In my quest to cut stress from my life before it takes another organ (and one I can’t live without), I’ve had to give up my volunteer position as chair of the Catholic Writers Guild Seal of Approval Committee. Of all the things I do in my life, that was the most stressful, conflict ridden thing. I plan on blogging about what that’s like, having the Catholic writers cause you stress. For now, though, you can take a look at this post from 2014. How to Destroy Your Writing Career.
Reader, do you have an experience with subfertility to share with your fellow Captive Pandas? Did you go from infertile to subfertile, experience secondary infertility, or experience a different path all together? What’s the hardest part of being a Captive Panda Club member? What keeps you going in faith? How has God sustained you through it all? What have been some unexpected blessings you’ve found as a result of trusting in Church teaching on fertility? Talk to us in the comments below!
It’s time for Small Success Thursday over at CatholicMom.com.
This was a powerful experience for me but a weird one, so if you’re weird enough to read my blog, you might get something out of reading the following. My brother-in-law lost his life to lung cancer last Tuesday, the Feast of St. Jude. This is one of those cases where, since my husband is a Tiber-crosser, his family isn’t Catholic, so the comfort of the sacraments wasn’t something on their minds. It was on mine, though. Family is tricky, especially in-laws, especially when they live far away and we’re not all that close to begin with. As my BIL was suffering his own lung problems, coincidentally I was in the depth of my annual viral-triggered asthma cold. For those of you unfamiliar, this means sleepless, wheeze-filled nights and wheeze-filled, cough-filled days. So, given the constraints of earthly relationships and distance, I told God I’d take the wheezing and coughing and offer it up to help my BIL in his suffering. I didn’t do a formal novena, but I asked St.Jude to plead God’s mercy for my BIL as well, and I asked that if BIL passed on St. Jude’s feast, it would be a sign of that mercy. So that happened. That’s not all. The service for BIL was on the evening of All Saints. That night, I was fighting the wheezing and coughing so I could get to sleep. In that twilight between too tired to be fully awake and too wheezy to actually be asleep, I had a sort of waking dream (not a vision or hallucination, mind-you). In it, BIL sat on the side of the bed and palpably touched me on my left bicep. Within moments my wheezing stopped and I fell asleep. Now, I’m no theologian, nor can I say with any certainty what God judges for either of us. Still, the possibility that my offerings for my BIL meant something to him and he knows that I cared enough to offer him my suffering… as Small Successes go, it’s not like it’s a success I can claim, but it is a success for our relationships with each other in Christ. We may be bound by the sacraments, but I’m grateful that God is not.
The laundry is being done and there were a few days in the past two weeks where we didn’t spend a red cent on takeout of any kind.
Driving up and down the state from the height of fall color into its decline inspired a poem. I don’t do poems often, but I do like them.