one quick take

I have a baptism, a house blessing, an anniversary, sick kids, out-of-town visitors due, and a very-lived in house.

You can do the math.

I'd tell you I'll be back next week, but I like to keep my readers on their toes with my sporadic posts. Yeah, that's my story.

seven quick takes: in which I forego reclusiveness and had to look up that word to make sure it existed

Uno. Biggest news is that our newest godson was born yesterday, during Austin rush-hour traffic. And we were honored to be able to watch his two older siblings, but because our godson made his plans of debuting known at the veeeeery last minute, his siblings had to go to the hospital with their parents. After some stressful standstills and a few befuddled moments of falling prey to poor city planning and begging the intercession of the sweet babe's patron saints, all was good.

Dos. Yesterday our neighbor called us recluse. I call us hermits, it has a holier sound to it. But seriously, how does one socialize with neighbors? This is so foreign to me since we just moved from a house that had no houses at all within half a street of us. We say hi to them! We small talk when we run into them! What is proper etiquette on this??? Are we supposed to invite them over? Help!

Tres. This! I get to go! Thanks, Hallie, for the heads up on the returned ticket. Get your name on a waitlist, because you might be able to go, too! So, speaking of social etiquette, this will be awkward for the resident introvert manning this blog.

Four (my high school Spanish has worn itself out. How do you spell quatro? Why does that look weird. I don't want to look it up.). Mine and Joseph's seventh wedding anniversary is coming up. I looked up the anniversary gift list and the traditional gift is wool or copper and the modern is a desk set. The suggested gift list I found isn't really....up to par. I'm not thinking that a copper mailbox isn't feasible since we have community mailboxes and a wool sweater doesn't scream June 2nd anniversary. So I'm thinking a steel wool scrubber brush for our pots and pans. It's a win-win-win since it would be a gift for me for him to do dishes all the time, too. I'll even get it in a copper color. I'm a genius.

Five. I committed to a homeschool co-op for next fall and spring. Classically Catholic Memory is a really neat curriculum written by homeschoolers here in Austin. There's a co-op not far from our house. I bought the curriculum for next year and then discovered that there are co-ops, too, so we've joined the ranks of CCM'ers. I also found another group that is more focused on field trips and socialization, so watch out, world, the Behnkes are coming out of the hermitage.

Six. This weekend, those who serve, particularly those who have died serving, will be remembered in my prayers. My family is a long line of military - army and air force, in particular - and I have a special place in my heart for them. I really love offering up my plenary indulgences for souls in purgatory I don't know; there are times when I offer them for souls that I don't know, but have heard of and wondered if anyone has offered indulgences and prayers for the repose of his or her soul. The two souls that I'm going to offer any plenary indulgence that I may earn are this incredible man and this incredible man. Their quiet lives inspire me and I pray for their eventual sainthood. And if you haven't read The Shadow of His Wings by Fr. Goldmann, please do yourself a favor and buy it yesterday. It moved me more than any book I've read in recent memory. I lent it out and I'm getting hives not having immediate access to it. I kid, Dad. I'll just steal it back. I've done it before and I have no shame in doing it again.

Anyway - point being, maybe try to get a plenary indulgence this weekend on behalf of a holy soul in Purgatory who served his or her country in a particularly holy way. Good citizenship is a virtue (so long as that good citizenship doesn't include breaking moral or natural law!). And did you know you can get a plenary indulgence, under the usual conditions, by saying a family Rosary? And since this is the month of May - the month of Mary - break out the beads or fingers and say a Rosary for a fallen soldier! :)

And a special hat tip to those we know and love that serve our country - My grandfathers, my father, Uncle Captain Nick, Molly's godfather, and some dear, dear friends. We continually pray for their safety and ask blessings upon their sacrifice. Working for the government is no great reward, this we, the family of a state employee, know to be true (ahem, drone reading this....).

Seven. I have nothing else to write about. I was seriously squeezing each ounce of interesting out of my week.

Weekends with Chesterton, first post!

I'd say this is my inaugural Weekends With Chesterton but that'd set my pants on fire, because 1. it's not the weekend (to be fair to myself...in mom time, Wednesday is totally kind of sort of like a weekend because time...it just keeps slipping away) and 2. I've been hanging with GK for years. Just not on the blog. Or in a book written by him. Just with books written about the books written by him. Because GK is more along the lines of:

And I'm more like....hmm...how would I put this gently?

So, I read books and blogs and articles about GK because the one time I tried to listen to an audiobook of Heretics or Orthodoxy (see, I don't even remember which one it was), by the third chapter, it was so far beyond my understanding that I had to ask Joseph what the original point of the book was. 

Hat tip to Mr. C, so long as the hat is not donning my head because the hot air inside of it won't hold it up (jk, I tip my hat toward him time and time again because the man was brilliant and should be canonized, in my outspoken but humble opinion.) 

So, here's my quote for the week:

"The business done in the home is nothing less than the shaping of the bodies and souls of humanity." 

-GKC-

It baffles me when a certain argument is made against Catholicism, particularly in a very open-minded, tolerant, nonjudgmental, loving rant against the male population in our Holy Mother Church - the one that women are suppressed and hated and treated as lower-class citizens.

Let's pause and think about this.

When you're finished laughing and wiping the ensuing tears caused by said hilarity, continue reading.

Au contraire, my friend. GK embraces the Church's understanding about the sacred nature of women and the work that women have been assigned. I'd venture to say that he's the most prolific and poetic writer in our century regarding this discussion, though there are piles of books I haven't read, so make your arguments and recommendations. 

In this sermon,  Father Mozzie discusses this very belief taught by Holy Mother Church (side note: how DARE THE CHURCH HATE WOMEN, SO MUCH SO THAT....wait, the Church calls the institution created by Christ Himself while on earth....a....wait for iiiiiiit....a mother.  Also, listen to the whole thing to get to the point. You're welcome.) - that God has shared with women His creative power, a gift not given to men or angels. And that gift is sacred. Men are entrusted with the spiritual lives of those in their care and women are entrusted to bring new souls into being. It's not a design of one job being better or harder, but a design where each complements and balances the other. 

CS Lewis writes that, "The homemaker has the ultimate career; all other careers exist for one purpose only - and that is to support the ultimate career." 

Tooooootttaaaalllly me, as I calmly and peacefully put my two cherubs to bed.

And the reason that homemaking is the ultimate career is because it is the vocation that is always, always, aaalllllways surrounded by little ones, soaking up the big, brand new world for the first time. And it's what we surround them with that they soak up and live out for the rest of their lives. 

In rare moments of inspiration, I thank the Good Lord for allowing me to partake in the vocation where the only thing He asks of me is to love. I don't have the burden of feeding my family, of providing for a roof over our heads, of bringing sacraments to the dying, or listening to confessions for hours on end. I'm commanded to love. My salvation depends on how well I love and teach love. 

The beauty of homeschooling lies less with the elasticity in schedules, learning philosophies, and curriculum choices and more with the lessons taught through the constant sacrificial love that I, as a mother, have been called to. My little sponges get to see me from the moment they wake up until the moment their little eyes fall shut at the end of the day. Every moment is an opportunity - a calling - for me to show them sacrificial love, through housework, through cooking, through schooling. They get their lessons from no one else. 

My lessons are based around the knowledge that homeschooling isn't tasking me with the job of raising financially successful citizens, but citizens of Heaven.

The Behnke brood. Or those from whom we ask constant help. I've heard it both ways.

I strive for an orderly home not because of pintrest, but because God created an order to all things and it falls into natural law that humans strive toward order. That doesn't mean perfectly scrubbed surfaces and flowers adorning tabletops, but order. And with order comes peace. And with peace comes a greater understanding of the presence of Our Lord. I strive for my home to be open and welcoming to all those that pass through our front door. I may be shoving a pile of books to the side with my foot as I welcome you in, but I've been tasked to welcome you in with love, and that I will do.

I strive for simple, healthy meals because cooking meals for my family isn't simply to nourish their bodies, but to nourish their souls. I treasure the (again, rare) moments when I'm cooking in a peaceful, clean kitchen, and reflect that 2000 years ago, another Mother cooked a simple meal for her Son as He finished up a long day working alongside his earthly father. It helps me have a connection with this Mother with whom I so often feel I have so little in common.

I need this.

I'd settle for this, too.

I dream of quietly living out our days learning about the world God created. 

And in all of these attempts at living out a quiet, simple live, I pray and hope that my children learn that it's not easy being a mother, particularly one who surrounds herself, without break, by her children. I pray and hope that they see that I actively choose to educate at home because their father and I firmly believe that they will get no better lessons in love and faith anywhere else, by anyone else. I pray that they see the sacrifice that their parents give; that when we (ahem, I) fail at loving them in moments of selfishness and fatigue and overwhelmedness, that I do my best to reach out to my own Mother and Heavenly Father and beg them to teach me the same lessons that I'm doing my best to teach my own children. 

William Ross Wallace refrained that "the hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world." My rose-colored naiveté tells me that mothers all do the best they can, but I know that's not true. With the revolution decades ago, the world has been telling mothers that they can do bigger! better! things with their life if they don't stay home with their children. I cringe for the babies that are left alone; for the toddler who begs for nothing more than a cuddle from his mother; for the preschooler, terrified of entering into the big world without her mommy, and forced to do so anyway; for the middle-schooler bullied every single day in his classes because he's a little different; for the high-schooler who has been raised so distant for his parents that he makes choices based on the experience of his peers, rather than the counsel of a wiser authority. My heart hurts for them. Those children will one day rule the world and their cradles were hurriedly rocked by a foot, because their mothers' hands were too busy becoming successful in the world.

This is what my cradle looks like. Peaceful, I know.

I'm not perfect. I'm learning, over and over and over again. There was a point in my life, not too long ago, that my children pretended to be me by falling onto the floor in a sobbing heap. I understand and ache for those mothers who have no choice but to work. I get angry at the fathers who put them in those positions. 

What I'm trying to say is that GK was spot on when he says that we, as mothers, particularly as homeschooling mothers, are shaping humanity. Not only are our children the future of society, but the future of The Church, as well. And that's a pretty big task that we've been entrusted with.  But if we stay faithful in these little tasks, then the reward shall be great.

"His lord said to him: Well done, good and faithful servant: because thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will place thee over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord." Matthew 25:23

We're not convincing our neighbors of our sanity when my children ask to pose with a statue of Our Blessed Mother for a photo on Mother's Day. If this is crazy, I don't want to be sane.

seven quick takes

I know, I know. Take a break from writing every once in a while. We don't need to know every detail of your fascinating life.

1.

We're settling into our "new"  home here in the great liberal mecca of our otherwise beautiful Lonestar state. I'm not being fair. There is so much about this area that we really like. It's May - the weather is about as perfect as weather can get. We are blessed to have family here; family that we haven't lived around before so it's fun getting to know them better as friends, rather than just family. And there's HEB which speaks for itself. 

We're still trying to plug into our parish and homeschooling community. Our parish is a good jaunt and marathon and sprint and car drive away but the priest is a holy, holy man and the congregation is welcoming and kind. But again with the distance. If we buy in this area, we hope to buy closer to the parish. I found a homeschool co-op to join next year so we're well on our way to making this home.

2.

In the same vein, I've finally figured out the pro-life presence in this area. A. There is one. B. There is a big one. C. It's organized. 

Remember this?

For your memory:

(Vom.)

(And again.)

I was able to be there off and on this summer praying for the passage of HB2. In fact, I had just left a little bit before this hailing of demonic powers began (thanks be to God since I had my little ones with me). Through this, I had connected with Texas Alliance For Life. I didn't realized until last week that the pro-life presence in Austin is divided into several facets - political, counseling/prayer/presence, and crisis pregnancy help. 

So I, the person who runs in the opposite direction from confrontation, was trying really hard to get involved with the political aspect of the pro-life group here (cue unending laughter here). Joseph convinced me to attend a "Ladies for Life" brunch last Saturday where I was able to meet some wonderful ladies. They're Catholic, they're pro-life, and the homeschool. Really, I'm not picky. 

3.

I think I mentioned audiobooks the last time I wrote a blog post, but really, they are the knees of the bees. I haven't seen my kids for the last hour, thanks to Cherry Jones and The Banks of Plum Creek. And an hour for a stay-at-home-homeschooling mother is something like 42 hours in regular hours. And behold, a blog post. 

4. 

I should have written a post about this, but Molly turned six two weeks ago. Six. SIIIIIIX. Somehow, the baby that was merely a twinkle in my eye yesterday is six years old. That's school age. That's losing tooth age. Sleep over at grandma's age. 

We went to Lubbock for Easter and celebrated Molly's birthday with dear friends and cousins. And I didn't lift a finger thanks to the generosity and creativity of our dear-friend-might-as-well-be-an-aunt Carla (who needs a blog for her fun creations and super cute kids) and Aunt Jessica. 

Shameless photo bragging about the beauty of West Texas. Except ignore this because I don't want you to move there and make it crowded.

How do you connect with girls between the ages of 3 and 10 right now? "Do your best Frozen pose!"  It's money, people.

Carla put together Molly's idea for a party - a St. Rose of Lima party, complete with crowns of flowers for each girl, rose bouquets, rose candies, and pink lemonade. Aunt Jessica made a rose cake (baked by Grandma). And I very creatively put a pink table cloth on the table and blew up pink balloons (correction: I pulled a Tom Sawyer on the nieces and nephews and they blew up balloons all for the fun of it). Move back, Martha, Melanie's in town. 

5.

On Molly's actual birthday, we did it up right. I took the girls to Chick-fil-A and we went to the park. So, pretty much, we painted the town pink and sparkly compared to our normal schedule. I asked Molly what she wanted to do - anything she wanted to do, anywhere she wanted to go - we would do. She asked to go to the mall. After I finished hyperventilating and my dizziness subsided, I reminded her that it wasn't Christmas, there were no sparkly lights or decorated trees, and Saint Nicholas wasn't laughing joyously from his throne of candy canes, beckoning her bedecked-in-frills-and-bows self over to him for a picture. She wasn't buying it and still wanted to go to the mall. I reminded her Potts wasn't taking her, so there wouldn't be a train ride, candy, pretzels, and cookies, and carousels. She still didn't buy it. So I bribed her with Chick-fil-A and bam, we avoided the crowds and teenagers and trashy advertisements. Mother. Of. The. Year.

6.

Molly was gifted with this:

Wrong kid. They all look the same to me.

Not her sister, this cat. This demon cat. It's "FUR REAL" so it jumps! And meows! And bats it's creepy robotic legs whenever someone walks by! It wouldn't stop screeching even while it sat innocently in the gift bag. It hasn't stopped since. I kid, we let the batteries die. I kid. We hid the cat. We're encouraging it to go the way of the dodo soon.

7.

I'm that underachieving modern-aged mother who takes a lot of pictures and does absolutely nothing with them. But hey, when I'm dead and gone, my kids can plug in my old phones and reminisce during holidays about times of old when I took many a picture of them in dangerous but cute predicaments:

See:

"Hold that panicked cry and let me grab my phone." Two things of note: 1. she really did get stuck this way and 2. she dresses herself.

And when I forced them to hold up the same number of fingers as their age because honey, mama's nothing if not forgetful.

I'll print it out for her wedding. She's six!

And then when I force them to pile on top of me because I have stunted hobbit arms and can't take a normal daughter/mommy selfie.

I'm gonna need a longer arm.

Christmas 2080 is going to be a nostalgic holiday for the Behnke girls.