Well 2019 was a YEAR. I've never been one to say "good riddance" to a particular year, but if I had to pick one 2019 is a solid contender.

2019 brought a house fire, being out of our home for 5 weeks, finding out we were pregnant, miscarrying, finding an ovarian cystic tumor and STILL miscarrying, miscarrying again. Lots of deaths and sickness and losses.

But it also brought my first acting castings in the Twin Cities, shooting a commercial, settling into a fun new homeschool groove, the kids in therapies graduating from their therapies.

Even the bad stuff brought some good stuff. Living in an extended stay hotel during the fire clean up meant we spent just about every morning at the Y. That's the only reason I was around to meet Joan, who turned out to be the great-granddaughter of the original builders of our house.

This is when Joan (or Gigi as the kids call her) came back to see the house for the first time in over 60 years.
This was taken just before her 90th birthday!

Perhaps the biggest change has been not writing publicly nearly as often as I have in the past. Partly it's a time issue (theater productions are crazy time intensive) but also because a lot more of my discussions and writing have been happening offline.

Going through back to back miscarriages this year, and being open about it online, led to an opening of shared pain and need for healing that I was not expecting. Over the past nearly 7 months of this process, I've gotten messages from women going through their first miscarriages, women still struggling with past losses, others with multiple losses, and friends of parents experiencing loss. If nothing else, this year has shown that there is still a massive unmet need for services and understanding when it comes to grief and loss.

I keep coming back to stories.
My degree is in Anthropology, and I've been drawn to the power of stories for a long time.
That's what I've been writing.
I've been writing the story of this house and it's original family as I uncover historical documents and get information from the family. The story of my own extended family as records are released and things come to light. I've been working on lesser known saint stories and folklore theory recently (and will hopefully have something to show you about that at some point.)

Here were the top three posts from this year. They are all very story based. The best part about stories is how they are both personal and widely applicable. You'll see what I mean.

Acting Boldly: Why We Need It For Healthy Parishes

Back in March, when I had no idea just how sideways this year would get, I wrote up a piece of theater advice that I think makes parish life much better. Act boldly, be a real community.

I ended up needing to take my own advice in a big way. It's been rough and painful, but there are glimmers of hope there that will hopefully help others.

A Grief Continued: Back to Back Miscarriages and Taking Space

That time when I got real and concise with the internet and got wildly differing responses.

This was a popular post, but a lot of people's last post. Some felt personally called out by this one. Some felt like they couldn't handle "this darkness". Some told me they would read me again "when you're ready to be a cheerful person again."

Still there were some who let me know they had registered our babies in their parish's book of remembrance. Lots of prayers. Lots of "me too"s and "I wish I had said this during my losses".

Grief isn't fun or pretty. But as a community, and as a Church, we've got to get better at it. For the sake of our humanity.

When Baby's First Shoes are Prescription

I debated for a really long time whether to share this story.

There are many stories about our family life and personal lives that I have chosen not to share out of privacy concerns. Often because they are not my story to tell. 

This one was tricky. The genetic condition that Felicity has is something I share. As far as we know I'm the first in my family to have significant hyper-mobility, and until the past few years I didn't know it was genetic. I thought this is just what happens when you've been dancing since the age of 4.

We are incredibly blessed to live in Minnesota where in home physical therapy and early intervention is free and readily available. Since this post, Felicity no longer needs her braces, has caught up with her gross motor skills, and graduated from her weekly PT. She has worked hard to be where she is now, but I know from being a few more decades down the road that this is a lifelong condition.

I don't know how things are going to play out for her, but it's a blessing to have walked this road first. 

What did 2019 bring you? Did you have a favorite story of this year? Any transformations for you?

Letting Go of Policing Advent

Advent is just around the corner, and perhaps the cringy-est liturgical living ghost is about to appear: the Advent Grinch.

I get it. It bothers you that December is filled with Christmas parties, sales, community events, and  movies. Because it is NOT Christmas, and you DON'T want to celebrate it already.
However, it's probably bad for evangelization to put down the secular world trying to participate in a season it vaguely remembers and longs to hold. It seems counterproductive to be against celebrating such an important season, even if it is done a little off time. They're trying.

Instead of making Advent a protest against the secular world celebrating imperfectly, it seems far more charitable to stop policing Advent as a negative and start celebrating it as a positive.

The Little Lent

If you want to make sure your family is clear on the difference between Advent and Christmas, a simple way to start is embracing the penitential aspect of the season. Have you noticed how the liturgical color is purple, the same as during Lent? Advent is a "little Lent", a second preparatory and penitential season. Picking a mortification as individuals or as a family can help focus the season.

This comes with a caveat - your mortification cannot force the mortification of others. It's just unkind and negates the individual discipline of the practice. If you want to give up "going to Christmas parties during Advent" largely because you want a reason to not attend those gatherings, that might need a little more examination. Are you really doing a private mortification to prepare your heart for the coming of Christmas or are you falling into pride? Telling your friend that you aren't attending their party because it's inappropriate to have Christmas parties in Advent is probably going to embarrass your friend and cause harm to that relationship.
You don't have to accept every invitation, but you do have to exercise kindness and charity.


Pick and Choose

Although we are generally able to better accept Lent will look a little different for each of us, we aren't always as generous with variation when it comes to Advent. Instead it's easy to fall into the trap of trying to do ALL THE THINGS. Jesse Tree, Advent wreath, special feast days and the feast days that don't resonate with your family.

 You don't have to do any of it. It's nice, they can make good memories, but if it is causing you to be stretched thin or beat yourself up for forgetting the Jessie Tree again - maybe you're better off simplifying.


It's fine to do what works for you.

The only Advent traditions we do are the ones that have deep meaning for us, we enjoy doing, and that help us orient towards Christmas. For us St. Nicholas, St. Lucia, Ember Days, Advent wreath, and slow decorating make the cut. That's it.

We don't do much of anything for Our Lady of Guadalupe now, we don't do Jessie Tree, hunt for the baby Jesus, or many other fine and dandy traditions. What you do once does not actually mean you are trapped in celebrating in a particular way forever. Extend yourself the grace to grow and change, and it makes it easier to extend that to others.

Lean into the Christmas season.

The single easiest way I have found to not be an Advent Grinch is to make my Christmas season radically different from Advent. We lean way into the Christmas season. The 12 Days of Christmas (Christmas to Epiphany) are both highly celebratory and laid back. We are off from school and outside classes. We make ourselves available to welcome friends and family. I prep freezer meals and cookie dough and do a deep clean during the Ember Days. That leaves me free of lots of household duties during the 12 Days of Christmas.

It doesn't need to be fancy. In fact, it probably shouldn't be fancy.

If you want some ideas for this time, you can check out my 12 lists for the 12 Days of Christmas post.
Haven't heard of these Ember Days I mentioned? Here's a little about them.

Want a breakdown of how to prep during Advent for this truly relaxing (even for mom) 12 Days of Christmas? Check out this post.

Was It Worth Being Open to Life When My Baby Died?

Last week I discussed the worth of walking down the wrong path. In that piece I focused more on saying a full yes to one vocation, only to ultimately learn that it was not meant for me. That time spent discerning was a gift instead of a waste.

It's relatively easy to accept that taking a risk on discernment will pay off somehow. But what about when the "wrong road" involves losing a child? What if it means losing multiple children? Was it still worth it?

I've shared a bit about our story from this summer. A very complicated miscarriage in June that didn't end until July when we also had to do surgery to remove a cystic tumor on my ovary (unrelated to miscarriage, I'm just lucky like that.) A subsequent miscarriage in September.

I don't think it truly was a "wrong road" to have been open to those pregnancies, but it was a wrong road in the sense that it did not lead to a living baby as one would hope. Roads that lead to heartache are roads most people would rather not travel. It's not wrong to feel that.

However, I wasn't anticipating how strongly my losses would result in me being avoided. Like miscarriage is catching. Like I have a bad luck virus. Even among women who have had miscarriages, my story is odd. This particular road is rare, and, perhaps the scariest of all, unavoidable.
My losses are not due to any underlying problem we have been able to identify. All three are more than likely due to bad luck. There is nothing I could have done to prevent them. There is nothing to do to avoid losing future children.

That terrifies people.

We don't like it, but it's true - being open to life will entail being open to death. Whether we accept that reality or not. A road that you thought was bordered by sunshine and daisies can turn into a nightmare in an instant. But it's still a grace to be on that road. It is better to have been open to grace and cooperating with it, than to have prevented the heartache with sameness.

Heartache is a reminder of the power and size of your yes. When your heart breaks over a sudden turn in the road, it lets you know how deeply you meant your yes. Heartache is a beautiful reminder that you were willing to become more. More open, more loving, more a follower of Christ. This is not the "be more" of Pinterest inspirational quotes. This is the being more that is our invitation to accept God can do anything. We can be more his on this hard path.

God did not intend for your baby to die. Our God is not a cruel God. I think it's important to lay that out there.
The idea that this road has included loss, or losses, that furthers God's grace does not mean that you should not grieve. If anything it means grief will be so much more real.

A pothole in this road is the temptation to what I call the Pain Olympics. Comparing our pain to be greater than or less than the pain of others, and using that comparison to justify harmful behavior. This is not a healing strategy. The Pain Olympics only hands out loser awards. Even if you "win" it just means you are still hurting. We can do that without belittling the pain of others.

What I don't want to become is bitter on this road. Which does not mean I accept that the people who have reacted hurtfully in this process haven't hurt me. It's right to be hurt by hurtful things. It just means that instead of pretending these awful months didn't happen, I can use this experience to push for change. To allow the next woman walking her sudden wrong road to have someone next to her. To do the little things I can do. Cooperating with God's grace does not have to die with my babies. It can be the ultimate sign of their life.

Was this road worth it? 100% yes. Does it hurt? 100% yes.

Yes is a super power if we allow it to be.

What have been some of your unexpected "wrong roads"? How have you cooperated with Grace?

The Worth of Walking Down the Wrong Road

"I don't want it to have been a waste of time."
"I'm not sure if it will pay off."
"How can I be positive God is calling me?"

These are probably the top three responses I hear in discussions about discernment. They are the same responses when the discussion is about discerning a primary vocation, deciding to start a new venture, or listening for another kind of calling.
The underlying fear is the same: no one wants to start down the wrong road.

But what makes something "the wrong road" when you are choosing between good things?
I think most of us assume that any path that does not end in our eventual calling was a wrong road.
What if God might be calling you to walk one path for a while, but not arrive at your anticipated destination? What if it's not about finding out God's big picture plan, but more of a practice in letting him walk with you on every path?

This changes things. Now it's less about being sure and confident of God's will, and more being willing to come along on the adventure.

There have been two big roads in my life that could have been considered a wrong road, but have been incredibly important in shaping me, my faith life, and my vocation: my time spent discerning a religious vocation, and my miscarriages.

I'll cover the miscarriages in part 2, but I wanted to talk about discerning the religious life in particular today.

I wrote some thoughts on vocations as a wannabe nun called to marriage a while back. A question I got a lot from sharing that story was: Do you regret spending all that time discerning when the answer was no?
No, I think it was still worth doing, and I encourage everyone to discern this particular path if at all possible. I didn't get too far along in the process of actually entering an order, but I have friends who became postulates, took temporary vows, and spent years pursuing the religious life vocation only to discern out. Did they take a "wrong road"?

Religious discernment is not just a single person talking God's ear off until they get a yes or no answer. It involves a deep awareness of self, an honest evaluation of strengths and weaknesses, and relationships with a whole host of people. I think everyone can agree all of those things are well worth doing in order to grow into a mature adult faith. Doing so in a religious community brings with it a fundamentally changed relationship between the discerning person and Jesus and his Church.

When a woman discerns a religious vocation, she is discerning marriage with Jesus. That is, at a basic level, what is happening.
Want to start seeing God as a person and not just a far off in the sky being? Try dating him.
To discern out means reaching a point where Jesus lets you know that you are not meant to become a Bride of Christ. It's awful and wonderful.

Those of us who discerned out will forever have a relationship with Jesus that has a different kind of intimacy. I have personally found a connection with others who discerned the religious life. There is a grace that comes from the act of putting the question to God "Is this what you want of me?"

Regrets don't come from the good you were open to pursuing, they come from failing to ask the question out of fear of the what ifs.

Check back next week for Part 2 and what this all means when applied to being open to life and losing your baby. Especially multiple times.

A Grief Continued - Back to Back Miscarriages and Taking Space

It happened again. For the third time we have lost another pregnancy.

This makes two just this summer.

When I had our first miscarriage in between our second and third born children, I believed the whole song and dance of how this is common but it probably won't happen again. I am very good at winning all the wrong lotteries, so leave it to me to beat the odds here.

Grief is a long process, but it is nearly impossible to heal when the traumas keep coming. Factors are different with these two losses that pose their own challenges for healing. A key difference between our first loss and these last two is we are now part of an extremely fertile parish. It's babies and pregnant women everywhere and all the time - including many who share(d) my due window.

When we had our house fire in the early Spring, no one would have put me in a position of having to talk about fires and house renovations at every gathering. Certainly no one would have decided other fire victims would be best to facilitate our healing. Because that's tacky, insensitive, and, to a great extent, illogical.
But that's what we do around pregnancy loss.

When you are living a nightmare, it's extremely hard to relate.
Right now, I don't want to hear your complaints about your perfectly healthy pregnancy when my babies are dead.
I'm not ready to push through my grief for the sake of your joy.
I don't want to see the growing bellies of all the women who would have been pregnant with me. There are zero ways for that to not make me flashback to the losses.

If this is sounding like trauma and raw wounds - it's because it is. This entire summer I have been a living breathing war zone and burial ground.
I wish wearing morning dress was still a thing. At least then I would have a way to externally signal to the world that I'm not ok, handle with care. Instead I look like a mom with three young kids who can totally handle one more thing.

To a great extent, I am bearing it well. I'm getting up every morning. I show up when scheduled. I smile. I joke. I talk about other things. I teach my kids. I handle new projects. I go where I am needed.
But I'm not ok.

"Just because you carry it all so well, doesn't mean it's not heavy."

This is heavy. This has been going on since June 1st, y'all. Yet I, and many of the other people around you silently suffering losses, feel intense pressure to be fine. To be normal. To be recovered.

I don't know about everyone, but I don't recover well without space. Space is something I haven't had much of over the past four months.

This past week, my husband and I took a couples getaway to the North Shore on Lake Superior. This trip had been planned since July, when it became apparent that we needed something to look forward to in this summer of grief. I had no idea it would end up being the week after yet another loss.

It was three days of extremely limited internet and phone access. Spending nearly all day outside. Having time and space with just our marriage.

I came home feeling much more connected with my husband, but so much more averse to pretending with everyone else. Instead of feeling like I could take on reconnecting to the level I was pre-back to back losses, I feel the need to reclaim space.
Grief makes you feel small and insignificant. It makes you recoil and shy away from being "too" anything. It leads you to act like your person is less than everyone else. Not in a virtuous humble way, in a way that doesn't acknowledge your own dignity.

So for at least the next 4 months, the rough amount of time I have spent miscarrying just this year, I am going to reclaim my space. It's time to acknowledge that while my pregnant friends do not mean to make things hard for me, it is hard to be around right now. They didn't ask for that anymore than I asked to be a multiple loss mom, but here we are regardless. I have come to realize it's more spiritually expensive to pretend fine and let resentment build up. Sometimes taking a pause is the option of minimal harm.

Here are the 7 things I wish people knew in this time of prolonged loss and grief.

1. Communication is key. It's a lot of mental and emotional bandwidth to do all the communication from my end. It's incredibly helpful when people reach out and check in, or check their perceptions, without me having to initiate everything myself.

2. Silence isn't a rebuff, it might be a pause. I'm still homeschooling and juggling all kinds of things on my end. I often don't get the time or energy to respond to communications until a break in the day or the week. Be patient with me.

3. See the whole person. I love going to young adult events right now. Not just because they tend to be attended by people unlikely to spring a surprise pregnancy announcement. With young adults, I get asked about myself as a person. Not solely as a mom. It's a blessed break to talk about history, current events, hobbies, or all the many things that are a part of me.

4. I'm still postpartum. There is, rightfully, a huge amount of grace extended to women in the months after giving birth. My body has gone through massive hormonal shifts, surgery, stress, and a whole pile of struggles just like any other postpartum mom. But because I don't have a cute baby to show for it, it is very easy to forget I'm still a person going through a postpartum recovery.

5. Having first trimester losses carries it's own kind of trauma. I have no grave to visit. There are no sonogram pictures of my living babies. The lack of closure there is something that doesn't go away.

6. Grief and loss impacts every part of my life right now. I don't have the reserves to deal with people reacting badly. I have barely written because I can't deal with the trolls and people just having a bad day at me.

7. This isn't forever, but it is my now. I couldn't tell you when it won't physically hurt to be around pregnant women. I wish I knew too.

_________________________

Linking up with This Ain't the Lyceum for 7QT.  

That Time I Really Looked into Catholic Unschooling - Homeschool Plan 2019-2020

This summer was hard on our family. Between the longest miscarriage ever, surprise ovarian surgery, solo parenting stints, and recovering from the house fire last spring - it felt like life just kept coming back for more blood. Getting ready to start our school year, and the first homeschooling year with two kids in for-realsies grades, I felt overwhelmed, burned out, and done. And I hadn't even started yet.

It was clear that something needed to change. I responded to that need in proper nerd fashion: looking into all the options - be they weird, fringe, or otherwise out of my norm. Catholic unschooling came across my rader, and for the first time I actually considered it's merits.

To be clear, we are not actually going all in on unschooling. We are still using the structure and curriculum choices through Mother of Divine Grace. However, it made since to re-assess how we went about implementing MODG using some of the things that can be learned from unschooling families.

Some ideas I came across I was not ok with accepting, but there were others that resonated with me.

Skill subjects vs. content subjects

While I knew the distinction of skill subjects and content subjects from my own experience as a homeschooled kid, I realized I wasn't acting the distinction that well in my practice of homeschooling my own children.

Some subjects work well most of the time with consistent daily practice that follows a logical sequence - these are the skill subjects. Math is an obvious one, but others like grammar, spelling, music theory, art, languages have at least parts of their study that are skill based.

Other subjects are about acquiring content knowledge. At least the early grades of science, history, some literature, art, geography are all content subjects. These are subjects that are perhaps best done with what I call guided exploration. Our studies for science, history, some geography, and lots of arts and literature, are being approached with less structured school time. Instead we grow and explore together a wide variety of topics in those subjects based one what the kids, or I, are interested in learning. That means lots of documentaries, field trips, experiments, library trips, and learning alongside my children.

When We School

In order to implement that unschooling exploratory style, an essential ingredient is needed - time. There has to be time for ideas to grow and percolate. Time for field trips. Time for talking and being with each other so that I, as their teacher and parent, can understand where their interest might be leading and how I can best facilitate their growth.

Which means we have shifted almost all of our book time to be after lunch, leaving the mornings open. This is the most likely time we have for getting out of the house, and finding the energy that exploratory learning involves. Since my oldest is just 2nd grade, this isn't too terribly difficult to do. Even when you consider additional reading practice, his work Monday through Thursday takes about two hours, max.

Shifting to afternoon lessons is important for another aspect of family functioning:

What to do with the active toddler

When we schooled mostly in the morning, the toddler was her worst self. She wasn't getting to play with her siblings as much, she was only happy drawing or doing other activities for about 20 minutes, and school was taking longer for the big kids due to the incessant interruptions.

So now we are mostly doing book work during her nap time.
The mornings with exploratory learning are much easier to include her in our learning. She gets lots of active time and loving on by everyone. That time of learning alongside each other, and investment into our family culture first, makes a huge different in everyone's attitude.

Book work goes much faster when I'm not cajoling anyone to "just get it done". Everyone from the quality time loving kids to my very touchy kids have had their love tanks filled.

But what about the book list?

This unschooling/homeschooling mashup is doable right now in large part because we were starting from a curriculum that emphasizes the parent/child connection and flexibility between kids. When you are starting from a place of guiding the child through the good, true, and beautiful, it is simple to take advantage of the multiple roads available for that journey.

We still use the reading list as our starting point, but end up reading far beyond it.
I still find the choices for math curriculum, handwriting, and other skill subjects to work for us.
But I needed to break up my mental idea that I was married to those choices.

So far I have had kids that have widely different places of struggle and ease when it comes to their learning. Embracing that sometimes what you need is fine tuning, instead of a wholesale do over, has been very freeing this year.

Are you changing things up this year? What have you done to make your days better when circumstances change?

So Why Don't You Have a Library Card?

I have been shocked to learn how many adults in my community don't have a library card. There is this odd assumption that libraries are great when you're a kid, but there's not much to offer to the busy adult.

Besides the fact that I think reading is an absolutely necessary part of exercising our gift of mind, libraries have grown well beyond the place that holds some books.

Here is just a sampling of the unconventional ways my own library system benefits adults.

1 Databases galore

JSTOR is back in my life, y'all! Many libraries subscribe to databases and online resources that are a hidden gold mine. Our library system includes databases of professional dance performances, the National Geographic library back to 1888, and Theater in Video.

2 Museum and performance passes

Free or heavily discounted passes to museums and performances are becoming a more common library offering. We've been to the California Academy of Sciences, Lawrence Hall of Science, and Oakland Museum of California for free when we lived in the Bay Area. Our library in Minnesota includes passes to local theaters, symphony, nature sites, and museums. These are often for 2 people so you can bring a friend!

3 Scripts and scores

Sorting for Printed Music gives me over 50,000 music scores in my immediate county library system alone. They're not just musicals and classical pieces - Pink Floyd, Coldplay, Mumford & Sons, and Fleetwood Mac are in there too. Practicing your instrument (or learning one) just got a lot more appealing.
Scripts are a common find too. They include play scripts, screen plays, and radio plays. No need to wait for your local theaters to finally put on a play you've been wanting to see! Yes, it's not the same as a staged version, but reading plays is another wonderful way to tap into the legacy of storytelling.

4 Craft classes

I can learn a lot from YouTube, but Youtube can't look at my work, troubleshoot it, and give me the materials - all for free. In the past year I've learned needle felting and crochet via free library craft classes. Jewelry making, ribbon embroidery, and weaving in the round are other classes I've seen.
Many libraries offer knitting clubs, crafternoon (yes that's a real thing), and other gatherings where you can work and learn from others.

5 Audio books

When I'm in heavy audition seasons and driving alllll the time, free audio books from the library are my jam. My library uses the Libby app. From there I can browse, check out, and return all from my phone. If I happen to hate the voice of the reader, or am just not into the book, I don't feel bad for returning it early. It was free!

6 Historic Documents and records

History resources at the library are not just for genealogists anymore (though there are still a lot of offerings for family history research.) I was able to download a high resolution map showing my house from 1874 directly from the library website. Historic photography collections are available there. Many local historic societies are digitizing their collections, and making them available to the library.
My favorite odd history find is the collection of historic menus. Hundreds of menus from local restaurants dating from 1880s to the 1970s. In theory I could re-create the Christmas menu of the Curtis Hotel from 1933. Knowledge is power.

7 Book club kits

Maybe you want to try out a book club, but don't know what to pick, write questions, or commit to everyone buying a book. The library has your back! Many offer book club kits. These are a set of 8-10 copies of a single title that check out for 6 weeks. Most come with questions and other resources for your group. Having a neighborhood book club has never been easier.


Resources that I have seen in other libraries include: puzzle exchange, author talks, and 3D printer access. Libraries have grown well beyond book browsing and toddler storytime.

What's something cool that your library offers? Do you have a library card yet? Why or why not?

**************

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Missing Out?

It's summer, for now.

It's marching on to back to school time.

It feels a little like the world is sailing by, and maybe, just maybe, you feel like you missed out.

This feeling probably comes up a lot. Sometimes in little ways - sneaking in via your friend's vacation photos or sitting silently in a discussion of the latest TV show/movie/book you haven't seen or read.
Sometimes it's in big ways. The pregnancy announcements that pop up after yet another negative test. The supportive/non-destructive in-laws your friends have that just aren't in the cards for you.

Well meaning friends and family try to tell you that "your time will come" or "it will happen for you."
Let's be honest here, it might not.

That life ideal that you are hoping and dreaming and working toward? It might not happen. At least not in the way you initially pictured.

It's a fine line between accepting the reality that your dream might not happen and wallowing in it. It's so easy to think "why bother?" if your goal might be unattainable.

I'm completely guilty of this too. Back in May I was thinking I would be wrapping up my show toward the end of June. Then it would be an open summer of family fun, weekend adventures, and time to catch up with all the friends I haven't seen over the past many months of theater work. I would be showing more in my pregnancy by then, so theater auditions for the late summer and fall were off the table.

Then I started bleeding on June 1st. Suddenly all those plans I made around the assumption there would be prenatal appointments, a 20 week scan, and a kicking baby, died.

Then six weeks later it still wasn't over. Last week I had to have a D&C anyway (which makes my miscarriage longer than the time I was pregnant by more than two weeks, y'all.)
They found a badly behaved ovarian cystic tumor too. Thankfully benign.
But that surgery means I will have officially been miscarrying and recovering the entire summer. I'm not allowed to go in lakes or pools. I can't train at the level I need to in order to get back out on the audition circuit.

It is so stinking easy to wallow. To hate what my life is this summer. To be frustrated with God. To desire desperately to know why.
But none of that will change my fantastically unlucky roll of the biological dice.

So instead I'm trying to do what I can.
I can't train my body, but I can train my mind. The library is my favorite online shopping.
I can't swim or do any summer water sports, but I can visit the lake and enjoy it anyway.
I'm not traveling anywhere, but I can make myself a fun new cocktail and have a little porch vacation after kids are in bed.

I don't have much agency over my body right now, but I can do many other things. There are still things to learn, people to meet, dreams to have, and hopes to nurture.

Find what you can do out of where you are right now. Your friends aren't having a great summer at you, but they might not know how to be with you. Grow your base of interests and reach out from there.
Don't hate unfollow because the comparison struggle runs deep. See if there is a gem of an idea you can use from that person.
Live your life on the margins of what you think is possible. No one gets stronger from playing it safe and familiar.

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How to Self-Help Without the Self-Loathing

We've all heard it. The how-I-became-a-better-person story in every self-help genre book. It normally starts with a tale of woe about how awful they were, how not enough, how behind, and how horrible the world was for them.
Maybe it's true, maybe some people have to hit their own rock bottom before making a change. But every time I read these stories I wonder how much more encouraging they would be if the self-loathing wasn't such an integral starting point?

Like what would happen if women (because let's be real, that's the typical target audience of these stories) could hear story after story of people making a change in their life out of a place of acceptance?
What if instead of fad dieting, in its many forms, we ate food for nourishment and in connection with other people?
Couldn't there be balance in our activities?
Making a change out of a desire to grow, instead of a desire to run away from our now-selves?

I think what's missing from most of the writing of self-help authors is a knowledge of the goodness and inherent dignity of each person. They're missing God.
Which isn't to say they don't respect the people they are writing for - clearly they think we are capable of becoming more than what we are. They just miss the point where without an understanding of the humanity end game, it's very hard to travel to that destination.

Most self help books fail to answer why we should want become what the author is proposing. Yes, sometimes it's wrapped up in studies showing why we should make this change, but those are often less convincing when investigated. Too often the author is arguing we should remake ourselves in their own image.

I have a favorite quote from St. Anthony of Padua on the subject - yes the guy you pray to to help you find lost stuff.  Many don't know that St. Anthony was a prolific writer, and we still have many of his homilies and talks. He has a beautiful perspective on how to approach becoming our best selves:

"Do you want to have God always in your mind? Be just as he made you to be. Do not go seeking another ‘you’. Do not make yourself otherwise than he made you. Then you will always have God in mind."

Oh how wonderfully freeing! 

What St. Anthony gets, and most self-help books don't, is in order to become our truest selves we must have a complete understanding of reality. An understanding of truth that leads us to see ourselves completely and fully as who we are. We have to seek ourselves to seek God, and seek God as we seek ourselves.

That means we can't buy someone else's prepackaged wellness religion. We can't shut off whole parts of ourselves. It often means leading a very different life from our friends and loved ones.

But we get something so much better.

We get to love others without the comparison, envy, and eventually hatred that comes from loathing ourselves. 

We get to take perfection out of its oppressive, perverted, usage and reclaim it for it's truth - that seeking perfection is seeking God who is perfect. 

We can take all of the anxiety and worry and pressures we have heaped on our shoulders, and notice that it's never been our burden. That was never meant to be there.

We are meant for love, we are meant for God, and we are meant to be who were created to be.

Thankfully, God is patient. He lets it be a process. I have all the leeway in the world to get frustrated, angry, and just done with trying. He lets me be sorry. He lets me stand up and try again. He's infinitely patient, infinitely good.

Seeking his path and truth is the image I want to discover in myself. It does take work. It does take effort. It sometimes looks like getting my butt to the gym and eating well. It does mean making time to read and continuing to nurture my mind. But that only stays helpful if I am seeking the me God sees. Because I am already who he loves - this isn't about making myself good enough for God. It's about learning to see myself in God's truth.

That's real self-help.

***************

You might also be interested in:

How I Do Grief + Blogging Thoughts

1

I have a particular need to do something meaningful, or tackle a project that has been forgotten, when I'm grieving a loss. Really any loss, but especially a death.

It's why my house looks oddly clean for someone morning her child.

And why you are likely to find the entire contents of a closet or drawer on the kitchen table while I re-organize spaces that have bugged me for months.

When things are happening that are not in my control, it helps to make my surroundings just a little better.

2

If not apparent from the above, I'm awful at resting.

I'm a slow physical healer and I know the need to rest is a thing for promoting better healing. But I hate it. I hate feeling like my body can't let me live my life.

So I bribe myself....

3

With books!

But not fiction. For some reason I have a decided distaste for most fiction, and it gets bad in grief times. When there is so much to process, and so many things I can never know or understand, I love me some thick history books. 

History is knowable, verifiable, and enlightening for the present. Understanding a little more about something beyond my own grief is what lets me be ok laying in bed when I'm supposed to do so.

4

Tea is amazing.

I still love my coffee, but for some reason Earl Grey tea has been my jam during this time. Hot drinks, even in summer, remains an important tool for reminding myself to pause.

5

Then there's writing.

I do keep a bullet journal and do some writing processing that way, but this time around I haven't been as inclined to write about it on the blog. I know the words might come eventually, but I'm deciding it's also ok to not share everything with the internet (as lovely as y'all are.)

6

Speaking of the blog, Kelly at This Ain't the Lyceum wrote about blogging as a side hustle vs. leisure as her 7 Quick Takes today. If you can't tell by the fact that I'm still a proud blogspot.com URL user in 2019, this is not a side hustle blog. 

Growing the blog was never about getting well known, getting my writing out there, making money, or launching a career (which is good because I'd say most of that has not happened.) I've always written this blog hoping to reach just one person who needed to hear it. Just to let one person know they were not the only person on this Earth who shares their struggle, concern, or perspective. Just let one person not feel so alone.

"Grow enough to reach the one" is basically what I do around here.

7

I did have a goal to participate in community better, perhaps via the blog, back when this all started in 2015. Sometimes I forget how successful the internet has been in that regard.

Going through another miscarriage has brought that reminder.

Far away internet friends have sent cards and restaurant gift cards. I've relied on books written by fellow bloggers to help me through this. Priest friends read the update and offered prayers and liturgies for our baby.

Over the years there have been conference meet ups, skill shares, Facebook groups, and messaging friends I only know from the internet when I happen to be traveling through their town to ask them to get coffee. It can sometimes be weird to be so invested in people I've never met in person, but thank you to all the people who have said yes to hanging out with me. 

Thanks to the mighty few who have been readers since the beginning. 

The ones who keep coming back even when I float away from speaking to your specific season of life. Thanks for riding on this journey with me.

**********

New this week:

Why you should care about true stories (and why they're awesome) plus a little life updates and check in on the Cool Historic Catholics of America series.

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In honor of St. Anthony of Padua today - one of my favorite quotes from him: “Do you want to have God always in your mind? Be just as he made you to be. Do not go seeking another “you”. Do not make yourself otherwise than he made you. Then you will always have God in mind.”

A post shared by Kirby Hoberg (@underthyroof) on Jun 13, 2019 at 9:57am PDT

The Power of the True Story

Have you ever considered how many stories were instrumental in shaping your family, neighborhood, environment, and your personal experience? How many of those stories left their mark but were not told to you?

The families that have lived in your home before you.
The parishioners who built your church.
The long gone loved ones who changed the people who raised you.

In the true story, the lived story, there are true surprises. Little details can really surprise the main characters.
I'm an awful theater person when watching a play or movie. I'm always on the look out for the whys. In a scene that has been edited, work shopped, rehearsed, and choreographed - nothing happens without a reason. It's nearly always possible for me to get a scene or two ahead in the story just by paying attention to the little details.

But in real life those little details have unforeseeable and lasting consequences. They can't always be anticipated even by the most observant person.

Those little, personal, details manage to speak to seemingly unrelated stories. The story of the mom going through chemotherapy while homeschooling her kids can speak deeply to the story of the mom experiencing Hyperemesis Gravidarum with young children at home. Yes, their experiences are not identical, but both are going through a time of intense life change that is largely outside of their ability to control. There are multiple subjects within their stories that ARE shared: coping strategies, emotional and physical care coordination, keeping kids busy when you have intense needs.

The true story remains true, even when the specifics diverge. That means the story of a person who looks radically different from me can still speak to my life and struggles.

How cool is that?!

Once you start to gain an appreciation for the true story, it becomes a lot harder to shut people out. Because all of those people can now potentially speak to your story, despite what appears to be polar opposite situations. No longer can you compare the checklist of external identifiers to determine if this person has anything to share that will speak to your life. It makes telling these true stories, discovering the personal side of history and society, an extremely powerful tool for building empathy and entering into communion with each other.

Telling a story is not just about the subject of the story - it also tells a lot about the storyteller. I am not going to tell a story in exactly the same way as you might. Different aspects will speak strongly to me that might not have even been noticeable to you. The aspects of a story that I choose to highlight say a lot about what I see as important and how I view the subject of the story. When I write about a priest who was murdered by the KKK or a woman who became a modern day anchoress, I'm not trying to write the most accurate story possible (even though everything is accurate to the best of my knowledge), I am writing to convey something I find important within this person's life story.

The historical is personal, for history is made up of the story of persons. It lets us practice seeing the trials and surprises of life in a bigger context. In the context of the human story.

***************

Some updates.

I have LOVED writing the Cool Historic Catholics of America series. But I don't know if y'all have noticed, but it's going to take a looooooong time to release all 51 stories via blog posts. Even with doing 3-4 at a time. Like over a year long.

Before starting to write this series, I did identify someone for each of the 50 states plus Washington DC. If your state hasn't come up yet, I DO have someone for you.

I want to finish telling you some of the stories of Catholics and the Catholic story in the US, but I am going to pause and rethink how best to do that. Stay tuned!

***

If you follow me on Facebook or especially Instagram you have probably heard that we recently lost our baby (and that pregnancy announcement was the last thing I published on this blog). Recovery is very long and slow, and it's going to be a little touch and go for a bit here. I am still active and writing when I am up to it. If you're interested in updates, most of those will probably be on Instagram and sometimes Facebook.

Thank you to everyone who has reached out, prayed, showed up. Just all of it. Thank you.

Yes, This is an Announcement

We interrupt your regularly scheduled history programming (which I would love to hear your thoughts about the three installments so far) to bring you this special announcement:

We're Expecting!!!

Baby #4 is due a little after Christmas. Which in my case will probably mean January.

This baby is a lot of firsts for us.
The first baby to be born in Amelia Hill House.
The first winter baby (like send all the tips for surviving a postpartum in the middle of a Minnesota winter!)
The first baby where I get to have the same care provider as a prior birth.
The first baby who will be born in the middle of our homeschool year.

I love that even this many kids in, the firsts keep rolling and it's still exciting.

Kids reactions were as follows:

John and Therese - fist pumps, whoops, hollers, bets on gender (guess which one John wants so bad!)
Felicity - "No....no baby...................tummy?"

So she's getting there.

I'm feeling pretty good. The early pregnancy fatigue means these late night rehearsals are kicking my butt. And it's not even Tech weeks yet! (For non-theater speaking people: Tech is when you add in all the costumes, lights, and sound, and make your actors stay very late very frequently. It's the period where everyone starts to hate each other just a little bit. It's the necessary time before the show opens and suddenly we all LOVE this cast and NEVER want it to end! It's a thing.)

This baby and Felicity will be just slightly further apart than John and Therese. I liked that spacing so hopefully it works well again.

It's going to be quite the Christmas season this year!

Delaware to Georgia - Cool Historic Catholics of America

From left to right: the cemetery at Coffee Run, Delaware (site of the Fr. Kenny house), prayer card for the cause of Antonio Cuipa - martyr of La Florida, and Fr. Ignatius Lissner, S.M.A.

All of the following examples of Cool Historic Catholics lived in times of transition. We're going to touch on a little of what life was like for a Catholic living in the British colonies and the early United States, our ancestors who were martyred for their faith in La Florida, and another part of the story of combating racial injustice during the early part of the 20th century.

Delaware - Fr. Patrick Kenny

We're going back to Colonial America!
Your experience as a Catholic living in the American Colonies was highly dependent on in which colony you lived. In only four of the original colonies were Catholics not suppressed, banned, or under civil disabilities by 1785: Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, and Delaware. Anti-Catholic sentiment, and restricting laws, didn't loosen in most colonies until the Revolutionary War made the new Americans rather dependent on the Catholic French. (Funny how easy it is to hate a group until you need them.)

Surprisingly, despite this history of being somewhat of a haven for non-Protestants, Delaware had very few people to appear in my search! So we're going to talk about an early priest who is notable not so much by what he did, but by the records he left behind.

In the Records of the American Catholic Historical Society of Philadelphia from 1896, there is found a biography, and excerpts from the diary, of Fr. Patrick Kenny.

Fr. Patrick Kenny was born in Ireland in 1763, and arrived at the port of Wilmington, Delaware in the summer of 1804. The heat of American summer was overwhelming, and the priest immediately tried to secure passage back home on the same ship. But a full passenger list thwarted his plans. So he began life as an itinerant priest.

Itinerant priests were very common in the early days of the US. Catholic communities were often sparse and spread far apart from each other. Most were poor farmers and could not afford to support a priest alone. Priests came exclusively from overseas, as the first Catholic seminary in the US was not founded until 1822 - leaving the total number of priests in the dozens to serve thousands spread throughout the land. These priests lived by going from community to community. Most stayed for a time with various Catholic families, and communities paid a small subscription to the priest to come and say mass and perform sacraments for their community. Masses at this time were often performed in homes.

Fr. Kenny regularly attended five stations, and one church, spread between two states (Delaware and Pennsylvania). After a few years of living this essentially homeless life, Fr. Kenny bought a farm, located at Coffee Run, in 1808 from the Jesuits. The order had been under papal suppression since 1773, and were unable to staff their US mission areas (which is a much longer story for another time!) Fr. Kenny decided that the old Jesuit mission could be used as a future center to serve the Catholics of Delaware.

It was at Coffee Run that the first Catholic church was established in Delaware. It was a log mission church built in 1790. The cemetery was established then, and it is all that remains of the original site today due to arson.

His diary gives a real, rough, picture of what life was like for those early priests. They were constantly moving, working in rough conditions, and managing many different communities. Small as the American Catholic community was, they managed to have their fair share of controversies and struggles. Itinerant priests could find themselves stuck in the middle of a fight that both exasperated them and they felt responsibility for settling.  Sickness was frequent, food often short, and the weather hard.

Fr. Kenny died in 1840 at the age of 79 following a stroke, and was buried at Coffee Run - next to the church he had pastored for nearly 40 years.

Florida - Martyrs of La Florida

We tend to think of the American story as starting in 1607 with Jamestown, Virginia, but the American Catholic story in Florida begins much earlier.
A Spanish mission in St. Augustine, Florida was founded in 1565, but the Dominican order attempted to start a mission near Tampa Bay in 1549.

In total there are 54 martyrdom events of La Florida under investigation. Some are for one martyr, others are for multiple martyrs. The specific events under Vatican investigation start with the Dominicans in 1549 and end with the martyrdom of three Apalachee natives killed protecting the Eucharist in 1761.

Although there were diocesan priests serving in La Florida at the time, all of the Proto-martyrs (between 1549 and 1597) were members of three Catholic orders: Dominican, Jesuit, or Franciscan. 1647 marks the date that native Christians began to be martyred, starting in Apalachee.

1697 to 1707 were particularly bloody. Many massacres, brutal attacks, and destruction of many missions. This period includes the lead martyr for the causes of the Martyrs of La Florida - Antonio Cuipa. He was an Apalachee layman particularly devoted to St. Joseph who would die tied to a cross in an English led raid in 1704.

Reasons for attacks on missions and Christians varied. Sometimes it was neighboring tribes who objected to the new religion for a variety of reasons, but many were due to slave raids. Growing English presence in the north led to a growing demand for slave labor. Tribes raiding each other for slaves to sell were frequent.

When the Catholic Church investigates martyrdom events, she requires all documents to be sealed during the investigation. I'm looking forward to learning more from the historical sources when they become available as this case moves forward. I encourage you to see the website for the martyrdom cause as they go into as much detail as is available for each of the 54 martyrdom events.

Georgia - Fr. Ignatius Lissner, S.M.A.

This is the story of a French born Catholic priest who would be a game changer for black Catholics in the US.

Ignatius was born in the Alsace region of France in 1867. His father was the descendant of Polish Jews, and he had converted to Catholicism. Out of the nine children in Ignatius' family, five would grow up to enter Church service. Ignatius was drawn to the priesthood early. He entered minor seminary and would continue his theology studies at the major seminary in Leon. He was ordained in 1891 at the age of 24.

Fr. Lissner was ordained a member of the Society of African Missions - a missionary society dedicated to serving the people of Africa and people of African descent throughout the world. His first assignment was in Whydah in the Kingdom of Dahomey (now Benin). Much of the documentation from this period has been lost. We know he stayed in Whydah about five years, he began traveling through the US and Canada raising funds for the Society in 1897, and was assigned to Egypt in 1899. In 1901, he would be sent back to the United States.

At this time the United States was classified as a mission territory by the Catholic Church (it would remain so until 1908.) There was slowly growing infrastructure to support the immigrant Catholic population, but Fr. Lissner quickly noticed the lack of care for African-American Catholics. The Holy See decided to take action by instructing the Bishop of Savannah-Atlanta to use the Society of African Missions to provide the needed pastoral care. The bishop called up Fr. Lissner.

In 1915 a bill came before the Georgia legislature that would have made the education of black children by white teachers illegal. The Catholic schools in Savannah at the time were served by Franciscan sisters - who were all white. To avoid closing the schools, Fr. Lissner proposed a new religious congregation of black sisters to the Bishop. This would become Handmaids of the Most Pure Heart of Mary. Under the leadership of Elizabeth Barbara Williams, who took the name Mother Theodore, the order was open to Catholic women regardless of race. However the bill that inspired their founding did not pass, and after struggling to survive in Georgia, the sisters relocated to New York where they found a home in Harlem.

At this time there was no seminary in the United States that would accept a black candidate. Fr. Lissner saw establishing a black clergy as part of his mission. With funds from St. Mother Katherine Drexel, S.B.S., a property was purchased in New Jersey, and St. Anthony's Mission was established in 1921. Fr. Lissner recruited six black candidates, all of whom graduated and were ordained. However, they experienced so much prejudice and hate in their congregations - all of them ended up serving outside of the United States. Those same forces led to the seminary's closure in 1927.

 As the Society expanded to the West Coast, it became apparent the work serving the blacks of America could not be staffed by Europeans alone. Fr. Lissner began working on establishing a fully functioning region of the Society of African Mission in the US. A novitiate and seminary were constructed in New Jersey in 1938, and the Society in the United States was moved to the status of a full province in 1941. Fr. Lissner was the first provincial superior.
World War II caused recruitment to be nearly impossible due to the draft, and travel restrictions made the work of a missionary society difficult even within the US. Fr. Lissner saw the Society through the challenges of WWII, including the burning down of the seminary in 1943.

Fr. Lissner retired as provincial superior in 1946 due to age and illness. He died in Teaneck, New Jersey on August 7, 1948.

Make sure to check back on the series announcement post for links to the other installments of the series, and a refresher on the criteria I used to create this list.

California to Connecticut - Cool Historic Catholics of America

Welcome back for more Cool Historic Catholics of America! Today we're adding in California, Colorado, and Connecticut with three amazing women. They are all very different, but they all exemplify how sometimes you might need to get creative to live your vocation.

Mother Antonia, Julia Greeley, and Nazarena of Jesus

California - Mother Antonia

Born to a privileged family in 1926 as Mary Clarke, and raised in Beverly Hills, CA, Mother Antonia had a heart for service from a young age. She participated with her family in a variety of help programs, both international and domestic.

She first married at 18, would eventually be married twice, and raised seven children. She continued to feel a strong call to serve the needy and remained heavily involved in charitable work - while also running her deceased father's business and raising said seven children.

In a documentary made about her life (Faith Inside the Walls) Mother Antonia speaks about a dream she had in 1969. In this dream Jesus appeared to her and offered to take her place. She refused his offer and tells him that she will never leave him. During the 1970s she would choose to devote her life to the Church in part because of this dream.

Within just a few years, she was again divorced, sold her home and possessions, and moved to Tijuana, Mexico to serve the prisoners there full time. She moved into a 10 x 10 cell in the women's wing of La Mesa penitentiary.

As a divorced woman, and being past the age of admittance to most orders, Mother Antonia found herself unable to join most religious orders. So she took private vows, with permission of the bishop, and donned a religious habit.
After a year of serving in this way, her work came to the attention of the bishops of Tijuana and nearby San Diego. The Bishop of Tijuana made her an auxiliary Mercedarian (an order devoted to prisoners) making her a sister at the age of 50.

 After receiving multiple requests to join Mother Antonia and follow in her footsteps, The Eudist Servants Of The Eleventh Hour religious community was founded in 1997 at the urging of diocesan leaders in Tijuana. Accepted by the Bishop of Tijuana in 2003, the order is for older women who feel the call to serve God later in life "a kind of “encore” dedicated to Our Lord."

Mother Antonia is remembered for her ever present smile and love for everyone. She was known to get in the middle of prison riots and diffuse tensions. In a quote to the Washington Post, Mother Antonia said "“Pleasure depends on where you are, who you are with, what you are eating. Happiness is different. Happiness does not depend on where you are. I live in prison. And I have not had a day of depression in 25 years. I have been upset, angry. I have been sad. But never depressed. I have a reason for my being.”

A period of declining health forced her to move out of the prison and into a local home in Tijuana. She died on October 17, 2013 at the age of 86.

Colorado - Julia Greeley - Servant of God

Born into slavery in Missouri sometime in the 1840s, Julia had a very hard early life. She was physically abused, lost an eye during a beating, and became permanently lame. Freed after the Civil War, Julia worked as a housekeeper and nanny. She moved to Denver to follow a job offer by a Mrs. Dickenson. Mrs. Dickenson who would eventually marry William Gilpin - the first territorial governor of Colorado.

Mrs. Dickenson was a devout Catholic and it was through her influence that Julia converted to the Catholic faith. Julia had a faith that would become legendary in Denver. Associated with Sacred Heart parish since it's establishment in 1879, Julia was a daily communicant.

She had a particular devotion to the poor, children, and for firemen (who worked a particularly dangerous job in the 19th century.) She was known to visit every single firehouse in the city of Denver monthly, distributing Sacred Heart leaflets. There was not a single fireman, Catholic or not, in the city of Denver that didn't know Julia. All of this despite not being able to read, write, or even count, herself.

She was constantly visiting the poor and begging for their needs. Her charity knew no bounds. She would often deliver her charitable gifts at night and in secret as she learned that many white families were embarrassed to be seen accepting charity from a black woman. She was frequently seen carrying coal and groceries to needy families, despite being so poor herself she needed assistance from the city charity department for her own fuel and groceries.
She was victimized multiple times by charity fraud, but her obituary remembers that "Julia’s rule seemingly was that it was better to give than to be too careful and deny assistance to someone who needed it."

Her love for children was well known. Julia was always up for taking care of babies, and she was trusted by all in Denver. She was remembered as a loving nanny for her many little charges over the years. The only known photograph of her, taken in 1916, shows Julia cradling a child.

Julia died on June 7, 1918, fittingly on the feast of the Sacred Heart to which she was so devoted. Her funeral attracted huge crowds as people from all over the city came to pay their respects to "the woman with the wide winged spirit."

Connecticut - Nazarena of Jesus

Born Julia Crotta in Glastonbury, Connecticut on October 15, 1907, this is a story of the talented girl next door who was called to a rare vocation.

The seventh child of Italian immigrants, Julia showed a talent for music. She started her studies at the Hartford Conservatory and moved on to study piano and and violin at Yale. She would leave Yale for a small Catholic school, to the dismay of the Yale music school dean, after an event her junior year that changed everything.

Julia is not remembered as a particularly devout person as a youngster. When a Dominican nun invited her to a Holy Week retreat in her junior year, her agreement to go was reluctant. It was an event in the chapel as she prayed alone in the evening of Good Friday that changed her life. She had a mystical experience in which she felt distinctly that Jesus was calling her into the desert.

She would spend years trying to discover what was this desert.

Julia finished college, and found work as a secretary. With her spiritual director she tried to understand this call to the desert. She tried the Carmelites of Rhode Island but find that found that was not the right fit. Her spiritual director sent her to Rome to wait for God to show his plan for her life. She tried the Camaldolese monastery, but felt restless. The superior advised her to try the Carmelites of Rome, where she would remain for five years - through the harsh trials of World War II.

The day before she would pronounce final vows for the Carmelites - Julia decided to leave the order.

She found work in a soup kitchen, but her spiritual director had an idea that Julia should enter the Camaldolese again - but not as a novice. This time as a "private recluse".

The private recluse, or anchoress, is an ancient custom and traditional to the Camaldolese order. But typically only after a number of years in the order, and even then only with special permission. The vocation is rare, almost unheard of outside of the Middle Ages.

A priest friend of Julia's arranged for her to have a private audience with Pope Pius XII. The Pope looked over the one page document that described Julia's proposed rule for her future life.

“Isn’t it a bit too rigid?” he asked, “I wish it were even more so!” Julia responded. The Pope smiled and said, “If this is the rule by which you wish to live, then take it as it is.”

On November 21, 1945, Julia entered the Camadolese monestery as a recluse - taking the name Nazarena of Jesus. She was restricted to a single cell, never allowed herself an idle moment, and attended mass and received food through a grille. She never spoke a word to anyone, except for once a year when she spoke to her spiritual director. These direction sessions could last for hours - with Nazarena talking all day.
She died in the monastery on February 7, 1990 at the age of 82.

Nazarena of Jesus, nee Julia Crotta, isn't remarkable because of the strictness and rigor of her eventual vocation - although it is that. I find her remarkable because she persisted in pursuing her vocation. Despite many false leads, dead ends, years of waiting, and last minute changes. This was not a girl who always dreamed of becoming a nun. She was called to a medieval vocation as a talented, educated, modern Catholic woman. Yet she still said yes. Even to the improbable.

Make sure to check back to the announcement post and scroll down to see other installment of the series!