faith fridays: something's missing

Last night my friend and I were chatting over appetizers about the joys and sorrows of our lives, and as often is the case with faith friendships, at some point the conversation began to go deep.

Well, not apparently so at first. We were on the subject of puzzles and how much she enjoys them -- the challenge of taking a bunch of seemingly random pieces and trying to figure out how they all fit together. She was weaving the story of her life with children, how her boys used to sit down with her and do the puzzles with her, and how now that they're teens they'll pop in and out but not sit for the duration.

Honestly, I thought the conversation was going to be about teenagers and their changing needs, but instead, it became something about humanity as she talked about the times she's gotten all the way through a puzzle, piece by piece, only to find out at the very end that one piece is missing. One piece! And how much that bothers her -- that one piece that has departed, is nowhere to be found.

That's when things got more serious. "It recently occurred to me that that puzzle piece is us," she said. "Each of us. I really think it is. That's how important we are. When one of us is gone, even one of us, it's just not right."

And I realized, yeah, she's right! I mean, that's how God feels about us. He's brought us here for a reason, right now, at this particular time in history. We are all the many parts of His one body. So when one of us goes missing...something is off, something isn't right, and the world will not be right, will not be set on course, until all of the pieces are in place.

That won't happen in this world, of course. It can't. And we live with that tension -- the incompleteness that oftentimes fuels us, keeps us seeking. Something's not right yet. Something's missing.

There are many points to be made with this one thought of a missing puzzle piece. For one, each of us counts, indelibly, unimaginably, too. The other is that we count. We can't even begin to know our worth. We see ourselves from the inside out only. Everyone else sees us from the outside in. God sees it all. And someday we will see ourselves the way God does, and we will realize just how significant our piece was, how essential, how crucial, as well as the importance of everyone whose lives touched ours, whether for a moment or for our earthly lifetime.

I'm telling you, it's going to happen. We can't control when, we can only control what we do while we wait.

I can't leave today without mentioning the upcoming beatification of Pope John Paul II. What a dear man he was and is! I grappled today with dedicating my Friday post to him or the puzzle piece. I decided that it's all connected, especially after I heard a fellow blogger talk this morning on Catholic radio about the chance she had (and denied herself) to meet the Pope in person one year when she was a teenager. She said something to the effect that later, she realized that not having taken the chance, and knowing what she knows now of our former Pope, she's certain he felt her absence, since this particular man has always been gifted at looking upon each person as a unique, unrepeatable individual. Because of that, she feels that her absence was glaring that day, like a missing puzzle piece. Something wasn't right.

But it's all been made right now. She's a religious Sister, a self-described media nun (see her blog, Hell Burns) on fire for the Lord and enamored with the legacy John Paul II has left us. Even her near crossing with the Pope set her life on a completely different course. She's doing what she can to keep her puzzle piece visible and connected to the rest of the flock.

My friend Lisa Hendey will be in Rome this coming week, arriving just as the beatification of JPII is underway. She will gather with 150 other bloggers in a special Vatican-sponsored meeting on social media and faith. This is a tremendous opportunity for Lisa, and she considers herself a representative for all Catholic bloggers out there. In turn, please consider following Lisa during her visit to hear about the exciting events in Rome in the coming week. I know I will! You can find out more here about how to keep up with Lisa's adventure.  Also, here's an article from the online Catholic news sources, Zenit featuring an interview with Lisa in preparation for this gathering. 

Q4U: What lesson do you take from the analogy of the missing puzzle piece?

thoughtful thursdays: x's at mary's, prayer at 'a and c'

Neece and I have dubbed the day for our mutual blog, An Atheist and a Catholic, "Thoughtful Thursdays." We both love alliteration, and this goes along well with the other alliteration-happy theme days I've instituted here on Peace Garden Mama. Even though our blog is separate, I will try to send reminders on Thursday that we've posted. Today, we're exploring what we wish others knew more about our worldviews. Neece is defining atheism, and I'm talking about prayer and what it means to me as a Catholic. Come and join us there if you'd like.

I'm also a guest blogger today on my good friend Mary's blog, Play off the Page. I helped Mary find her way into the blogging world, and she's taking off like wildfire. I'm so proud of her. Mary has engaged in the A to Z blogging challenge, and asked me to cover the "X" blog. I was happy to do so and enjoyed sharing my thoughts on this under-appreciated letter!

May your day be extraordinarily thoughtful!

PGM

writing wednesdays: a gal you'll want to meet

I've been privileged to have been introduced to several people who have turned out to be writing mentors of one flavor or another. One of them is Lenore Puhek, a fellow Montanan, and I'm featuring her today on Peace Garden Writer. Her encouragement and insight has been vital to me as a writer, and I hope you'll garner some tips from her today.

Just know that Lenore often appears publicly in the garb of her book characters, so I'm not sure who you're going to find today, but I guarantee it will be a treat! :)

Wishing you a peace-filled Writing Wednesday!

mama mondays: colors from holy week and easter 2011

Mama Mondays has been quiet this Lent, but with the onset of Easter, so, too, the colors of family life at the Salonen household come alive again!

Let's go back to Holy Thursday. Our bedroom carpet began the "changing of colors" when, after four years of mocking us with its orange-speckled shag look, it was given a new start:

Old carpet

New carpet

Our second-grader helped prepare us for the Mass of the Lord's Supper that evening with this:

We ended the day with a small birthday celebration in honor of my dear mother, who turned (gulp) 70 (which means that I am no spring chick myself). What I love most about this picture is my son's inadvertent facial movements to match Grandma's candle-blowing...

My Good Friday started out a bit disconcerting when my friend Vicky said she'd been experiencing a migraine, and that our planned visit might be cut short. But by the time I arrived at her home, things had begun to turn around. She colored my morning, nearly two hours' worth, with her lively and beautiful spirit. You wouldn't guess if you didn't know that Vicky, mother of two boys, is in the middle of a serious fight with breast cancer. (Please keep her in your prayers. Updates and ways to help can be found on her blog, The Westra World.) Thank you again, Vicky, for the blessed visit!

After Good Friday services, we sneaked in a light dinner (pbj sandwiches), then commenced the longtime tradition of egg-coloring.

 

Saturday brought a last meal with Grandma Jane at a local Japanese restaurant, and a first guitar lesson by Daddy Troy with Nick, 6, who learned about three notes in the first go-around.

It also included some Saturday afternoon and evening Easter shopping, resulting in these colors: (Can you tell our teen son woke up in the morning and asked, "Hey Mom, when do we get to take pictures? Can we do it now, please, please?!")

The 11 a.m. Mass at our church was so beautiful, the altar speckled with lilies and other flowers of varying colors, the stained-glass windows sparkling, the music particularly lively with songs celebrating that "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it!"

I will fess up now; we had a few tense moments over the course of Holy Week as we struggled to get everything in order for the grand feast, visits and the kids being out of school for a couple days. But it was one of the most vibrant Easter days in memroy with the sun shining Sunday, finally, after several continuous bleak, rainy days. Indeed, hope has sprung!

Happy Easter! And may your spring be beautiful, colorful and full of the kind of hope that only a daily relationship with the Risen Lord can offer.

Q4U: What came to life for you this Easter?

faith fridays: when failing is winning

"We are not meant to 'succeed' at Lent but to fail and know our dependence upon Grace." - Elizabeth Scalia (p.53, Happy Catholic)

Isn't it nice to know this? That we needn't have been perfect this Lent? That the point is really not so much that we have moved through it flawlessly, but that we have moved through it, grasping for our Lord each step of the way?

I don't know about you, but I didn't conduct myself perfectly this Lent. I got behind on one of my daily commitments, and I allowed details of my work to claim my attention to the point of not keeping up with my devotionals on a regular basis. There were Fridays I forgot it was Friday and inadvertently ate meat. Usually, I remembered at some point in the day, sometimes too late, but yes, I messed up a few times. 

As enthusiastic as I was at Lent's beginning, anticipating the amazing, spiritual experience that is always a possibility, some days I slogged through, more closely resembling a tired caterpillar than a butterfly on its way to a grand celebration. 

But with this quote, I'm reminded that we'll never achieve perfection in this life. We can only capture glimpses of it, sometimes just enough to keep us pushing forward. This life was never meant to be a utopia. Rather, it was meant to be a training ground for the true banquet that will come later -- after the groveling has been groveled out, the tough lessons learned, the grief and joy experienced to a point of total surrender to Christ. 

The dichotomy of the Christian walk came at me twice this Holy Week when friends in two separate faith groups reflecting on Passion Sunday asked, "Why the palm branches and celebration coupled with the sorrowful reading of Christ's death?" It struck me this year, too -- life and death so closely paired, contrasting each other just like this Lent did to me. 

One gal offered a possible answer. Apparently in ancient times, the waving of palms signaled war. Given that, the confluence of apparent celebration and impending death doesn't seem so contradictory.

I think this is an important reality to grasp, this glaring contrast of what are lives here are meant to be. In failing we win, in giving up we gain, and in dying we live. When looked at this way, we have nothing to lose by heading into enemy territory with confidence, knowing that even if it appears our side is losing, in the end, we will rise triumphantly and have abundance of life beyond anything we could have imagined. 

On a related note, my atheist friend and I have enjoyed a great first week of our collaborative blog, An Atheist and a Catholic. We've reached nearly 1,000 views and were even mentioned on the online website of a national Catholic magazine. I see this effort as demonstrative in the "failing is winning" category. Neece and I have failed in the hopes we might have had at the start to convince the other that our belief is the most right, but in that "failing," a friendship has been formed that already has borne fruit.

One more quote before I leave to move through the final piece of Lent -- the commemoration of Jesus' death -- and onto the most glorious day of the Church year:

"Blessed are they who persevere under trial, because when they have stood the test, they will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him."  - James 1:12

Q4U: What are you willing to sacrifice for a greater good?

writing wednesdays: b is for...

Well, you'll have to head over the Peace Garden Writer to find out!

B there or B circular. :)

PGM

mama mondays: happy 6th birthday nick!

Our "baby" turned 6 on Saturday!

Here's a glimpse of what he did on his birthday:

It's also a teaser for what I'm going to be writing about on Wednesday. (Hint: there's something special about the book!) Note that he's wearing his new summer shirt from Grandpa and Grandma Beauclair, and swimming trunks, even though snow covered the ground outside.

I'll be back writing regular-length Monday posts soon. It's Holy Week, and Easter is coming. My Lenten fast will be over then and the real celebrating can begin!

Happy Birthday Nick! I love you!

faith fridays: on lenten surprises and coming alive

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." - Dr. Howard Thurman

I found this quote on p. 64 of Happy Catholic, a book I've been reading this past week, and it resonated powerfully with me.

As we inch toward the end of Lent, I find myself in awe by what has unfolded these past weeks. Every Lent as far back as I can remember has included at least a surprise or two, and this year has not disappointed. Maybe that's why I typically begin Lent with a sense of great expectation. It seems no matter how much I try to plan my Lent, inevitably it becomes a journey full of details I could not have predicted as I set upon the path.

The biggest surprise for me this Lent has been the flowering of a project I could not have conceived of at the season's beginning. In fact, even a week ago, this project had not begun to come to light, and yet, here it is: a public collaboration between me and my new friend, Neece, an atheist. Our blog, An Atheist and a Catholic, launched yesterday, and so far so good.

A few weeks back I mentioned our email relationship in a post here. And then, just this past weekend, I had a rather zany idea that perhaps Neece and I might share some of our private thoughts in public so that others might benefit from what we have learned. To my surprise and delight, she agreed, and here we are, just days after we started a lively and quick-thinking back-and-forth over email to determine color scheme, font and other details. It's been an exhilarating, hopeful endeavor through which I've come alive!

Please don't misunderstand and think it's all been roses. In the past four months since I first met Neece through the blogging world, our email discussions have more often resembled the dreaded thistle -- at least initially. Recently we each admitted that at times we were scared to check our inboxes in the event we might find email messages from one another that contained something controversial. But we've worked through so much muck, that instead of being on separate islands yelling at one another as some might expect, we are standing on a patch of virtual beach, two little girls with different colored suits wanting to make friends and show others it's possible.

It won't be easy. But if the way in which we've worked together over the past week is any indication how it's going to go, I have a very positive feeling about it, and Neece does, too. In the first hours of this venture, we were on our way to 200 visitors. Early indications are that people from both ends of the worldview spectrum are eager to see what we'll share. Yep, pressure's on, but we're ready! I can't help but think of Pope Benedict's recent challenge to believers and non-believers to begin trying to come together with the mission of creating a duet rather than a duel. That's what this feels like to me at this point -- more duet -- even if it wasn't always easy getting here.

Recently, I've become more mindful of what's fueling this vitality charging through Neece's and my inboxes. I would call it grace. I realize Neece wouldn't name it that, but to me, when things are humming along in what feels like extraordinary fashion, I can't help but consider that a supernatural power may have entered in. It's up to Neece and I whether we'll make good on that grace, to use it well, but there's no doubt in my mind it's there and the source of the excitement I feel.

If you can, stop and visit us on Thursdays. For now, here's a link to our introduction as well as our journeys and hopes post.

Q4U: What, if any, Lenten surprises have come your way this season?

debut of 'an atheist and a catholic' blog

Well, today is a big day for me and my friend Neece. We are both bloggers living hundreds of miles from one another collaborating to launch a new blog; one we feel may be fairly unique in all of blogging history. When else have two people with diametrically opposed worldviews had the courage to take one another by the hand and boldly step into the public arena with their thoughts? If you know of such an effort, I'd love to hear of it so I can take notes! Until then, I'm going to assume we're breaking some fairly uncharted territory with this. It's a bit scary, but incredibly exciting as well. Neece and I have been talking for four months through email. We've worked through a lot, including ways to respectfully approach one another even with our vastly different ideas about many things. I'm proud of what we've accomplished so far and have been delighted at how we've collaborated in the past four days in particular.

That's right, four months to work through our relationship to the point of considering each other friends, and four days to come up with a concept for and design a blog together. The whole process went extremely smoothly as we worked out color scheme, header details and what our blog would be called, among other particulars. I'm very impressed with Neece's skills and I think she was happy with my input as well. It was a lot of fun putting this together. Now all we need are a few readers!

We're trying to keep this reasonable. To that end, we'll post just once a week each Thursday. Our respective words will be distinguished by text color. And our comment policy, due to the potentially volatile nature of our having such different viewpoints, will be fairly strict. We do want to engage with readers and we'll accept disagreement, but we will expect that it be done in a respectful way.

This is a bit of an experiment, so bear with us. If you know of anyone who might be interested in learning with us, please send them here: http://www.atheistcatholic.com/

Our introductory post, which went live the other day with only a few people knowing, explains more about how it was that we came together. And our launch post explaining our journeys and hopes should be up by the time you read this.

Thanks in advance for your interest in An Atheist and a Catholic. We look forward to its potential, and to our continued explorations of our worldviews, as well as our commonalities, hopes and dreams.

Q4U: So what do you think? Are we out of our minds, or do you find this as intriguing a concept as we do?

writing wednesdays: blog anniversary!

I can't believe it's been a whole year since I started Peace Garden Writer, my break-off blog that really began here on Peace Garden Mama. I've truly enjoyed Writing Wednesdays and how it has evolved. And I thank you all for your part in that, through your gracious encouragement.

I celebrate that and something else on Peace Garden Writer today. Please come by and toast with me!

PGM

comments policy

Peace Garden Mama welcomes and encourages comments from readers, but also retains the right not to publish those that do not lend themselves to a peaceable outcome (in keeping with the theme, naturally). Feel free to respectfully disagree but please keep any unedifying thoughts private, lest the energy of the mission to inform and inspire turns into something else. Any comments from "anonymous," unless the writer identifies himself or herself within the comments box, are not welcomed. The exceptions: when the person who comments is my mother or is clearly someone I know who does not understand the procedure for leaving comments. This is all in keeping with the journalism training I received in the olden days, at which time ethics demanded deletion of unnamed sources. Thanks for your consideration, and as always, for stopping by!

faith fridays: head over heels

 

Okay, I admit it: I am totally and completely head over heels in love!

You might assume I'm talking about my husband. I hope you will not consider it scandalous at the further admission that I'm not, though I do love him very much. But right now I'm talking about my Lord!

Some of you know exactly what I mean. Others might be thinking, "Well I love God, sure, but head over heels? Isn't that going a bit overboard?"

If searching for stolen moments to be with your beloved is wrong, if desiring to continue getting to know him is not admirable, if wanting to live for him is anything less than worthy, then yes, I am overboard. But what can I say? I'm helplessly smitten.

There are many reasons for my passion, but if I had to pinpoint one or two main sources of late, I'd break it down to this: atheists and converts. Hanging around with some of each in the past year or so has compelled me even further into the arms of my Creator. In fact, if there were to be a wedding feast, I would invite a couple of the most influential to be my best man and maid of honor.

Perhaps the atheist-turned-Catholic who has most recently inspired me can say it better than I. I just finished a fabulous book, Atheist to Catholic: Stories of Conversion, which includes 11 accounts from non-believers who first rejected, then discovered and fell head over heels in love with, God. The first to share his story, science fiction author and philosopher John C. Wright, said this of what his newfound faith has meant to him (p. 6): 

"The truth to which my lifetime as a philosopher had been devoted turned out to be a living thing. It turned and looked at me. Something from beyond the reach of time and space, more fundamental than reality, reached across the universe and broke into my soul and changed me. This was not a case of defense and prosecution laying out evidence for my reason to pick through: I was altered down to the root of my being. It was like falling in love. If you have not been in love, I cannot explain it. If you have, you will raise a glass with me in toast."

Oh, it's just too good to stop there. I have to share a little more: 

"Naturally I was overjoyed. First, I discovered that the death sentence under which all life suffers no longer applied to me. The governor, so to speak, had phoned. Second, imagine how puffed up with pride you'd be to find out you were the son of Caesar, and all the empire would be yours. How much more then to find out you were the child of God!"

See what I mean? I'm telling you, these converts are pure blessings from God. They remind us of the jewel we hold in our very hands! They turn our heads toward that which we have taken for granted and say, "Do you not understand what a tremendous gift you've been given?" 

On the other side of the coin are those who offer no recognition whatsoever to an all-loving God. Recently I was talking to my atheist friend about prayer. With utmost honesty, she admitted that she just doesn't get it; to her, prayer is an utter waste of time, completely pointless.

Au contraire, I say! To the one who knows God, this is the most precious and valuable act we can undertake! I think of what my life would be like without prayer, and I don't mean just those precious hours I've spent in Adoration intently focused on my Lord, but in the small, everyday conversations I have with Him on a daily basis, sometimes second by second. Even when there are no words, the keen awareness that my loving God is with me every moment of my day is cause for euphoria . When I consider what my life would be like without this vital connection, a foreboding darkness comes over me. I imagine it as an existence both shallow and cold, and myself drained of my very lifeblood.

My atheist friend truly feels no lack. She claims to be living a happy and fulfilled life. I trust her sincerity. But I also equate it to living life before stumbling upon your Beloved. Life can be good even in the absence of God, if you're a lucky soul, but how much greener the grass looks when true love enters in!

I will continue praying that someday she will stumble upon the key that has kept her heart from being freed to see the One who has kept her life in motion all these years. Until that day, I am filled with gratitude that through her questions and doubting, my faith continues to be renewed and re-energized, the gift of it all the more cherished!

Yes, I am in love -- in love with the King!  

Q4U: Where are you at in your relationship with God? Have things grown stale, or do you feel as if you are in a perpetual courting or honeymoon phase?

writing wednesdays: squeezing the lemon

According to my mother, my grandfather, her dad, used to say, "They're squeezing the lemon!" whenever he saw someone going through a yellow light at a stoplight. I've always loved this expression. And yes, that's an admission: I've squeezed a few lemons in my time. Okay, not necessarily proud of that, but there it is.

Today, I offer an update to yesterday's post on Peace Garden Writer that has a little lemon-squeezing woven into it, though indirectly. I think you'll get the correlation. Then again, maybe it's a stretch.

Either way, watch those lemons. They can be deceiving!

Peace,

Roxane

tuesday special: ants, they're making me itch!

I'm full of critters today:

Ants in pants.

Butterflies in stomach.

And a bit squirrely besides.

Find out why on Peace Garden Writer, where I've posted a day early because of these crazy critters.

faith fridays: burning-building rescue

If your child were in this burning building, would you attempt to rescue him or her?

The other day on Catholic radio, a priest (can't remember his name unfortunately) was discussing God's love for us, as well as His great desire to forgive us. And he used the words of a saint (again, I'm not sure which one, but I believe it was St. John Vianney) to make his point: 

"The Lord is more anxious to forgive us than a mother is to pull her baby out of a burning building."

Wow, thought I. Now that's a visual that I, as a mother, can easily, powerfully grasp. As a parent, of course, there's no question that if my child were in a burning building, I would hasten to go to my child and rescue him or her, even if it meant putting myself in harm's way. The thought of God wanting my attention and love even more than the passion that would drive me to such lengths is overwhelmingly beautiful.

God doesn't want us to come to Him with our sins so that we will approach Him like a child deserving shame. God wants reconciliation with us so He can get to the good stuff -- the part where we've been released from our wrongs and can be fully drawn into God's unconditional embrace of pure love.

How much better I can understand God's love for me knowing the love I have for my own children. In fact, I wonder if God's plan for many of us includes having children so that we might see His love for us more clearly through our parent eyes. Only when we recognize the passionate love we have for our own can we begin to see the depths of God's love for us. 

This relates to something else on which I've been focused this Lent. We're going through some tough times working to raise two teens and their three younger siblings. And I've been feeling a bit like that mother running to the smoky building, seeing that a few of my kids are inside it, and trying to think how I might rescue them.

One in particular has brought me to my knees in worry and concern. My husband and I are having to grapple with some big decisions about how we might best help this child to succeed, and we are weary. This has been a long struggle and the answers remain unclear. And yet, I'm not anywhere close to giving up. In moments, yes, I feel exasperated, and that seems like the thing to do -- just walk away. And yet I can't, no more than God could walk away from me if I were to be caught in an inferno.

I must continue searching for a way in, a way to reach my child. But if anything has become clear to me in this process, it's the realization that I cannot walk into that building alone. I cannot save my child without the help of the One who loves my child even more than I do. In fact, my part in my child's salvation is quite small, even though I feel the bigness of it in my own soul.

I don't have the answers, but God does. I must trust He will lead me to my children in times of peril like a firefighter with a hose, spraying water to clear away the smoke and flames so that I might see what I need to see, with the hope that love, reconciliation and life everlasting will be possible in the aftermath. 

Q4U: When have you felt God's rescuing hand in your life?