Join with Jennifer at Conversion Diary and amigos as we participate in 7 Quick Takes Friday.
It’s the feast of St. Francis DeSales, patron of writers!
Why is this guy our patron? Because he didn’t just write. He brought his writing to others through producing pamphlets, posters and so on. He’s also the patron specifically of Catholic press.
According to these folks, St. Francis de Sales, “was overworked and often ill due to his heavy workload. However, he remained active, particularly using his talent for writing to assist him in ministering to others.” This makes me feel especially close to the guy because I myself am sick–again! It’s a pretty vicious episode of asthmatic bronchitis–again. If you can spare a prayer, I’d appreciate it.
Our family picked up whatever virus this is while we were on our Christmas gift trip to Disney World. It was a great trip in spite of the phleghm.
Wednesday was another March for Life that I was too sick to attend. I was even too sick to sit up and post more than a #praytoendabortion tweet, but this was mine.
Why that? I was born at the end of 1973. I was also raised to be “normal,” (a. k. a. not obediently Catholic, certainly not pure in any way that might stand out). While I never quite hit that mark (on many levels), I am of the generation that knows a lot of people–loves a lot of people very much–who’ve had abortions. If I speak out about this, then I am speaking out against my friends who are likely to respond like wounded animals, and rightly so. However, the friends of mine who’ve talked to me about their abortions have always said almost the exact. same. words.
“I just couldn’t do it.”
They weren’t being selfish, lazy, callous, heartless, or any of the gazillion other things we hear them called. They were being honest with themselves and what we’ve all been told we can and can’t do. I doubt they (well, most of them) believed the lie that “It’s not a child. It’s a choice.” The lie they–and I frequently–believed was that we are simply incompetent.
Honestly, that is a hard thing not to believe. Face it: we live in a country where we’re being told we aren’t even capable of mixing our own grated cheese and bread crumbs to make a good-enough casserole topping. Of course we’re going to think that there is no way we could ever do the most difficult thing in the world: raise a child.
If we want to stop abortions, we need to give each other more credit. We need to believe in each other. We need to give ourselves the chance to kick butt. Because we can do it.
I believe in you. Rant over.
Next month I’ll be giving a talk on writing, publishing and networking at the Exton, PA Barnes & Noble to their Wordwrights Writers Group. More details forthcoming!
Congrats to all the nice folks who are nominated for Sheenazing Awards over at A Knotted Life! It’s a long and distinguished list!
Stay tuned! This Wednesday, January 29, I’m working on a little surprise for you writers (seasoned, aspiring, and otherwise)! Hint:
That jab at Kraft made my day. I make almost everything from scratch, so I know I’m the freak, but I am constantly shaking my head and crying WHY??? when I see things that are perfectly simple to make yourself being packaged and sold at exorbitant prices compared to making them at home in five minutes. Food processor + oats = oat flour. Yanno?
I’m not sure if you saw the “2013 Lent Fast, Cheap and Easy Challenge” on my other blog, but I tried putting to task the idea that the working poor need to spend money on prepackaged (read: more expensive) foods in order to save time. From experience, I can say it was doable… but it certainly wasn’t easy. So I have a great deal of compassion–no, now that’s empathy for people who are totally pressed for both time and money. But again, there aren’t many loud voices out there saying, “You can do it.” it=have a baby, raise a baby, place the baby for adoption, make a cake without a boxed mix, whathaveyou. How to increase those voices in both number and volume? I mean, beyond this post? I have no idea.
Me either. I have to remind myself often that we’re not called to succeed, just to try….