interested in it; I thought that it made my heart fly with joy; I was giddy! Then not to long after that, I would be very stubborn against it, insisting that I was called to marriage. It went very back and forth like that a handful of times.  It has been happening since I started viewing religious life as an actual option for my life.

Just recently (as in: it ended today, recently) I had my worst episode of “Nope, I am going to fall in love with a handsome man and we are going to be mushy gushy lovey-dovey for the rest of our stinkin’ lives” that I’ve had yet. It was so bad, in fact, that it had thrust me into a pit of selfishness. I was frustrated that God might be calling me to a life that was without “materialistic” love. Why couldn’t I have what they have? Why can’t I have someone to hold me and tell me as a fact that they loved me? That’s what life is lived for; that’s what is on everyone’s mind, everyday.

Last week(ish), when my latest “I don’t want to be a nun” phase started, I began to really hold onto the lyrics of some of the popular songs.  That might sound kind of lame and overdramatic, but it’s true, and I used those lyrics as a stencil for my hopes. I was starting to desperately cling to the idea of having “someone to hold in the rain.” I was gradually (but somewhat quickly) throwing God out the window, but I was doing so indirectly.  It was more of me pulling other stuff in that caused God to be squeezed out.

I want a boyfriend. I want to hold someone’s hand. I want to get married. I want a man to love me. You know what? I’m just going to go out with an “I’m single” attitude, and let the guys gawk at me (but just a little, you know. Can’t let God think I am totally self-centered).

I was convinced, with a deep sadness at this point, that I was not “saint material.” Since I am not able to live up to God’s standard (for me) of sanctity, then I am going to live a perfectly happy life inside a good moral standard and just allow myself to slip into Purgatory, narrowly avoiding hell. Lukewarm. That was a pitiful goal and I was well aware of it.

I realized something tonight as I worshipped God with some of my friends.  Love isn’t something that I should seek to get anything out of.  Love should be selfless.  Love is a sacrifice of oneself for the sake of the other.

All along, I was thinking of love so selfishly, seeking that I be comforted and held and watched after. I wanted a man to tell me I was worth it.  I wanted a man in order that I would feel fulfilled. I wanted to date someone so that my friends would have something to talk about, so that others would know that I had it in me to date.

When I look at the crucifixion, I see love—a better love than I know how to understand.  And I realized that the reason that is such a beautiful and perfect love is because He didn’t do it for Himself.  The reason that love is so beautiful is because it is selfless.  I realized that religious life isn’t the absence of love; it is the perfection of love.

My heart was given peace tonight as I realized I am strong enough (and you are too)—by the grace of God— to do without material shows of love.  We don’t need that. I don’t need a man to hold me in order for me to know that I am loved; I just need to love Jesus because it proves that He has first loved me (1 John 4:19).

Pray with me as we pray for the strength of those called to religious life, that they may know that love is more than a physical reassurance.  True love is self-sacrifice (John 15:13).