Mountain Gardening Take II

   Last year was our first year living up at 9,000 ft.  I love gardening but we didn't have space in our old home.  Last year was a big experiment to see what would flourish up here and what wouldn't do so well.  I have a considerably shorter growing season up here than I did in town.  I think I have about an average of 85 growing days.  I wasn't able to plant till mid June in 2012 because we got a late snow storm just as I was about to plant our little seedlings.  I've already got seedlings going this year but I'm scared to put them out lest we get hit by another June snowstorm.  

   Gardening, especially growing your own fruits and vegetable is so incredible.  Especially if you have kids.  Seeing something grow from a tiny seed, tending to it, weeding around it, feeding it, and harvesting the fruits of your labor is something that can't be duplicated.  Watching a seed germinate is miraculous in and of itself.  Gardening provides so many opportunities to speak to our kids about God.  We are seeds after all aren't we?  If we don't bath ourselves with daily prayer, visits to the Blessed Sacrament, Confession, etc. the weeds of sin will overtake us and choke our souls.  The light of Christ provides the nourishing grace that leads us to him.

   As you can see these little guys are just aching to get put into the ground.  If the weather hold I'll be transplanting them this weekend.  I didn't even realize seed packets had listed the days till maturity listed on them.  I was very careful this time to pick varieties that will mature before the fall frost kills them.  One gourd/squash that I'm experimenting with again is pumpkins.  I got pumpkins last year, but they were the tiniest, saddest little things that you've ever seen.  Growing to the size of a golf ball.  That is one of the difficulties of mountain gardening I've discovered.  Things grow really small up here.  My carrots were like 2 inch long pencils.  

  

 Some other equally infuriating challenges are the wildlife.  My corn was growing really well when some elk decided they needed pruning.  Just like that, my corn was decimated.  I had wanted a fence but my husband couldn't see bothering until he knew stuff would actually grow up here.  We'll see if we can keep them out this year.  Gardening is an art, especially at 9,000 ft.  I'm fine tuning things and I'll be posting my progress and things I learn along the way.  So even if you're in an apartment with only an available window sill, plant something.  Plant some flowers, plant some herbs.  There is something about interacting with the world that God gave that is peaceful.  Giving a sense of wonderment.  As we go about our busy daily lives there is a whole other quiet world of life all around us.  Diving into that world can help us slow down and appreciate the beauty that surrounds us.  

    Watching a quiet little seed come out of it's shell, grow tall, and provide for us is somethings we should all experience. 

Ordinary Days

   As I sat by the lake today, I pondered about how my family's life is build around ordinary days. How those are the kind of days where close knit bonds and family ties are forged.  Sarah, being too young to go gallivanting around the lake in a canoe, sat with me on the docks while my husband and other children paddled around the lake.  There is so much talk of quality time vs quantity time.  I don't like to think of family time in terms of quality or quantity, though both those qualities are needed.  I like to think of time spent together in terms of giving the best we have in us to each other.  
   Does it always work out that way?  Unfortunately, no, but at least we have some kind of goal to aim towards.  It's in those ordinary moment that we deepen our love for each other.  Those moments where we're huddled together on the couch as I read a book aloud.  The times we're all outside playing catch.  Laughing around our fire pit while we toast marshmallows.  Watching the hummingbirds flit back and forth fighting over the feeders hanging on our deck.  It's in those simple everyday moments that we connect in a lasting way.
   Just being together isn't enough.  It's being in communion with each other that matters.  Focused bits of quality time aren't enough if that's all you give.  That give and take, that giving of oneself to the other.  Can you imagine how powerful that is?  I'm not always good at being an example of this.  I rarely fill my cup back up so it can overflow to others.  That is something I need to get better at doing.
   I must never forget that it is in those every day, ordinary moments, that my love is shining the most to the ones I love.  “Do not think that love in order to be genuine has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired. Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.” Mother Teresa

My Gifts

    Oh boy, yesterday was a difficult day.  In fact the last two weeks have seriously pushed me to the edge.  It has been a constant struggle to keep my cool and my sanity with my kids.  Especially my oldest.  He has always been high needs from the day he was born.  Thank goodness God had the mercy to give him to me first.  I actually had energy back then.  O.k. he's only 8 so I guess it wasn't that long ago.  When he hits ten, a decade old, then I'll feel old.  I digress.  He is high needs, has sensory integration disorder, speech and language delays.  He has dyslexia, and has some of the symptoms of ASD, if I were to have him tested he'd probably get PDD-NOS, ADHD diagnosis.
   In short, he is a very sweet, energetic, bright boy who keeps me on my toes.  He is constantly shifting like sands in the desert.  He needs the strongest out of me but the last couple of weeks my tank has been empty.  I'm not even running on fumes right now, there are none left.  I have seriously questioned my homeschooling him.  Not out of a doubt of my ability, but because I was beginning to resent him.  Resenting the constant in your face, loudness, tantrums, fighting, sometimes babyish behavior, and change in the dynamic of the family when he is present.  Can you imagine?  It tears my heart apart to even say those words.  The problem though, is with me and my perspective.  Getting so caught up in my own suffering that I could not see the bigger picture.  That he is an extremely special gift from God.
    I had my weekly Encounter with Christ yesterday.  One of the women on my team brought up the Gospel reading from yesterday.  The boy who was possessed by the Mute and Deaf Spirit.  His father cried out to Jesus, "I do believe, help my unbelief".  That is me!  I am the father!  Everything, joys, sufferings, everything is a gift from God.  Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of His Body, that is, the Church (Col 1:24).  Could it be my suffering with my son is a gift?  I have so often prayed for God to help me be a better mother and wife.  What better way, what better gift could God give me than my son.  He is refining me in a way I could not do on my own.  He is literally burning the impurities from my nature.  He is keeping me humble, honest, and aware of my need for God in my life.  
   Now I know he was not put on this earth for me.  God has a plan bigger than me, and a special purpose for him that I may never see. 
More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us. (Romans 5:3-5) You see I am God's gift to my son as well.  By teaching him, and loving him, and bringing him up in the way he should go, I am helping him on his path to heaven.  Lord knows, he's helping me get there too.  
   All my child are unique and special.  Each of them is a gift from God in more ways than one.  Each one I truly believed hand delivered into my arms for a purpose.  As part of the Domestic Church we are called to refine each other, to lead each other on the path to heaven.  Each of my heavenly children as well were placed in my life for the shortest time for a purpose too.  They refined me in other ways.  Stretching me, growing me, preparing me in ways that no one else could.
   I love my gifts, and just so he was not in doubt I reminded my oldest today just what a special gift he was.  I have a new mantra.  Everything is gift.  Everything.  So when I am suffering I am going to remind myself that everything is gift.  I am going to pray when I feel like screaming and losing my mind.  "Jesus be with me, everything is gift" over and over till I feel the peace of Christ wash over me and bring me back to him and his model of love.   
   Let me leave you with some wise words from JPII.

   In order to perceive the true answer to the "why" of suffering, we must look to the revelation of divine love, the ultimate source of the meaning of everything that exists. Love is also the richest source of the meaning of suffering, which always remains a mystery: We are conscious of the insufficiency and inadequacy of our explanations. Christ causes us to enter into the mystery and to discover the "why" of suffering, as far as we are capable of g.asping the sublimity of divine love. In order to discover the profound meaning of suffering . . . we must above all accept the light of revelation. . . . Love is also the fullest source of the answer to the question of the meaning of suffering. This answer has been given by God to man in the cross of Jesus Christ. (SD 13)
    We could say that suffering . . . is present in order to unleash love in the human person, that unselfish gift of one’s "I" on behalf of other people, especially those who suffer. The world of human suffering unceasingly calls for, so to speak, another world: the world of human love; and in a certain sense man owes to suffering that unselfish love that stirs in his heart and actions. (SD 29)
   

Keep on keepin' on

      I am so proud of myself today as we actually got in a full day of schooling without any drama.  Of course I can't claim all the credit.  One thing that has made all the difference in the world is prayer.  The kids and I have been starting off our mornings in prayer.  It is so precious to hear each of them say who they are offering up their day for when we say a Morning Offering together.  An Our Father, taking turns saying Hail Mary's, a Glory Be, the Pledge of Allegiance, and off we go into our day. 
      What a nice change of pace to actually have a good, relatively peaceful, smooth running day.  Most of our days lately have been marked by chaos, tantrums, and attitude.  I could not figure out why my life was spiraling into total, overwhelming chaos.  A new baby?  Sure, a lovely, kissable, time consuming infant can throw even the most patient well organized mom into a sleep deprived fog.  Homeschooling two kids, activities, commitments, and enjoying a precocious three year old can eat up every free minute of the day.  I just felt like I was juggling so many balls and the kids were feeling it,  Nothing was going right.  What was I doing wrong?
      Prayer, simple prayer.  That is what our day was missing.  Rather, I was trying to muddle through my day on my own.  Without an anchor I was being tossed around.  Every storm that came my way during the day adding together to create a category 5 hurricane by the end of the day.  The difference, inviting God into my day, to lead my day, is incredible.  Oh, there are still the storms, but I'm not tossed around.  I can weather each storm as it comes and let is pass.  There are the days when I forget to lead us all through prayer and I can feel the stresses of the day wash over me, wave after wave.
       So being persistent in prayer is not one of my stronger points, but I keep on trying.  I feel thankful I God has given me the gift of children.  The little souls who have shown me just how much refining I need.

My home is like a monestary

These days time just is a complete blur.  Four kids 8 and under with the youngest being 9 weeks and I don't know where the time is going.  There is seemingly not enough time in the day to squeeze everything in.  I sit and stare at the frighteningly large pile of laundry that is getting bigger by the hour and wish like the elves and the shoe maker, some wonderful little laundry fairy would come during the wee hours of the night and wash, fold, and put away the growing mountains of clothing.  But then I remember a mom with spirited kiddos and a sweet little newborn can only do some much and I try not to be too hard on myself.  This precious time while my kids are young is going faster and faster with each passing day.  It's so easy to feel overwhelmed by all the needs and interruptions of 4 kids, and all the demands of appointments and activities.  Finding time for myself?  You must be crazy.  My wonderful sister sent me an email, its just what I needed to hear.  It put my crazy, chaotic days into perspective. 

Carlo Carretto, one of the leading spiritual writers
of the past half century, lived for more than a dozen
years as a hermit in the Sahara Desert, alone with the
Blessed Sacrament for company, milking a goat for his
food, and translating the Bible into the local Bedouin
language. He prayed for long hours by himself.
Returning to Italy one day to visit his mother, he
came to a startling realization. His mother, who for
more than 30 years of her life had been so busy
raising a family that she scarcely ever had a private
minute for herself, was more contemplative than he
was.

Carretto though was careful to draw the right lesson
from this. What this taught was not that there was
anything wrong with what he had been doing living as a
hermit. The lesson was rather that there was something
wonderfully right about what his mother was doing all
these years as she lived the interrupted life amid the
noise and incessant demands of small children. He had
been in a monastery, but so had she.

What is a monastery? A monastery is not so much a
place set apart for monks and nuns, as it is a place
set apart (period). It is also a place to learn the
value of powerlessness and a place to learn that time
is not ours, but God's.

Our home and our duties can, just like a monastery,
teach us those things. For example, the mother who
stays home with small children experiences a very real
withdrawal from the world. Her existence is definitely
monastic. Her tasks and preoccupations remove her from
the centers of power and social importance. And she
feels it.

Moreover, the demands of young children also provide
her with what St. Bernard, one of the great architects
of monasticism, called the "monastic bell". All
monasteries have a bell. Bernard, in writing his rules
for monasticism told his monks that whenever the
monastic bell rang they were to d rop whatever they
were doing, and go immediately to the particular
activity (prayer, meals, work, study, sleep) to which
the bell was summoning them. He was adamant that they
respond immediately, stating that if they were writing
a letter they were to stop in mid-sentence when the
bell rang. The idea in his mind was that when the bell
called, it called you to the next task and you were to
respond immediately, not because you want to, but
because it's time, it's God's time. For him, the
monastic bell was intended as a discipline to stretch
the heart by always taking you beyond your own agenda
to God's agenda.

Hence, a mother rearing children, perhaps in a more
privileged way even than a professional contemplative
is forced, almost against her will, to constantly
stretch her heart. For years, while rearing children,
her time is never her own, her own needs have to be
kept in second place and every time she turns around a
hand is reaching out and demanding something. She
hears the monastic bell many times during the day and
she has to drop things in mid-sentence and respond,
not because she wants to, but because it's time for
that activity and time isn't her time, but God's time.

The rest of us experience the monastic bell each
morning when our alarm clock rings and we get out of
bed and ready ourselves for the day, not because we
want to, but because it's time. Response to duty can
be monastic prayer, a needy hand can be a monastic
bell, and working without status and power can
constitute a withdrawal into a monastery where God can
meet us. The domestic can be the monastic.

By Fr. Ron Rolheiser, OMI, Seattle, WA