Road Rage and a Rosary.

I’ve had to learn through the years to keep my gut reactions in check. Mainly because of who or what I represent. I’m a technician at a local pharmacy, I’m the daughter of some well known people in town, and, most importantly, I’m a Catholic. I represent my employers, coworkers, family, church, and Jesus Christ when I’m out and about. This hasn’t always been a thought that I kept at the forefront of my mind. Especially when driving. See, I have this slumbering monster that lurks deep within my heart, and it is only awoken by other drivers. I can’t stand it when people cut in front of me, slam on their brakes with no warning for no reason, turn without using a blinker, etc. But lately I’ve been trying to remind myself of who I represent here on Earth, or more accurately Who, and act accordingly.

Today has not been the best day. I was up tossing and turning all night because I felt sick to my stomach, I got up still feeling sick, I had to wrestle two steadily heavier babies (around 15 lbs each)  and a ridiculously heavy cat (17 lbs) to the vets office this morning, and then  God sent a test my way. I’d like to say I resisted the urge to roll down my window and alert him to his inadequate intelligence for saintly and pious reasons, but alas, I’m not either of those things. See, this guy in an itty bitty teeny weeny Smart Car decided he couldn’t wait two seconds for me to drive past him before he drove across the street to McDonald’s.  And he very nearly hit me in the process.

As any mother might agree, it’s one thing to almost hit me when I’m in a car by myself. Almost hit me when my babies are in said car with me, and I go Hulk-raving mad. It’s not a smart move.  I considered hitting the gas instead of the brake for a sliver of a moment, but that would have put my boys in harm’s way, too, so I resisted and screeched to a stop and laid on the horn. And how does he thank me for graciously sparing his life? An over the top, sarcastic wave and grin. He would have been a speed bump if I hadn’t stopped. And before I could react more thoroughly, he was gone. Driving like the crazed loon he was.

I was fuming over my missed opportunity to alert him to his error of thinking I would be amused by his gesture when I noticed my rosary hanging from my rearview mirror. It occurred to me that he could have seen it from where he was, as well as other drivers around us. And I was suddenly thankful that he had been driving so fast and got away so quickly. You see, I had some choice words for him that were not filled with any form of love, peace, or charity, and if I had been given the opportunity to say them, I would have. And I would not have been being the example I’m called to be.

We are all called, even the youngest among us, to be an example to the world around us. So many times I forget that every decision I make, every action I take, is noticed by someone somewhere. And I want them to notice things that bring them closer to God, not make them think of how I claim to be a Christian, that I go to mass every Sunday, and yet this is how I act. I want them to see God’s love shining through me, not just after I’ve left church and have that Sunday morning glow, but when I’ve been pushed to my limit and I still hold the door for someone who was gripping about my children fussing, or when I smile at the cashier and ask how they are doing when it’s obvious they are in a bad mood, or when I leave the harried waitress who has dark circles under her eyes and a tired face a tip even though she never came to my table past getting my drink order.  

I’ve heard it said by a few women I know that they think it is disrespectful to wear a crucifix or a cross as a piece of jewelry. I think it’s the opposite. Like my rosary that was hanging from my mirror, a crucifix or medal on a chain around my neck reminds me that I represent more than just myself. It forces me to acknowledge that there is more to me than me, that I belong to One who is so much higher above me. I get irritated, frustrated, or stressed and the temptation to snap or ignore someone grows stronger and stronger. But a movement causes the rosary to sway, or the metal to brush my skin, and I’m reminded of Who it is that loved me enough, and that He also loves them enough. And I fervently hope I am always reminded, and so spread His love and word more.

Consistency is as consistency does.

I’m terrible with consistency. And if you notice what the date for my last post was, and what date for this post is, you’ll agree with me. However, I’ve decided that consistency is something I should work on. For example, I’m now heavier than I’ve ever been in my life, including the day my twin sons were born. So I’ve started keeping track of what I eat, made sure to have things on hand to create healthy meals at home, and as of this morning, getting on the elliptical for at least 30 minutes a day. Tomorrow I intend to add Pilates to my workout routine three times a week, but we’ll see. And the key to all of this? Consistency. But I’ve realized something by forcing my lazy self who would only spontaneously give into bouts of good habits. Consistency isn’t just for exercise.

 I’ve abandoned my prayer life for the most part, starting almost two years ago. I felt it wasn’t coming to anything, if I’m honest with myself, because I was praying for a very specific request and had been for months without seeing any results. So I gave up and found something else to occupy my time before bed. And looking back now, it was only a month at most before I had that prayer answered after I stopped praying. I’m not condoning not praying as a way to get your answer, not by any means, but I find it interesting that I had given up without really thinking about what God might be working on. The answer I needed/wanted wasn’t just dependent on me, there were others involved and I realize now that He was nudging them into the right place just as much as He was me. And perhaps I was dragging my feet a bit about obeying Him, and doing a very good impersonation of a stubborn child who wanted it done their way. But that’s another story entirely.

 My point is this. Consistency in our prayer lives is vital to our spiritual lives. When I’m exercising every day and eating right and drinking enough water, I feel great. I have more energy, I feel more able to focus, I’m in a better mood overall. Which leads me to want to exercise more. And if I decide I’m too tired one day, or I don’t have the time to actually cook supper, or the boys have been fussy all day and I deserve a night off so I get Shannon to pick something up on his way home, it leads me to give into the urge to not do as good the next day.

The same could be said for a more active prayer life. I feel closer to God, which gives me more motivation to remain true to my faith, which makes me less inclined to consciously sin, which makes me feel closer to God, which makes me want to pray more. And if that little, high pitched, whiney, nasal voice whispers in my ear ‘oh, it’ll be okay. God knows how rough today has been, he’ll understand if you zone out in front of the television for a little while instead of praying’, then the next time it’ll be a little easier to come up with an excuse not to. So I’m going to be working on this consistency thing that has so far evaded me. I miss my prayer life worse than I miss being able to fit in my pre-pregnancy jeans, and if I’m willing to work this hard to get back to them, then shouldn’t I be willing to work that much more to get back to having a good prayer life?

Welcome!

Is it weird that I’m as excited as I am about having a new blog to play around with? I started one last year, Never Ending Journey, but the name and theme never really fit me (theme being the overarching idea of the blog, not the design). I am, however, extremely happy with my new idea for this blog, and the theme of it. I hope to write, and possibly discuss, things related specifically to home life and the Catholic faith on my own minuscule corner of this vast technological wasteland we dub the Internet, but in a way that showcases the fact that the home we live in and our home in the Catholic Church are not separate. Our lives as Catholics should be reflected in every aspect of our lives, not just which buildings pews we find ourselves in every Sunday morning.  

As a convert from the good ol’ Southern Baptist faction to the millennia’s old Catholic Church, I find myself with an overwhelming amount of information to not only read about and think briefly on, but to truly learn. And, as any education major will heartily agree, there is a vast difference between “learning” and learning. One you gain information for one specific event, such as a test that you cram for and pass but then promptly forget everything you just “learned”, and the other you gain information for life.

And it’s not just about what our beliefs are, but what they are, why they are, how they are, where they came from, who was the first to teach each one, how do we know it’s an infallible teaching, where are the sources for this or that, ect. Not only that, but I want to teach it to my children, and help them learn it so they can live their lives to the fullest. And I’ve read once or twice that it is incredibly hard to do such when the extent of my faith is a ‘Hail Mary’ every now and then and an odd possessiveness to a certain stretch of a padded bench in the back of my local parish that I occupy once a week (hey, some habits die hard).

Maybe it’s not weird that I’m as excited as I am. There’s a lot of possibility for what could happen here, and more than enough motivation to get it done. Maybe if I’m articulate enough I’ll help you on your journey to do the same, and maybe, if we’re both willing to work at it, we’ll do good enough with the tools we’ve been given to move our personal mountains, and we’ll be known by ‘saint’ one day. Now wouldn’t that be something?