Nurturing Your Marriage

I was recently asked to give a talk to a group of young married women on nurturing marriage.  I jumped at the opportunity thinking I could talk all day and all night about the ways I've stumbled in my efforts at being the ideal wife.  I could talk about what I would have done differently, what I would have, could have and should have and what I was going to....

But then it dawned on me that a young wife doesn't want to hear about where I have gone wrong...what use is that?  We can all go wrong by ourselves, we have no need of anybody to tell us how to do it.  So I changed my track and decided to tell those young women, many of them in their 20s with small children, how to nourish their marriage in practical, bite sized and do-able ways.  A treatise on the value of marriage and how it is good for the spouses, for the children and for society is useless without some ideas of something I can do today and now.

Well anyway the talk went well and the girls were bursting with resolutions and plans and asked me to come back soon and speak again.  So I've decided to share here the gist of what gems I came up with which so enthused those young women.  Lots of the ideas I have gleaned myself and put to effective use in my own marriage from my two favourite sources.  Dr Ray Guarendi and Hallie Lord who blogs at Moxie Wife so I just want to acknowledge and thank both of them.  Others are just things I came up with myself which I found worked well. 

Now just note, this was a morning talk for young mothers/wives so my ideas in this are mainly aimed at women.  I'm considering asking a special guest blogger (my own husband) to write from the husband's point of view on the same topic.

So for your perusal, here's the gist of what I said...

First of all...and you can do this if you're reading too...just pause and close your eyes for 20 seconds...which is actually a long enough time...and think to yourself  about your own marriage and where you think the holes are.  Everybody has things that jump out as the most obvious flaws or shortcomings.

17...18...19...OK...20.

Now, thinking about those things I'm willing to bet most of them began with

'HE should...'

'I wish HE'd...'

'I'd love HIM to...'

When I said that every single one of the girls nodded and laughed guiltily.  This is exactly what I expected because it's exactly the way I think too.

So here is where we start..it's very very easy to see the faults of the other.  The more we know them, as in our spouse, the more obvious they are to us.  What's not so easy to see is where I am going wrong.  I bet not a single girl thought to herself...'if only I was more patient, less petty...or whatever it is'.

Not one of us can or ever will reach the point where we can say 'Ah yes, I'm perfect now!'  No human relationship ever reaches that point either.  We need to chip away, chip away all the time.  Struggle against our weaknesses, try to build up our qualities.  So too with marriage.  Whether we're hot off the press and rockin'...or whether we're floundering...or nice and comfortable but nothing to write home about...every one of our marriages can be better.  But as we've heard time and again, we can only improve ourselves.  And funnily enough, a change in ourselves often precipitates the desired change in the other.

So now, pause again for another 20 seconds and this time think what is the one thing I could most do better in.  Painful and all as it might be, it'll probably jump straight into mind.  Try it...

18...19...20..

So number one is start with myself.  And here's a few ideas.

Don't Presume Ill-Will

I worked in a place for several years that had such a horrible toxic atmosphere.  Everybody was suspicious of everybody else.  The problem was that ill will was the default presumption.  If someone parked in a particular spot the presumption was that the intent dad been to get at someone else rather than it happened to be just an available spot.  It made for such un-necessary suffering.

I know I've been guilty of this in my own marriage.  There have been days when my husband has gone off to work completely oblivious to some action or slight or omission he has committed.  Of course, as hour passes hour the misdemeanour blows out of all proportion.  By lunchtime I'm in a rage which has softened to a silent simmer by the time my poor innocent husband arrives home not realising that when he made his coffee that morning it was with the water I had earmarked for my coffee...and he did it on purpose...and if he loved me he would have put me first...so he doesn't love me...and so on and so on. And he has no idea why he's getting the silent treatment.

You don't need me to tell you it's babyish, unfair and wrong and just too typical.

Nip those negative presumptions in the bud!!! Resentment is poisonous to marriage.

Have Manners

So simple.  Please.  Thank you.

Surely if strangers are due our manners, how much more so should our spouse be treated with manners.

Yesterday in a busy moment and eager to catch my husband before he had passed the shops I sent him a single word text.

Milk

That was it. Milk...we needed it...get it.

He arrived home a bit later he put the milk on the fridge then slumped into the chair burning up with a fever.  He had turned his car around to go back for the milk I had asked for with such a lack of finesse.

So remember manners.  They really make a difference.

And sorry goes a long way too.

Be Complimentary

This is so obvious and yet so easily forgotten.  We notice the one thing that's undone and not the millions of things that are done.  As a mother I know it's a bit deflating whenever I go to a lot of effort to cook a meal and everybody eats it without so much as a simple 'this is nice'.  Husbands are people too and everybody appreciates being acknowledged.  If your husband does something nice, or good, or well...or if he looks good...tell him!!

Date Night

I have come to the conclusion that neglecting date-night is bordering on negligence.  Here's how I came to that conclusion.  Find a babysitter, maybe start a swap arrangement with another couple so both can get a night out from time to time.  Or maybe at least an at home date and pull out all the stops.  Which brings us nicely onto...

Intimacy

This is interesting, and sad.

I was looking for a picture to add to this piece in relation to marital intimacy.  I keyed in a few different words hoping to find a nice romantic picture depicting marriage.  Emm...looking up marriage, better make sure your children aren't looking over your shoulder if you are trying to bring them up with the thousands of years understanding of Christian sacramental marriage.  Try 'lovers' the last thing you'll see is a married couple depicted as lovers.  Romance...kiss...nuh! Look up married couple you'll find jokes about henpecked unhappy husbands and domineering nasty wives.

Ok..I'm exaggerating to make my point, but not that much.  How is it that married sexual love is understood in our culture to mean lack-lustre, non-existent or perfunctory.  Why is that?  Is it because it's true?  The most recent research tells us the opposite...married sex is more fulfilling, not less so.  But when babies are small and we're busy busy busy, intimacy and romance can be put to the bottom of the list or looked at as just one more 'task'.  This is a mistake because it is precisely through the physical relationship of the spouses the bond is most accurately expressed...and if you believe in the Christian understanding of marriage, a source of grace and blessing for both husband and wife and for the marriage itself.


So it's not something that should be put on the back burner due to lack of time or tiredness.  When we're busy and overwhelmed there is nothing wrong with earmarking time for this.  Spontaneity is all very well but did an amazing meal ever make itself without being planned for, thought about, ingredients bought?  Maybe in the castle of Beauty and the Beast that happened but in real life the best things are often pre-arranged.

First of all...tidy your bedroom (so you're not noticing the piles of newspapers, laundry and overflowing cupboards.)

Then...

Candles, music, thinking nice things during the day, some new massage oils, extra care with our make up, remembering why you married him...go for it.  It is not demeaning to make an effort to look nice for your husband.

And in one of my favourite tips from Moxie Wife, have a little peep into your undies drawer...what's in there?  Are they cotton, comfy, washed out...? How about your 'boudoir' attire?  Is it the t-shirt and shorts you've been wearing since you were 18?  Baggy?  shapeless? When I read this post by Hallie I had to admit that comfort was my priority.  Silky luxury didn't seem to match six children and a busy life and I realised that whenever I visited TKMaxx, the lingerie and sexy nightdress section were simply sections that it didn't even cross my mind that they might apply to me.  Well...why not me?  Why not you??

I have to say, this was the tip which most of my young wives liked the best and discussed the most afterwards.  I think there were a few unscheduled stop-offs at the lingerie shops on the way home.

Finally...my last tip (for now)

Generosity

I think it's fair to say that as wives we all love foot massages, back scratches, to be romanced and complimented.  We love our husbands to fulfill those lovely wishes.  How about us?  Men are not women.  Can we stretch ourselves a bit more in generosity?  Forget that 'headache'...you know you haven't got one.  Laziness is often a more correct term.  Send him a text telling him you're looking forward to time together instead of something he's almost afraid to suggest because we can make it so clear we're being 'put-upon'.  For a wife emotional intimacy is the preferred route to physical intimacy.  For a husband it is more often physical intimacy which reinforces the emotional bond. Be generous...it won't go un -noticed.

Well.  Good luck with those few ideas.  Our next door neighbour has two rose trees in his front garden.  I will never forget the day he planted them. It took him the whole day to dig the enormous holes he planted them in.  He had a trailer-load of fertiliser delivered and every last bit of it went into those rose roots.  He spent at least an hour watering the trees once he had dug them in.  To be honest I thought he was a bit over the top at the time.   I don't think that any more.  Those two rose trees are magnificent.  Marriage is like that you know.  It thanks us according to our effort.

Who knows where the road will lead us 

Only a fool would say 

But if you'll let me love you 

It's for sure I'm gonna love you all the way all the way 

(All The Way. Frank Sinatra)

We're Not Designed For Hate

It's been so long since my last post I hope you haven't forgotten me!  I've been overwhelmed by writing and listening and trying to do my bit here in my own little country which is sitting on the cusp of a wave and is either going to gently enter calm waters or crash down into a trough of destruction.  If you don't know already, I'm talking about the fact that the Irish Government is proposing to legalise abortion this summer in a law that all experts agree will sooner rather than later lead to abortion on demand up to birth. 

But that's not what my post is about, it's about something else, it could be life issues, it could be politics, culture or anything else where people have different viewpoints.  

Last night my husband told me I woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him how difficult the last few weeks have been for me.  I have zero memory of this incident but it doesn't surprise me.  Being midweek I'd had nothing stronger than a mug of camomile tea before bed so there was no vino induced veritas kicking in.  It would however seem that in half slumber veritas will also show it's face. 

I'll tell you what's been happening. Now I'm not telling this to bring the subject around to me, it could be, and is, anyone.  If you've been following this blog for any length of time you'll know that I have spoken about online nastiness  more than once.  It's spoken and warned about in schools, workplaces and so on and though everyone laments it, it's rampant. Of course, nobody ever admits to being the person behind those pseudonyms  from whose fingers flow toxic hostility that is sometimes chilling to witness.  I really really wonder what some people are like in real life. Can they hide the side of their personalities that are unleashed anonymously on Twitter and other forums? Does it seep into their interpersonal relationships? Their family lives?

A few weeks ago, maybe two weeks, I penned a letter to e-mail to the elected representatives of my country on the topic of this proposed legislation. 

This is what I wrote:

Dear Deputy,

From the perspective of someone who was advised to have an abortion by an Irish Obstetrician on the grounds of foetal anomaly and who every day is thankful she didn't take that advice, I am contacting you to convey my dismay at the upcoming proposed Irish abortion legislation, entitled 'Protection Of Life During Pregnancy Bill'.

Three and a half years ago at my routine ultrasound scan, my daughter, Louise, was diagnosed with a major life threatening congenital heart defect and a rare brain anomaly called Dandy-Walker Syndrome.  The very first thing our obstetrician suggested was to 'go to England'. We decided against that and to give our daughter a shot at life, however long or short that might be.

Throughout my pregnancy we felt judged and punished for deciding not to abort our child and were treated with great unkindness throughout the pregnancy.  To be honest it was a relief to transfer to the care of Our Lady's Children's Hospital Crumlin, where our baby was called her name from our first visit there long before she was born, in contrast to the refusal of our OB  to not only not call her Louise, but to not even refer to her as a baby.  To this day this has caused me profound pain.

I'd like to add that the suggestion to abort was made without the offer of an opinion of a cardiologist or a neurologist.

Because our daughter's condition is very rare, I am in contact with families across the English speaking world that are in the same situation.  I have yet to 'meet' a single family who were not encouraged, or more commonly, pressured, to abort their child.  In fact I came across a UK obstetric guideline that TOP should be recommended in EVERY CASE of Dandy-Walker.  On top of that, the same site cites an abortion rate of 50% for all babies with CHD, many of whom could have been given long lives with the help of surgery.

Had we taken the advice of our doctor, we would have thought we were 'saving' a child from a life of pain and disability.  We would never have known that Louise was about to defy all grim predictions, that she was about to defy her genes and that she would grow into a delightful little girl who has reached all her milestones with time to share.  She has had three major cardiac surgeries in her three years but her surgeon told us just this spring that he expects her to lead a long and normal life with just some restrictions such as she will never compete for Ireland in The Olympic Games.  He also told us that should she ever become pregnant, he and his colleagues will see and her half a heart through.  This is opposite to what we were told before she was born.

We also would never have known that this child was about to blow us away with a love we never could have imagined.  We would never have witnessed the effect she has had on people who will never meet her but whose lives she touched in profound ways...and this was long before she was born.  

As you know, there is already pressure and expectation to extend abortion legislation for foetal anomaly.  In my experience legality becomes expectation and quite quickly a 'duty'. The inclusion of a threat of suicide in the legislation is so wide open to misuse.  Nobody can disprove the validity of a threat of this nature and the widespread use of the mental health clause in UK abortion law rings alarm bells for Ireland.

 There is nothing in Irish human nature or psyche to suggest that we are different to every single other country in the world.

To take the life of an innocent person, sick or well, is such a terrible injustice and wrong to the core.  Surely the duty of society is to offer something better than this hopeless and terrible terrible act.

On behalf of babies like Louise, I implore people to stand for what is right and to do whatever is in your power to stop this legislation from passing.   

Yours sincerely,

etc.

All I did was tell my story and ask they take it into account. 

After I wrote it and read it over I thought it was pretty good (if I said so myself) and had the idea of sending it to the letters page of the country's newspapers, including the regional and local papers. 

About twenty minutes after I clicked 'send' I got an e-mail from a journalist with a national newspaper asking me could she ring me and could they get a photograph of Louise. Of course I was delighted that my letter would now be an article and maybe more people would read it.  So I spoke to the girl and she promised a story faithful to what I'd told her. 

I presumed the story would feature somewhere about page 16.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next!

I was preparing to go to bed a day or so later when my sister messaged me to say my face had just flashed up on the screen during a late night political programme which was having a look at the next day's front pages.

I was the headline article!! 

It also took up all of page two and three.

I felt the blood run from my face at the sudden realisation that 'they'll be out for my head now'. This is not a topic where a certain viewpoint is welcomed. I was so shocked! I couldn't sleep. Delighted and horrified at the same time.

Next day all hell broke loose. I got emails from other newspapers, radio, TV.  I figured that some news sources were weary of the shabby treatment and unveiled lack or balance and were happy to run with a life affirming story of hope.

Then I foolishly looked at Twitter.

When you find an assistant editor of a major national newspaper live tweeting anything he could find about you in his online research it's a bit un-nerving.  When that live tweet is joined by a staff writer of a different major online news site, adding links to comments (on the same topic as the article) I'd left on sites, links to my blog (both my blogs spiked that day with the pages being viewed the ones which looked like 'juicy' topics), trying to find out my Twitter handle, which luckily I'd changed about a year ago, links to a blogpost (about the sadness and beauty of miscarriage if they'd bothered to read it) that was published by a Catholic newspaper as an article last year...it moves into the realm of creepy. 

Next day online commentators were researching family links and any other links they could find, and it wasn't so they could praise my gorgeous little girl.  And then, the inevitable accusation that my story about Louise was fabricated by me and my husband for the purposes of agenda.

Now here's my point. I knew this was going to happen. My blog about Louise had from the start the hope that another family would glean enough courage to give their baby a shot at life.  I've never been ashamed or tried to hide that I stand for life, or my Christian, and more specifically Catholic, beliefs. Why should I be ashamed? 

I honestly really don't care about being the butt of this nastiness. Ultimately it's not personal, I'm just the vehicle for a message, it could be anyone who speaks an uncomfortable message. I'm happy to be in a position to say something.  When I was in Africa on a work camp I remember the battered sign that a lot of lorries and vans had which read 'Let Them Say' I've remembered that time and again over the years and if I was Carlsberg and I did mottos, that might well be it. 

Let them say.

Let them...

So why then can I not fall asleep these nights? Why have I had a two week low grade headache? Why did I wake up my husband during the night to admit to something my subconscious self can see but which my awake self denies? 

I have had far more lovely things said to me since I clicked 'send'. Today my green-grocer thanked me for saying what I said and gave me a free bag of spinach. Maybe he realises I probably need some of Popeye's power snack!!  The nasty witch hunters have been relatively minor.  

So why have they affected me? 

I think this is why:

We were made by God. Who is Love.  He made us out of Love. Our destination is Love. We're designed to be loved. 

We're not designed to be hated. Nobody is. When it's aimed our direction it's disconcerting. Peace does not come from hating and being hated. Peace comes from the freedom to love and be loved. That's our design. 

I normally have some (what I think is a) profound resolution at the end of my posts. Not this time. Maybe the words of St Francis...where there is hatred let me sow love. I don't know those people's baggage and it's not my business to. Maybe it's just a lesson to me to remember not to react with the same...although if my husband were to write here he'd tell you a few of the colourful mouthfuls that have come from me this past week...we're all a work in progress.

Well anyway, that's why there's been a gap in my blogging mojo.  I have some nice posts on my mind to write.  Unless they GET me, that is. 

A Bomb Through The Eyes Of A Child

I have had experience of two bombs in my life.  Both of the experiences have left a photographic if surreal imprint in my memory.  I have been listening today to interviews with those present or in the vicinity of the Boston Marathon Bombs and it has brought back those memories into the forefront of my mind, and the thoughts of what fear must have gone through the mind of my father that day.

It was 17th of May 1974.  My family had taken the trip to Dublin city centre to shop for errands.  In those days that's what shopping was.  It was an occasional occurrence, you had a list of essential items to purchase, often including material or yarn with which to make clothes for the children, and you bought them. Then you went home. The children didn't get treats in every shop...or in any shop for that matter, unless it had already been planned and budgeted for. Families in Ireland were short of money in the 1970s.

All of my family were there except for the eldest, my then 14 year old brother who had decided to stay at home to study for his state exams which were approaching a few weeks later. My father parked in the usual car park, a reasonably priced large park manned by a little pay-booth located to the back of Henry St, now the location of The Ilac Centre Shopping Centre.  I'll always remember the cobbled, roundy-stoned dusty surface of that car park, and I'm pretty sure my father does too...since he probably counted every stone in it a few hours later.

Our day seemed uneventful.  My mother needed some items in Arnotts, a slightly more up-market store which would be more fun from her point of view.  She discussed with Daddy whether she should go there first but they decided to get the more mundane items out of the way first, a decision which might possibly have saved all our lives. My mother was about the same age as I am now. My four sisters and I tramped around the necessary shops following my parents.  Men's trousers in Boyers.  Fabric for a dress for my sister in Hickeys.  We then went to the treasure trove for mothers of young families...Guineys on Talbot St., where you could buy children's vests and knickers, nylons,  tea-towels, bed-linen and all sorts of household essentials which were generally good quality at reasonable prices. As usual we spent quite some time there as my mother had quite a list.

Finally we went to Parnell St where there was a little shop which sold sheet music where my father bought some music books for piano and for teaching his pupils in the school where he was the principal.

 I remember this shop very well because my youngest sister, then 2, got momentarily lost and waited where she was as instructed until my parents retrieved her from outside the door of the shop, a little Georgian building with several steps up to the front door.  I may be wrong but I think the building may have been duck-egg blue with a navy door.

My parents remembered this shop very well too because they paused to buy an evening newspaper from the street-seller near the music shop.

With the essentials done my father said he'd take the little ones back to the car so that my mother and two older sisters could do the rest of the shopping without the fractious tiredness of the smaller children.  I was the eldest of those three.  This was a great occasion I remember because my father bought the three of us ice-cream cones, a very special treat.

After a while, when the two smallest sisters were either asleep or playing in the back of the car I was sitting beside my father in the passenger seat.  Time was ticking on and my mother and sisters should be back soon.

Then, out of the blue we heard a tremendous bang.  I thought it sounded like builders had dropped a huge steel girder from a height.  I clearly remember my father say in shock

"That's a bomb!"

Within seconds, from right behind the buildings near us I saw a huge mushroom cloud of smoke. I can't remember the immediate time frame but very soon after that people came running in panic to their cars and drove away from the vicinity as quickly as possible. I don't remember the second bang but my father does...the bomb which killed, among others, the newspaper seller.

My father told the three of us to lie face down in the back of the car and he covered us with his big anorak which he always kept in the car.  At this stage I could hear the three different sirens of police, fire engines and ambulances.

And we waited...

...and waited...

...the sound of cars speeding out of the car-park faded into the distance, leaving...us..the only car left in the car-park...

...silence and sirens...

....and we waited...

It's only now as an adult I can appreciate the terror my father must have felt waiting in that silent car-park for his young wife and two eldest daughters.  He couldn't risk leaving to look for them as he couldn't endanger his youngest children.  He must have been frozen in fear.

Finally, the three returned,  bags in hand, completely bewildered as to what was happening. They had been inside a large department store the whole time and had heard nothing until they made to return to the car.

So with his five little daughters lying face down in the car, my father left for home, not knowing whether he was driving to safety or into more bombs.  The quays, the route out of Dublin was choc-a-bloc with cars and ambulances trying to get through.  It must have been a singularly terrifying experience for my parents.

Meanwhile, my brother back home had the television on in the background while he was studying.  There was only one TV station at the time which was interrupted by the newsflash announcing multiple deaths and injuries at the very shop he knew my mother always went to, Guineys.

We had no telephone and neither did any of our neighbours so there was nothing he could do but stand on the step...for several hours...to find out whether his family were ever coming home.

This was my 1st Holy Communion taken one month later.

Other families weren't so lucky.

Here's a short little tribute to the 33 who died that day, including an entire young family, parents and their two baby girls.  A nine-month unborn baby was later acknowledged as the 34th victim.

I was in close proximity to another bomb as a young adult, along with my parents again and one of the sisters who had been 'missing' that day in 1974.  We were returning from visiting my Grandmother and aunt in Northern Ireland and I was availing of the opportunity for some driving experience.  We were passing the border military checkpoint with the patrol soldier examining my driving licence when a bomb went off a very short distance away, missing the target of the soldier.  We were in very real danger but I do not want to write about it.  I saw unbridled terror in that young boy's face that day, I would never like to see that again.

Thankfully nobody was hurt in that incident.

Please pray for victims of terrorism, no matter where they are in the world.  It is almost always innocent people and children who suffer from this terrible terrible blight on our planet.

May God forgive the people who carry out these acts.

Gratitude And Lack Thereof

This is the Easter Season which I really love.  It's powerful, solemn and then the great joy of Easter Sunday.  What's not to love about it?  During these weeks I'd say people read the Gospels more than at any other time of the year in order to more fully experience Easter.  This year, though, I have been thinking more about another Gospel story...that of the ten lepers, of whom only one came back to say thanks.  And why am I thinking of this story at this time?  I'll tell you why.  But first to refresh your memory...have a little look at this...

...I'll wait for you...




...did you watch it? You did? Ok...

Well when we hear this story I think most of us like to align ourselves with the leper who came back to say thanks.  Like in any story with a moral, we'd always do whatever it was the good guy did.  Nobody likes to think of themselves as the shoddy, the lazy...or the ungrateful.

When I started this blog, I promised my Facebook friends that it would be a Louise-Free Zone as I figured (and still do) that there must be people who are sick to the teeth of hearing about her, however inspirational her story may be.  I also wanted to write about other things unconnected to her...things my life's experiences have taught me...things I think about and then the home 'stuff' which is good to help uplift the culturally demeaned opinion of work traditionally associated with mothers and women and the homes in which most of us abide. If I write even in a light-hearted way about my many mistakes and flaws, it's not for the dirty-linen-washing value, it's for the sake of the lesson to be learned from them.

So that said, I am now realising that to totally ban mention of probably the most life-changing and profound experience of my life from this blog would be something of a lack of authenticity.  I haven't managed it anyway as she has been mentioned on and off since the start anyway, one cannot just compartmentalise one's life....this event to this Pinboard...this event to that one...that's a fault in our Western Culture which has led to so many problems...dividing the human person into parts as though they had no connection to each other...the body...the psyche...the soul...so much damage.  So while this most definitely is not Louise's blog, a lot of the lessons I've learned are as a result of her...including this one which shocked even ME.

Read on....

As you may know, Louise was diagnosed with two major anomalies in the womb.  A heart one and a brain one.  You can just imagine the heartfelt prayers that followed.  Actually, you probably can't because I would never have imagined the depth of pleading with God I was capable of.  I never cared as much before you see.  I prayed and prayed and prayed...please save her...please cure her...

I still accepted whatever was going to present itself on our plate but it's permissible to pray for anything it's permissible to hope for.  And my goodness, did I HOPE.  I prayed our little girl wouldn't die, I prayed the children could cuddle her alive, I prayed she'd survive her surgeries, I prayed she wouldn't be disabled...or disfigured (because the thought of people turning their eyes away from her in the pram in embarrassment  broke my heart) I prayed she'd be pretty...not out of vanity but because whatever she could have on her side I wanted that for her.  I prayed she'd have a tough personality and not a placid temperament too accepting of her disadvantage...I prayed that people would love her.

And while I was praying all these things, my human faults were fighting with me.  Oh yes, we were great, and super and brave and so on and so on...but I was honestly ready to put my fist through the face of the next person who told us that God had specially chosen us...as though Christianity was a computer game.  We'd reached level 10 and had now unlocked our new weapon...the disabled child...

I still don't buy the theory that God made our child sick...He allows it and I can clearly see the great good resulting from her sufferings, but I don't think He was rewarding us by breaking our child.  I really don't think that's how God operates.

Anyway...back to my pleadings with God...there were times when I doubted my own faith in my prayers.  I 100% believed that God could cure Louise...but I didn't think He would.  Because quite quickly I could see the good she was doing and I thought that maybe she was doing more good sick than she would do were she well.  Then I thought that maybe me thinking that was actually preventing her cure because 'If you had faith as small as a mustard seed...' (Matt 17~20) (the colon/semi-colon button on my computer is broken!)
These are all the meandering thoughts I had during those heady months and thank God for John who patiently listened at length to my faulty thinking and reassured me time and again that God is not sitting there waiting for us to be perfect before He decides what best to do.

So when Louise was born we were prepared for a very sick, disabled child who would require intervention to live and that any milestones she were to reach would only be with huge input from therapists of every sort.

What we got was a child
...who required intervention to live..
...who is not disfigured (her face-mark is not always noticeable)
...who is pretty...
...who is definitely equipped with one tough personality...
and who is not disabled.

And this is where the 10 lepers comes in.

When I returned from the appointment with her neurologist who told us he felt that Louise would develop as a typical child with no neurological problems....

...I cannot believe what I heard coming out of my mouth...

"If He was going to cure her wouldn't you think He'd have cured the thing that could kill her!"

It was such an ungrateful thing to say.  I didn't mean it. I'm so shocked that I even thought it for a second. I am beyond grateful for how Louise is turning out.  I know and remember every day when she spills or floods or gets at make-up that we could just as easily have been still trying to get her to roll over on a mat on the floor, or to utter her first word.  I am forever grateful.  But at that moment I was like the spoilt brats who spit at their parents on Twitter every Christmas complaining that they got a white instead of a black iPhone.

So while we all like to think that we would be the thankful leper....maybe we wouldn't.

You know the posts about thinking of what we're thankful for and then thank God for that?
I'm suggesting we make a list of the things we're not thankful for...and pray about those things.  And thank Him for all He does that we don't even appreciate and He does it anyway.

Maybe one or two of those lepers came back later? Who knows?

And finally, the wisdom of my husband who reminded me that doctors can do a lot with Louise's heart.  There would have been nothing they could have done to make her not disabled.  God doesn't do for us what we can do for ourselves.

Marriage Worth Protecting

I came upon a website a few days ago and this post which really grabbed my attention.  The title itself would grab anybody's attention 16 Ways I Blew My Marriage.  I began reading it and couldn't stop.  When I came to the end of the post I noticed there was another post called The Other 15 Ways I Blew My Marriage...That makes it 31 ways this guy blew his marriage...or make that two marriages.  Who would want advice on marriage from somebody with such a poor track record?  Nobody you'd think, but this guy has clearly thought long and hard about what went wrong.  It takes great humility to take the blame for something so sad and momentous as a marriage break-up.  Not many achieve that and spend their lives blaming the other person or at least excusing themselves from blame with the 'it just didn't work out' line.

I don't need to write a treatise on the problems and pressures marriage is facing in today's culture, both from within and without.  Marriage is fragile, just like us, made of earthen vessels, easily broken when not protected.  So how did this man blow his marriages?  Did he cheat on his wife?  Was he cruel? Nasty? It doesn't appear that he was any of those things.  What really grabbed me was just how small and simple are the tiny fissures which can shatter the strongest of rocks from repeated freeze-thaw-freeze-thaw action.  The damage isn't noticeable when the fissures are microscopic but when the rock shatters, it's too late then.

There is not one of us who can say we're perfect.  Not one of us has the perfect spouse.  We are all struggling through.  Sometimes (as is my slightly over-dramatic tendency) I wonder to myself what if.  What if  John died?  What would be the things I'd regret not having done for him.  Believe me, the list is extensive and I don't think I'm all that bad as wives go. But I know those are the things that would play on my mind because time can't be relived, I'd be so sorry for not making his life nicer at those tiny moments.  They are always small, but small is important.  Then...what if I died...what would John be sorry about?   Not in a babyish 'he'll be sorry then' way but what would he regret he hadn't done a bit better?  What are the would haves, could haves, should haves?  The list I've come up with in my macabre thoughts is a lot shorter than mine but there are things...and maybe the fact that the first thing on this man's post is also the first thing I have on my imaginary list is maybe why I read it to the end.  Because it is long, and I know that people don't like to read long posts (so I'm sorry mine are always too long!)

Marriage can be shattered by huge destructive actions like adultery and addiction but as you will read, what breaks more marriages is the 'small stuff'.  You know the phrase 'Don't sweat the small stuff'  I've never really believed in that philosophy.  Yes sweat the small stuff because it's the small stuff that counts.  Small stuff that build up love and security, both in marriage and in every other sort of relationship.  Sweat the small stuff...love the small stuff...because usually that's all we have to offer.

So anyway, when I got to the end of the two posts I spotted that he has mad them available as a printable pdf document.  I'm linking it here and I'm going to ask you to join me in printing it off and sitting down with your spouse and have a read of it together.  The fact that it's not your marriage you're reading about it will be easier to discuss what you can personally do together to make your marriage better.  Every marriage can be improved, every person can be improved and I think the rewards to be reaped will be more than worth the effort.  It's easier to recognise where we fail ourselves than to have another (your spouse) point it out to you. Husbands...make sure you read this too, the marriage isn't just the project of your wife...it's your responsibility to be the husband God has called you to be.

Here's the link to the printable version.

31 Ways I Blew My Marriage

Good luck with that and have fun.  Let me know what you think in the comments box.  I really am disproportionately delighted when a comment appears.

Prostitution, Sex-Ed & Teenagers

Before I start I want to warn you that this post and the links within it are adult material.

At the moment I am researching a post on sexuality education for middle school aged children. I want to do it properly and recommend the best sites and resources because at that age it is important to respect the delicate innocence of childhood and not barge in in an inappropriate fashion...least of all grouped in with their  co-ed class peers. I have ordered quite a few bits and pieces to review before I write it.

In the meantime I want to write this important post because I think the two topics are linked. How we understand the human person, including ourselves, will definitely be reflected in our behaviour toward others in all the varying types of interactions we have, be it saying please and thank you to a shopkeeper to the way we treat people in the area of sexuality.

The organisation in my country which works tirelessly in the area of prostitution and trying to help those caught up in this degrading 'trade' to get out of it is called Ruhama. Only yesterday I read a post they put up about the sheer numbers of girls involved in prostitution in Ireland. Roughly up to 800 girls in every nook and cranny of the country, this number is verified by the police. On a very quiet night each if these girls sees 6 men. On a typical night 12-15. According to both police and Ruhama, there is no 'typical' man involved in buying sex, they come from every walk of life and if anything those with more disposable income are more likely to spend it in this way. This Irish survey on escort agency 'clients' comes up with some harrowing statistics.

I am not going to address the criminal aspect of prostitution here in this post, I don't have enough, or any, inside information to present that isn't available elsewhere. Instead, I want to have a look at the men and how I think there is a very real link between the erroneous understanding of the human person and the willingness to avail of prostitution.

These are 'ordinary' men, husbands, brothers, fathers, employers, work colleagues, men we meet in the normal activities of our days. They more than likely come across as decent guys. So what mindset leads to this shady and exploitative activity?

Very recently a joint charity fundraiser took place between a girls secondary school and the corresponding boys school in the same town. It was a 'Blind-Date' event along the lines of the very entertaining Cilla Black show of the 1990s. The teenage girls and boys took turns to ask the mystery contestants questions and choose who to go an a date with based on the answers. All of the contestants were aged between 15-18 and I am sad to say had between 11 to 14 years of 'Catholic' education completed. 11 to 14 years of captive audience who could have been given a foundation of excellence in how to look at other human beings.

In the presence of their peers and teachers from both schools here is a small example of the questions and answers that were received with great applause by not only the other students but also with great hilarity by the (in loco parentis) adult teachers to whom part of the responsibility of these young people's moral formation has been entrusted.

Girl: "Boy...Describe yourself in three words"

Boy: "Young, Fun and Full of ***"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Girl: "Boy...what one item should you bring on a date?"

Boy: "A wheelchair. Because you'll need it by the time I'm finished with you!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Boy: "Girl...what is your favourite word?"

Girl. "Con-Tra-Cep-Tion"

(Out of all the beautiful, wondrous and uplifting things in the world, a teenage girl can find nothing more attractive than a chemical hormone which she has been led to believe will enable her to engage in consequence free sexual activity...I wonder where the condom for her human heart is?  To the best of my knowledge it has yet to be invented.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These are not even the most explicit examples, I wouldn't even write some of what those teenagers came out with.

It seems that out of 24 contestants, two boys and two girls did not come out with this type of answer. None of those four were 'picked'.

Now I know some will accuse me of prudishness, it's only a laugh and the kids are not actually intending to act out their 'bravado'.

However, that is not my point. My point is that this is the level of how (these) teenagers view the opposite sex and that they think it is acceptable to speak in such a demeaning way about themselves, their self-identity and their attitude to their peers of the opposite sex.  Their idea of a blind date was not to get to know the girl or boy in order to discern whether they would like to see more of them.  Rather, each teenager's expectation of the date was an opportunity for loveless, sexual activity with no regard for the actual person behind the screen.  I have spoken several times before in this blog about looking at a depersonalised version of the people we meet, I think it is demonstrated so strongly in this teenage event.

One of the saddest things that struck me about this, apart from how the adults stood over this demeaning behaviour in the other people's children they are supposed to be guiding.  I wondered whether the parents would be proud of a son implying that he would be so abusive to a girl he didn't even know as to suggest she'd need a wheelchair...by the time he'd  finished with her.  Would the girl's parents be content that this is what they'd hoped for their child?  Do we remember that not only girl hearts are precious?  Boy hearts are precious too.

That was terrible but I think even sadder is that both the boys and the girls who came out with the most sexually explicit and morally absent questions and replies were the ones who were 'chosen'.  In other words, teenagers not only are settling for less...they are actually seeking out the less.

The teenagers who were in the audience of this event thought the replies were cool and hilarious and really could see nothing at all wrong. I find it hard to believe that this school and these young people are any different, or worse than the vast majority of other schools.  I don't suggest that these are bad kids, I'm suggesting they haven't a clue about authentic sexuality, how sex has something to do with love, how it has something to do with permanence, how it has something to do with new life.  Why do young adults have such a poor understanding of their own nature?  Because it seems to me that the focus of sex education in schools in Western culture has little to do with aiming for excellence but rather is an exercise in damage control.

Now how is this related to prostitution? Yes, I know, the world of prostitution is many faceted and I have no intention whatsoever of giving a simplistic answer-I am just addressing this one thought.

At the expectation risk of being called over-reactive I can see a link.  According to police, by and large, the men who avail of prostitution are ordinary guys.  Is it such a surprise that boys who emerge from the education system with no concept of the personal and absolute precious value of the other are turning into men who think it's fine to pass money to a pimp for sexual 'services' from a precious, unique and unrepeatable person?

Prostitution can be tackled by criminalising the purchase of sex, by clamping down on human trafficking, by all sorts of legal channels.  But the problem is also a moral one.  Every single man who pays for sex is also someone.  When teenagers have such an empty understanding of sexuality, can we be surprised that every single night up to 9,600 'Ordinary Guys' have such little regard for themselves, for their families and most of all for the (usually trafficked) girls who they queue up for their turn to abuse.

In 2009 a research study was published into why men pay for prostitution.  It makes very disturbing reading.  Clearly there is a moral problem going on here.  No human fault ever just manifests itself fully blown out of nowhere.  All human attitudes and habits begin as something small...maybe in this case a simple 'joke' in a high-school fundraiser, where smutty answers at a blind date show  got a good laugh, even from the adults?

And that is why I am putting even more effort into finding good resources to recommend to help us guide the children and teens in our care to aim for the excellent way.  I can't end prostitution, but if one ordinary guy learns love and respect and self-giving, maybe instead of 9,600 men, there will be 9,599 and that one less will be your son.

One by one by one.  Lets DO it!!

And for our girls...check out this Dump Him List...


The last thing I'll say is I wonder about the wisdom of a school standing over this fundraiser, rude comments or not.  Teenage dating is a huge issue for many parents and is something which needs to be considered very carefully.  I'll blog about that another time.

My Lovely Day

This post isn't going to contain any profound thoughts or advice or observations.

This post is for me so that I'll remember a lovely day.

Today was the first time that somebody special took Louise for the day that wasn't to babysit her while I fulfilled something I needed to do or go somewhere pre-arranged.  Today was just for the joy of having her and to spend a special day with her before her surgery.  To be quite honest it was the first time in I can't remember when that I've actually had some unscheduled hours to fill.  It's definitely been before Louise was born and I'm thinking it was long before that too because during the entire pregnancy with her we were having work done on the house so there was plenty of hustle and bustle.  I never mind that or count the time or lack thereof that I have to myself but last night when it was confirmed that Louise was having her fun day away from me I started to wonder what I should do with this unusual situation.

I asked my husband what he thought I should do, I didn't want to waste it just cleaning the house again.  He said he thought I should put on some weepy songs for half an hour and have a cry.  Hmmm....good idea since he knows me so well...but that wasn't going to take up too much time.  Luckily my friend posted this first thing this morning so I got the cry out of the way early in the day.  This will make you cry.

So this is what I did-

First of all I whizzed around to make sure the house was orderly before Louise was collected to minimise temptation to clean the house.  Then I gave her her bath so that she would be sweet-smelling and curly for her special day.  Gave her morning break and waved goodbye.  

Then I had a coffee and a little treat I'd bought myself late-night shopping in the supermarket the evening before.

Then I sat there.

Debated whether I should grab the opportunity to deep clean the house after all.

Answered the phone to my husband who told me not to be ridiculous.

So I packed my gym bag and grabbed a three year old voucher I had for the adjoining spa to chance my arm that it might still be valid.

On the way I went to the bottle bank.

Then I went into the church where there is adoration and spent a little time there thinking of hospitals and machines and drain wounds and asked for some help.

Then I went to the gym/spa and 'innocently' asked to check out my voucher.  It turned out that unlike a lot of places, vouchers here don't become useless as time passes.  I was delighted and then a bit disappointed when she seemed doubtful whether there was a slot available today.  I didn't quite play 'my baby's having surgery' card but not far off it.  Well I managed to get a slot for a back massage a while later.  So first I went and did a quick workout and managed to dry my hair and put on make-up in a leisurely fashion for a change.  I had some time before my appointment so I headed back into town and had a wee nosey through the wool and patterns in this gorgeous shop which is in a part of the town I rarely have reason to be.  I didn't buy anything because I already have some unfinished projects but it was lovely to have a little look.

Back to the spa for my massage.  As I was getting ready the girl asked me whether I had tight muscles.  I answered no I didn't think so...

Then proceeded to float away in thoughts of  tropical beaches such as Pinterest is filled with...

...and tried to overlook the gritty crunching sound my muscles were making 

like the sound of a car driving over gravel...realising that maybe I was a bit stressed after all.

Then a few minutes to relax in the...well...relaxing area...

And then home in time for a silent coffee and my first 

online Piano Lesson in three years.

It took me quite a while to choose what song to start learning

but I finally settled on this...

Now if I can just find my smelling salts I can actually start learning the song...Oh swoon!!

I've mastered the first four notes.

Then the children came home.

I've really had a lovely day.