Pressure-free math chats during play:
“If the friends each bring two acorns to the party how many are there?”
“If a friend has six acorns and gives one to a buddy how many are left?”
“If the friends split their acorns fairly how many will they each get?”
“This friend worked so hard to pick all these acorns. How many did he collect?”
St John Bosco has long been my model for true Christian education. Gentle, empathetic, wise. I've read much about his work with boys, and even material about his mother who worked along with him. Somehow yesterday was the first I heard of St Mary Mazzerello, whom he was to train to do for girls the work he was doing among the boys. I found this wonderful story (there is also a booklet available) called Gold Without Alloy: A Brief Account of the Life of St. Mary Mazzarello by Paul Aronica, SDB online here.
"A hot Italian sun beat mercilessly on the handful of workers in the rocky field. Mopping the sweat off their well-tanned faces, they labored on, their hands burrowing into the soil, skillfully setting the delicate vines in place and tying them tenderly with wisps of straw onto thin sticks. But it was so hot in the glaring sun! Gradually, one by one, they began edging away toward the shade, till a single girl remained in the field, her sturdy, young body bent firmly over her task, her swift fingers deftly caressing the vines and sealing them into place. Now and then, as a lock of her black hair fell across her eyes, a quick movement of the hand pushed it back into place under a white kerchief – and then immediately back to work! "Mary," called a friend, "come on in out of the hot sun. It's much more comfortable here!"
Mary looked up. "But no work was ever done in the shade!" she laughed. "Since when have you all become afraid of the sun?"
"We're not afraid. We just prefer to wait till it sets lower in the sky!" retorted a young man.
"Cowards!" the girl in the field chided. "The sun is God's gift to us! You'll never have any wine this winter if you hide in the shade!"
A peasant woman laughed heartily. "Some girl, that Mary Mazzarello! She can beat anyone of us in the field, and that goes for the men too! No use calling her. She'll stay there till her line is done and then go on to ours!"
"Mary," teased a young fellow resting under a tree, "did you hear that? Is it true you can beat us working on the farm?"
"On the farm and anywhere!" came the decided answer.
"She's right," interrupted a young woman. "You've never done a day's work equal to hers."
"No use teasing her, lad," broke in Mr. Mazzarello, going out to join his daughter in the field. "Ever since she was just a tiny thing of a girl, she has never given in to anybody. Her mother and I know too well!"
But as Mary bent back to her work and the perspiration trickled freely down her cheeks, her thoughts were far from boasting, even far from the friends that called out to her from the shade. Her eyes were fixed on the tiny vines that seemed to look to her hands for assistance in their first moment of life. Those hands, roughened and cut by pebbles and briars, were meant to be helpful hands, to labor for others – hands of tender mercy to comfort and heal, to lift and strengthen. She was eighteen now, and, though most girls at eighteen think only of love and marriage and a warm hearth and children nestling in their arms, such thoughts seemed alien to her mind. Much as she loved her people, their priceless heritage of Faith and simplicity, much as she admired the sincere and well-intentioned approaches of the young men of Mornese whom her mother made her find every opportunity to meet, she could not think of herself as a housewife. She felt there was another call for her, other tasks than a housewife's reserved for her. What it might be, who could tell?
Father Pestarino, the pastor of Mornese, who had guided her in her spiritual life ever since her First Communion, would tell her in good time when prayer and meditation had revealed God's will to him. Till then, she would labor, as peasant among her people, yet not entirely one of them…"
read the rest here
More about St Mary:
The Salesian Sisters have produced a film with English dubbing.
February's read for me was Ida Elizabeth. I did not know if I was going to stick with it, much less enjoy it a great deal. I should have remembered that Undset pulls you along slowly, slowly dropping little nuggets to chew on. Then she finally ties up big ideas at the end. This was the case and I am glad for having persevered.
One such nugget came about when Ida was considering a friend's extreme frustration with what she considered repetitive drudge work. "The very fact that (it)was waiting to be done over again, as soon as she had finished a job of work." Her friend, "complained until she positively shrieked that housework was so monotonous: no sooner had she prepared a meal than it was eaten up, and then it was time to think of another, and when one had washed up and put things away, one knew that in a couple of hours' time one would have to take them out again."
Of course the same is true of the laundry, weeding the garden, making the beds, dusting the mantle, cleaning out the car/purse/bathroom. As soon as you complete these tasks disorder sets back in. There are few once-and-done tasks and this is true in the workplace as well. Ida reflects on this and comes to this conclusion.
“One might also look at it this way:
…that it was the good and happy moments when one had finished one’s work that recurred –
when she had finished the morning's work and put the rooms in order,
when for instance she had gotten the stove to burn nicely with the window still open so that she felt the fresh draught of air through the room,
or when supper was laid in the kitchen on a Saturday evening with something out of the ordinary and she could call the boys in
packing up a dress with tissue paper and pins ready to send,
or simply putting away a pair of shoes that she had polished and washing her fingers afterwards.”
The work returns. So does the satisfaction of work done well.
This morning during my reading I dug a little deeper into the original "twelve steps" program St Benedict laid out for us. It is not to break addiction from substances but from pride, which is ultimately even deadlier. The original core list is here:
Step 1. A first step is taken when one consciously obeys all of God’s commandments, never ignoring them but always holding within himself a fear of God in his heart.
Step 2. The second step is achieved when one thinks not about pleasing himself but instead follow the injunction of the Lord.
Step 3. The third step is reached when out of love of God, one obediently submits to a superior in imitation of the Lord.
Step 4. The fourth step is achieved when one, under obedience, patiently and quietly endures all thing that are inflicted on him. It should make no difference whether the trials are painful, unjust or even completely beyond his understanding; he should neither tire nor give up.
Step 5. The fifth step is reached when one humbly discloses to his superior all the evil thoughts in his heart, as well as those faults and evil acts he has actually committed.
Step 6. To achieve the sixth step one must without qualms accept all that is crude and harsh; at all times he considers himself a poor and worthless workman.
Step 7. The seventh step is attained when one not only confesses that he is an inferior and common wretch, but believes it to his very core. He must be willing to humble himself.
Step 8. One reaches the eighth step of humility when he does only that which is demanded by the common rule of his seniors.
Step 9. The ninth step can be achieved when one, practicing silence, only speaks when asked a question.
Step 10. The tenth step is climbed when one restrains himself from undue laughter and frivolity.
Step 11. To reach the eleventh step one must speak gently, without jests, but simply, seriously, tersely, rationally and softly.
Step 12. The final step is attained only when one can at all times show humility not only in his appearance and actions, but also in his heart.
I printed off this meditation of the 12 Steps with daily challenges to add to the Morning Basket.
As well as this commentary.
Yes, it is truly counter-cultural. It is also truly freeing. It not thinking less of yourself, but as the quote says, thinking of yourself less. Breaking that stranglehold that Self has over us.
The full text of St Benedict's Rule is here.
These are the most beautiful pictures I have from St. Patrick's Day and they were actually taken today since yesterday was so full. There was no month of St Patricks Irish dancing and pub performing this year thanks to Covid protocols. Instead, the high school soccer team began its season yesterday, having transferred fall sports to spring. We had a very late post game dinner of corned beef in the crock pot and baked potatoes and the girls made our standby soda bread recipe here. Our informal family reviews of this recipe are very positive.
We watched PS I Love You this week which always makes me exceptionally emotional. (insert disclaimer for any inappropriate content) It also makes me miss my big girls tremendously. Alannah suggested a St Patrick's playlist on Spotify so I happily blasted that while driving to and from the game.
We did read the long biography from Butler's Lives and of course read the Lorica. It was not picture perfect the day of, nor was it a well orchestrated "all at one time" celebration. It was a bits and pieces, spirit of the day sort of thing, as it usually works out here. I pace myself and fit things in as they can be peacefully be fit in. That looks different every year.
The funniest Irish quote I saw this year has me chuckling still. My friend Molly, who shares my unique combination of love for all things Irish AND for Polish pottery shared this one by Yeats:
“Being Irish, she had an abiding sense of tragedy which sustained her through temporary periods of joy.”
We ARE a dramatic bunch with an acute sense of the tragic lol.
So here I am, a day late and a dollar short, likely. I don't create content. (though I don't begrudge those in a position to do so) I recall and record over here. And sometimes I recreate as I did today, having the tea and soda bread leftovers when we had a little more time to enjoy.
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.
I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.
I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In obedience of angels,
In service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In preachings of the apostles,
In faiths of confessors,
In innocence of virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.
I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me;
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's hosts to save me
From snares of the devil,
From temptations of vices,
From every one who desires me ill,
Afar and anear,
Alone or in a mulitude.
I summon today all these powers between me and evil,
Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.
Christ shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that reward may come to me in abundance.
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through a confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation
St. Patrick (ca. 377)
The forecast sounded ominous all last week. A fierce winter storm was projected to move through our area and power outages were expected. We replaced the generator we sold when we left the mountain West and stocked up on food and water just in case. While outages did happen further north, it was truly magical in our neck of the woods so we just ate our stash of snacks, watched movies, and laughed at the dogs diving through the snow.
I have always loved a snow day. As a child growing up in Wisconsin it was like winning the lottery. Before dawn we would sit glued to the television set watching the scrolling list of schools and government buildings closed, hoping to see the name that meant you got a whole day off to do whatever you liked. That usually meant curling up on the sofa with a bowl of cereal insulated from the world outside. Naps. TV. Playing with the dog outside. I still get a little rush when we have a reprieve from our usual routine and the world around us quiets in the hush of falling snow.
We have been hunkered down for three days now. There was two feet of snow on the deck last night. The neighbors finally made a path to the next closest plowed road. I expect ours will be cleared tomorrow. Then the temps are predicted to rise and it will all be gone again. In the meantime we were treated to the most beautiful blue skies today. There is nothing like the sky after a good snow.
In all the world
There’s nothing like
The sound of falling snow –
The only noise
I’ve ever known
That makes the clocks move slow.
The only sound
That sweeps away
The din of city streets,
And wraps around,
In soft embrace,
’Most everyone it meets.
A sound that’s not
A sound at all –
A quiet, soft and dear,
That comforts all
The sleepy souls
Who sit, and watch, and hear.
~ Barbara Vance
One of my favorite organizing books has been Beautifully Organized by Nikki Boyd of At Home with Nikki. I am inspired by everything she does – her book, website, and YouTube channel. I have been treating myself to her videos and then tackling similar areas of my home. We have a LONG way to go to get to Nikki level but small victories are very satisfying, even if our spaces are used daily and need regular reorganizing.
Last week was the kitchen video which prompted me to clean out most of the cabinets and rearrange. Next up is the under sink project.
One thing I caught in the kitchen junk drawer video was a thought about how having many branded items contributes to visual clutter. Even if the space is relatively tidy it can feel chaotic when there are multiple labels and colors competing. I realize now that visually appealing decor is often less about the big ticket items like sofas or tables and more about all those utilitarian things that make up the lion's share of our homes. The closets, the drawers, the flatware, the measuring cups, the towels. Having those items well organized and visually cohesive makes a big impact.
Change, big and small, always creates a certain amount of tension. As Frankl said in last month's book club read, some tension is optimal. It provides the impetus needed to propel us forward. Without it we risk stagnation. There is a sweet spot, however, between sloth and exertion, between stimulus and overwhelm. That sweet spot is different for each of us and for our children.
Small people begin by tackling the hourly transitions between activities. Sleeping to waking, eating to dressing, arrivals and departures. These can range from relatively smooth to hellish and we have a lot to do with how they play out. The links below give good tips for easing those touchstones in a child's day and encouraging them to meet them with peace.
Jennifer McIntosh shared a really insightful reflection about our older kids. They are not immune to the stresses life changes bring. That looks different with an older child. As she says, "Some act out…others withdraw." She encourages us to consider the tension they present at these times as cues. They serve as indicators that our child is experiencing a transition and could use our help.
"At touchstones along the way that child will signal that he needs help transitioning and making the next step."
If we are honest, we probably respond similarly in times of transition from place to place, during job changes, dietary changes, and so on. Instead of meeting that tension with irritability it is helpful to consider what is behind it to better meet needs. We can troubleshoot the real challenges vs reacting to the emotion.
They need our help, not our opposition. It is usually less a test of wills and more an underdeveloped ability to articulate core problems. We are on the same team.
A little group of local friends are reading together this year. It is probably flat out absurd to add more titles to my ever growing stacks when I have school literature to cover with the children as well. The workload isn't getting any lighter and the state of the nation is nuts. Creative ventures tend to serve as counter weight for me though. I need beauty and big thoughts to balance out the mundane and the downright difficult. Seen in that light, more books seem to be just the ticket.
In January we read Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. It prompted lots of questions and ideas personally and among friends. We discussed some overlap with Vice Admiral James Stockton. That pulled in the Stoics which he drew from in his imprisonment. I am attaching the notes, quotes, and links to related things that I collected last month. These are not especially well-organized so be advised. They are simply a very informal brain dump.
Book challenges and book lists of modern classics are filling my imagination these days. All suggestions are welcome! I hope you are feeding your soul and growing your mind during these rather bleak late winter days.
Some moments hit you that way. I realize that this is no longer just my story but a complex, interwoven story that is ours, theirs. The love among these brothers and sisters, between them and us, between each other – it is complicated, messy, and tangible.
It is shown by the one who volunteers to be the designated dance parent driving to a downtown hotel in a busy metro area.
It is shown by the one remaining home to tackle nagging chores that have been chipping away at morale.
It is shown by a brother and his girlfriend proudly surprising mother and sisters with chocolate and flowers.
It is shown by a sister, awake early and carefully readying her sister for competition.
It is shown by a brother bringing his baby to his brother's condo to catch up.
It is shown every time the faraway siblings take time off work and make the long trek home to be there for one of the others.
"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." - John 13:34-35
Starry Sky Journal 
