Thoughts from The Other Side of the Mountain

An Open Letter to Adoptive Parents who Haven't Heard it Yet

2010-07-28T02:50:00.000-04:00

Dear Parents,

You know who you are. You're the one who had a dream, a hope, a vision of a family in love and intact. You traveled to a foreign country, you pored through websites and adoption listings, you went through the nail-biting hassles of a homestudy and finally your family was formed! It was bliss, a match made in Heaven, prayers answered and battles fought and won. The early days, weeks were a little different than you expected but, you said, my love will be enough. We will get through this. It's an adjustment for all of us. It's going to be ok.

And then every day got more difficult than the day before. Parenting turned from a joy to a chore to a chain. Somewhere along the way something went awry, the dream became sleepless nights, the battles moved from fighting for your children to fighting against them.

Nobody told you it was going to be this hard. Nobody told you what it feels like when your child reacts every time you try to attach your love to her. Nobody warned you about day after day after day the same problems that never get solved, the same lessons that go unlearned. Nobody explained how to talk to a child who doesn't seem to understand right from wrong. And nobody sees the thousands of little things that add up to a cavernous longing in your heart and ache in your head.

And now you feel so alone. Your child looks so normal, so happy. He's a little hyperactive...so what. She has moods, don't we all? He's so well-behaved and you think If you only knew.... As you parry "Is he your real son?" with "Of course he's mine" you play in your mind the tape of his voice saying You're not my mother, I don't belong here, I should just go back....As you smile and say what a blessing adoption is, you inwardly groan at your own words.

You know who you are. You're the one crying in your pillow every night, racked with guilt for even beginning to think that maybe this is the wrong child for you. You're the one either too afraid to talk to God or silently shaking your fist at Him. You're the one who has learned patience beyond endurance. You're the one who is afraid to go to one more doctor, one more therapist and yet longing to hear someone put a label, an explanation, to the confusion. You're the one who is terrified to admit to yourself that you get it when a mom leaves her son abandoned on a hospital ward or puts him on a plane back to Russia. You're the one who's said words you thought you'd never say prompted by words you thought you'd never hear which touch the deepest part of your soul and pierce right through.

It's ok to say it.

It's ok to say you're in over your head.

It's ok to say you don't like your child.

It's ok to say you're tired, worn out, weary, you can't do this for one.more.minute.

It's ok to say your love is not enough to make sense of the mess you've found yourself in.

It's ok to say What happened to my dream?

This parenting adopted children is hard - you have to be hard core, a professional. Gone are the healthy babies born to innocent girls who slipped up once. Now the babies aren't babies anymore. They've been born and raised into a generational cycle of mental illness, substance abuse, neglect and violence and then they are turned loose in our households after the damage is done. This is not for the faint of heart.

Welcome to the club.

Come in, rest awhile, feel believed, accepted, heard. Cry. Yell. Question God. Laugh. Run away for an hour or a weekend. Make jokes that nobody else will understand until they've walked in your shoes. Go ahead. You deserve it. You deserve to allow yourself to hurt. To admit that you have scars and wounds and have inflicted as much on your children as you've battled to understand. Tend to those wounds. Go ahead. It's hard. And you've made it this far. And you're still breathing and God is still in control and His love is enough even if yours isn't. Rest, Breathe, let it all out.

And now start again.

It's still crazy. It still baffles the mind. That child of once-promise is still a child of conundrum. But now you know. Now you know that we are out there. We've walked in your shoes. We've made the same wrong moves, uttered the same foul words from our lips, kicked the same proverbial wall a thousand times over. Some of us would do it all over again and some of us would never have done it in the first place if we had only known.

But now you know we are here for you. We've read books and had countless sessions with therapists. We've pored through websites with titles like All about FASD and How to Parent the Child with RAD. We know more about alphabet soup than even the hundreds of doctors we've hounded over the years. And we've seen it all - fires started, siblings molest siblings, kids who stare, drool, poop their pants through adolescence, touch themselves and everyone else, make stuff up, tantrum for hours and threaten suicide or even murder. We've learned parenting techniques you'll never hear Dr. Dobson mention.

We are strong, we are resourceful, we are just as battle-weary as you are. But we have each other and we have God's love and God's forgiveness and every day is a new day.

It's easier now. It's easier to laugh together. It's easier to receive advice from somebody who gets it. It's a bit quicker to get over the frustration when we can vent and yell and say Can you believe this one?! for the 800th time. Because chances are, yes, we can believe it. We have walked in your shoes. We have let go of children into group homes and psychiatric hospitals and alternative placements. We don't judge. We don't doubt you and we don't give up on ourselves even when we have to give our children over to uncertain futures.

Welcome to the club.

Love,
The Adoptive Parents who have Heard It and Believe it

How That Doesn't Happen or My Totally Geeked Out Cycle

2010-01-19T10:36:00.001-05:00

Seemingly clever people, upon hearing how many children we have, will often exclaim with a perverse grin on (usually) his face, "Don't you know how that happens?!" My stock response is "Yes, we do. We like it very much and we are apparently much better at it than you. Would you like some instruction?" So just to set the record straight, we do, indeed, know how that happens. Our current struggle is in figuring out how to make it not happen.

Long ago when we had only a handful of children Tad and I threw around some numbers that sounded like a nice robust number of children to raise. All along I thought 16 was nice and Tad's standing answer was that he would get to 12 and see how he feels. I was ok with 12 as a working number but that 16 has always been lurking in the back of my mind. Anyway, 12 seemed like such a big number and it seemed so far away that I wouldn't have to think anymore about it for a long time to come. Well, wouldn't you know it, this summer we placed number 11 with us in July. Then in August number 12 was born. Shortly afterwards, Tad and I looked at each other and said....huh....

Tad decided he wanted to stick to his guns. He loves our twelve but they are a lot of work, he is the provider and he's, well, tired. Pregnancy is an especially tiring time for him as he is the one who picks up all my slack when I simply can't do what I can usually do. I understand that, I respect that. I'm tired too. A rest would be nice. But this is where it gets complicated. We are committed to living this all-natural life-style, to leaving room for God to work where He will, to not try to "fix" what isn't broken and yet my cycle doesn't cooperate with the various sympto-thermal methods out there. I've explained that dilemma in detail here.

So what's a tired couple to do? In true engineer form, Tad researched technology that would help us solve this problem. In the end, he purchased two different electronic monitors to follow my cycle and help us determine the days when that can happen and the days when that isn't likely to happen. We've started this month tracking things on the OvaCue

which monitors the electrolyte levels in the saliva. Next month we add in the ClearBlue monitor

which tracks LH in the urine. In the meantime we're also adding in the extra precaution of old fashioned mucus observation. I am beginning to feel as if no other woman has a cycle so completely geeked out as my own. Only my husband could accomplish that. I believe he has my cycle covered on every front - not much chance of that happening any time soon - especially since my only responsibility is to report to the monitors each day while reading and "interpreting" the data rests in his capable hands.

So the real kicker here is that if and/or when we ever do conceive again (yes, it's still open for discussion) number 13 will be our first planned pregnancy.

Philipism

2010-01-16T11:19:00.000-05:00

I have this pipe dream (insert therapist's voice here - "Glad to know you recognize it as a pipe dream, Mary") that someday I am going to have a meaningful conversation with Philip. I just want it to happen so badly that I do everything in my power to set it up only to have it fail again and again. Phililp is just simply not capable of meaningful conversation. His idea of conversation is spouting off ad nauseum about his favorite computer game or movie lines. That's about it. He spouts, I listen (or within about 3 seconds cease to listen because he really doesn't care if I'm listening or not he just cares about his right to spout). At 12 he's still shouting out "Look! A dump truck!" every time we drive by one on the highway. Cute retention of his childlike naivete and wonder with the world but not so much on the fodder for meaningful conversation.

Ever since The Finger incident (broken pinky from going down a slide head-first just two days before his appointment with the ped to discuss meds for impulse control) I've had plenty of time to spend with just Philip working on said meaningful conversation skills. We've had lots of appointments to doctors and xrays.

He likes to sit in the front seat of the van but he doesn't *do* anything there. He just sits. Our conversation might go like this

So, whatcha thinkin' about?

Blank stare

You're looking out the window, I bet you have something on your mind.

Blank stare

A movie? Something you see outside?

Look! A dumptruck!

Yep, there's a dumptruck.

Walking from the car to the doctor's office is also an exercise in socialization. He always walks precisely three steps behind me. I've tried in vain every time to explain to him that if he keeps step with me and we walk side by side we can chit chat as we walk and this is something people like to do. He walks exactly two steps behind me...for about three steps...and then he's right back where he started from. I gave up on that one. I'm sure anyone watching us is convinced that I'm a selfish mom who doesn't bother to grab those precious moments alone with my son...or they just think he's being a moody preteen...neither could be further from the truth.

So there we are in the waiting room. Magazines have interesting pictures and articles. I try to use an issue of Sports Illustrated as a spring board for some serious mother-son bonding. I find an article about a football player he enjoys watching on tv and then get called to the receptionist.

You read that article, I'll be right back and why don't you tell me about it.

I return, skim over the article, and realize it's a description of the man's prison term he served and how he's walking in his father's footsteps. Now suddenly I'm hoping Philip *didn't* pick up on that...

So what did you read?

I read about him, points to picture of football player.

And what did you read about him?

He plays football.

Yes, he does. Did you read that?

Yes. (ok, now he gets an F in reading comprehension for which I am strangely grateful)

Did you find out anything else interesting about him?

He tackles people?

Wide receiver - probably not - but at least he's riffing on something besides movie lines and computer games.

We get called in for the xray and I now have the pleasure of watching someone *else* struggle to communicate with my son.

Philip, can you put your hand on this table like this?

He turns it to and fro but cannot figure out how to make it look like the technician's positioning.

So how did you injure your finger?

He looks at me.

I wait for him to answer his own durn question.

On the slide.

Oh, did you fall on it?

He looks at me.

I wait for him to answer his durn question.

Yeah, I went *waves hands around and makes slippery slide sound effects*

At this point the tech looks at me and says "Can you get him to put his hand like this?"

Sure, lady, got a picture of a dump truck?

Our last trip to the imaging center I decided to try to chat with him about his upcoming musical rehearsal. Last year they did Music Man and he loved it - it was awesome. Surely he'd like to hear about this year's plans.

You have Staccatos practice tonight!

Blank stare.

Staccatos - you remember last year when you did Music Man? You loved it!

Blank stare.

Do you want to know what you'll be singing this year?

Confused look.

This year is all songs from early rock and roll. Like you might be singing....maybe...Elvis...or songs by the Beatles.

Mom?

Yes?

What's an elvis beatle? (No lie, this is what the boy said to me. I was so taken aback I went home and grilled Ben about whether or not I had ever educated them about The King. He immediately began to rattle off a long string of lines from songs, two parodies he'd seen about Elvis and a whole rash of other Elvis trivia which assuaged my guilt about never having exposed my children to such a pop icon.)

So the next day we are off to see the orthopedist. I've about given up at this point. At any rate, I'm not going to try for another awkward and disappointing car conversation so we just drive in silence until Philip, on his own steam, looks at me and says

Mom, why is Govorner O'Malley going to give us all jobs?

Uh huh. Why indeed. Well, son, ever since the economy tanked lots of people are out of jobs and so he wants us to believe that he's helping.

Oh. Is that why he's spending so much money?

No, he's spending money because he's a Democrat.

Apparently, he *was* reading those billboards and road signs all along and I just didn't think to engage him in socio-political analysis. Silly me. Next time he breaks a limb I'll know.

And I'm Still Sayin'...

2009-11-11T01:29:00.001-05:00

Last week Benjamin scored himself a job as party coordinator for an 8 year old lego party. The guest of honor is the son of a school friend of mine with whom I've been recently reunited via facebook - and whom I hadn't seen in 21 years. She was using her facebook status to vent about her unpreparedness for her son's birthday party when I recommended she employ Ben's talents...and so she did...and so we got the chance to jump from 17 to 39 in one afternoon. Ben did a wonderful job with the party, the Party Boy was happy, the Mom was happy, the guests had fun and all was a success - but all that has nothing to do with what I'm sayin'.

My friend's son has some issues - issues which require speech therapy, attempts at special diets, navigation through doctors, IEP's and other such fun. So, consequently, did several of his friends. So there I was at the party supporting Ben and hanging out with the moms of the 8 year old boys. I was tagged as counter-cultural from the get-go when I was introduced to each one as the friend she hadn't seen in 21 years who has 12 kids - one of whom is getting paid to run this party - and homeschools. That little intro didn't earn me new friends very quickly so I was relegated to listening to them share their public school woes while intermittently watching their sons "interact" with one another.

Now, I'm no developmental expert but I'm thinking by the age of 8 kids are supposed to be beyond the parallel play stage - as least mine are by the time they hit about 2 1/2 or...1 1/2 depending upon the kid - and one of those at age 12 was doing a rather adult job at running this party. (But never mind that, mine are all unsocialized homeschoolers, back to the party at hand.) What I observed was that the only boys actually interacting with one another were the birthday boy and his younger brother. The rest of the 8 year old boys were simply engaged in parallel play - even when Ben tried to encourage them to share together in group games. They didn't make eye contact with one another, they didn't share and they didn't speak to each other except to proclaim loudly the injustice of one infringing upon the other's personal space. Even then they wailed at the closest adult rather than try to work it out with their peers. They all seemed to be sweet boys but oddly out of touch with each other and with their party manners.

Upon closer observation I guessed that at least one of the boys was on the autism spectrum. After listening to the moms chat I realized that at least 4 of the others (including the birthday boy) were, at the age of 8, still receiving speech therapy services - which probably indicates some larger problems at that age. So at least 5 of the boys had some undetermined level of special needs. I'm not sure about the other 3 or 4. All of them had been raised up through the public education system and so had the great benefit of inclusion with their peers and specially tailored special education services. (nope, no sarcasm noted here, move along people) Why, then, I'm asking myself, were they so woefully deficient at relating in a social situation? They were in the bodies of 8 year olds with the play skills of toddlers. Isn't this the exact goal of integration - to include children with special needs in an inclusive classroom setting so that they can be guided into normal, healthy social relationships? I don't know about those moms, but I personally wouldn't check off a 6-year gap in social skills as a goal met. But wait, maybe I should check their IEP's first - perhaps I can check it off.

For answers to these questions I turned my attention back to the moms. They unanimously agreed that the speech services their children had received over the years were inadequate for various reasons. The same held true for those who had utilized the OT and PT services in their public schools. There were scattered compliments amidst a general distaste for the whole special education experience - which ranged from IEP meetings, to general classroom teachers to administrators to therapists. One mom complained that she had even been reported to the vice principal for observing her son's classroom for a few minutes during her weekly volunteer day! Aside from IEP meetings, these moms have been left out of the therapeutic picture. For the day to day skill building efforts they relied entirely upon school staff and yet none of them expressed a whole lot of confidence in or affection for the staff serving their children. In Mary Land that is simply unacceptable. My kids don't go into a therapeutic setting where I am not invited. Consequently I now have some basic understanding of behavioral therapy, speech therapy, occupational therapy, physical therapy, social skills development, hippotherapy, remedial math teaching techniques and my list goes on and on. These moms had...well, Nothing. And it showed.

If you haven't yet read my previous post on this issue go ahead and read it now. I'll wait.......done? Good...So, the part about the importance of the teacher/instructor/facilitator? This is simply a case in point. These boys are suffering from a lack of skilled and interested adults in their lives. This was evidenced first-hand by the moms' reaction when their boys were not able to get along with others - they wailed, they grabbed, or they just went off and pouted and the moms.did.Nothing. They have been well-trained by the school system to stay out of their kids' lives. As much as they whined and complained about the other adults in their children's lives they didn't seem to know how to fill in that gap where the other "authorities" had fallen short.

Sad, sad, sad - so sad to me that I found myself feeling insecure, angry, frustrated for these boys as this conversation with the moms and my observation of the boys at play wore on. The specific mechanism at play here was the abdication of both school authorities and parents in the lives of these children. When adults don't do what adults are supposed to do for kids, those kids get hurt. If they already have a compromised sense of normal they fail to be able to accomplish even the most basic of tasks. So here I had the perfect test case for inclusion - special needs children, trained up in the public school system, and set loose in an integrated, outside social setting. And I'm still sayin' not much to see here, folks.

Ugh

2009-11-10T18:22:00.000-05:00

This remarkable photo was in my email in-box today. I think it is the most disgusting rendering of "Jesus Christ" (I can't even seriously say that who it's supposed to be) I have ever seen. It's sort of a Jesus-Cross-Dresses-As-Danielle-Boone portrait. Protestants seriously need to explore real iconography and stop clogging our Christian pop culture with this nonsense. Lord have mercy!

More Art that Moves the Soul

2009-09-17T23:03:00.002-04:00

Thanks to Dixie for posting this first.

I'm Just Sayin...

2009-07-28T22:03:00.002-04:00

Last week was fishing camp. This was a federally subsidized program at a local public park. Registration was only $15 per camper for the week and the idea is to teach kids to fish to give them a productive and fun alternative to illegal drug use. I'm not sure about the premise of that (something tells me several of my pot-smoking friends from my past probably spent a lot of time tripping while fishing...) but I am all for a good deal. And since it was federally subsidized I knew they couldn't turn down my dear children with special needs. That's one child with Down Syndrome, check, One child with Autism and Mental Retardation, check, One child with Reactive Attachment Disorder, check. So I signed them all up - Miriam, Philip and Ruth all got to go to fishing camp. Andrea was also signed up but sine she's stuck in PA with her foster family in a tangled web of interstate compact requirements, she wasn't able to go.

The three of them had a blast. They *loved* fishing. They loved fishing camp and they all said they'd like to return next year. Now my beef is with this whole idea of integration. It's been called various things over the years - started out as mainstreaming and may be called something completely different at this point but I wouldn't know as I checked out of that idea long ago. In fact, I've been kicked out of yahoo groups and left support groups because of the controversy caused by the opinions I'm about to share. So go ahead, flame away in the comments, just keep it clean please.

On about day 4 of 5 days of camp I turned to my three children with special needs and asked them if anyone could tell me the names of people they'd met at camp (and with whom they had now spent about 12 hours of camp time). Out of three people, I got one name. One. And that wasn't a name that was shared with any enthusiasm. Apparently making friends with said child didn't work out too well and I can only imagine the reasons.

Now my understanding of this whole integration or inclusion or mainstreaming or whatever you want to call it is that it is supposed to benefit everyone. The typical children are supposed to glean valuable friendships and insights from their differently-abled classmates, the teachers and instructors are supposed to facilitate and foster such exciting and comfortable relationships and the differently-abled children are supposed to find themselves in a wonderfully tolerant and inviting atmosphere. Never have I seen this actually happen whilst out and about. Granted, we homeschool so it *does* happen in our home. I am their instructor and facilitator, their sibs are their friends and they are the recipients of a lot of social instruction and "inclusion" in main-stream activities and learning environments.

I know their rights and I do try to include them in as many mainstream programs as they can handle. But I refuse, for example, to sign up Philip for a parks and rec U13 soccer team when I *know* he will not be able to keep up with the other boys. He will not understand the team dynamics, he will not be an asset to the team spirit or to the scoring record. The other boys will find him odd and annoying and the poor parent volunteer coach will most likely have no idea how to handle the dynamic, reign in the criticism of the other children and help Philip conquer his autistic tendencies and make his own little splash on the team. It's a pipe dream at best, at its worst it's setting up my chidren with special needs for failure they aren't even going to recognize or understand. Which is why the three of them went to fishing camp together. They had each other at least (Philip also had his one best friend in all the world along too so he had a bonus but that's fodder for a different post) and they could relate to one another when no one else would try to relate to them.

I have had some small successes. I have to say that the key to making the whole idea work is the instructor/teacher/facilitator role. I find, for example, the YMCA programs to work really well for our kids with special needs. Their instructors/coaches are paid employees, well-trained in teaching and coaching children with a broad range of needs and abilities. They are generally great at drawing out the talents of our kids and helping the typically functioning kids relate to them at a more personal level. Our recent foray into swimming lessons went quite well , also, for the girls, who had an instructor who immediately keyed into Miriam's and Ruth's needs and strengths. If the schools were full of teachers with her level of insight and skill at handling their needs I may not hesitate to send them to public school. Philip's instructor, however, was young and inexperienced with his level of needs. She made some crucial mistakes in instructing him and now he may never be able to do a few of those strokes since he learned them wrong the first time. The girls' instructor also made an effort to form a cohesive group among the four students in her class (3 of whom were my girls). Philip's instructor made no such attempt and Philip remained an outsider without any chance at developing relationships with the other students in his group.

But we have had great success at helping our kids with special needs find a place and feel loved, accepted and be able to form genuine friendships. That is within the special needs population itself. When Philip and Miriam are with other folks who share their needs they thrive. Philip gets to be the hotshot on the Special Olympics basketball team because he happens to be a bit higher functioning than the others. Miriam can't sing a single note on key but she loves to sing and she got her chance to put on a costume and sing her heart out in the special needs musical production. The other parents know how to talk to my children, to bring them out, to joke with them and to seek out their true personalities. The place where we feel most at home with our chidren with disabilities and where those children can really shine is right in the midst of others like them.

I do see it as my job to prepare them to be as much a part of the mainstream population as they can be. Eventually they will hopefully hold down jobs, perhaps live in a group home within the community, or walk to the store to get themselves some groceries. But I don't think they will ever find true acceptance in the mainstream, excepting the few gems who surprise us along the way and care enough to open themselves up to them. And so Getting Along in the World is, for us, just another school subject. They don't do well in that subject and they need lots of extra tutoring. Mainstreaming, Integrating, Including...it's nothing but a pipe dream.

You see, I'm just sayin'...if they can spend a week with a group of kids who didn't even bother to share their names with them, even under the tutelage of two paid instructors, what good does the whole idea do them?

When was the last time...

2009-07-14T10:11:00.003-04:00

you read through the Declaration of Independence? Here is my friend Nick in Revolutionary soldier garb reading the document from beginning to end on July 4th. It's always good to remember our roots! Thanks Nick!

I Have PTSD

2009-07-01T00:48:00.002-04:00

I have PTSD- Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

It isn't something that only affects war veterans. Anybody with trauma in their past can experience it.

I was just a child when I was traumatized. I didn't ask to be molested, to be a witness to other sexual violence, to be forced to keep secrets that no child should have to bear, to be born with a heart condition that required life-threatening surgery, to lose friend after friend in car accidents. But it happened to me. I was only a child. I had no authority, no power, no responsibility to fix what I experienced. And nobody saw the signs, and nobody helped me and so I learned that the world is not safe, that people cannot be trusted, that those in authority do not always help or care, in fact often they hurt, that even grown-ups can turn a blind eye to what is really sick in the world. I yearn to feel safe and when there is no safety I turn away or lash out.

I have bad dreams. Sometimes I am afraid to go to sleep at night because men with guns haunt me and try to shoot me down. Sometimes I am afraid to go to sleep because something will chase me and I won't be able to move my legs, I will be unable to avoid being hunted down and hurt....again.

I may lose my focus during a conversation. If I hear something that doesn't seem safe I will turn off and stop hearing and try to figure out how to get safe again. Sometimes I can never figure it out. Sometimes I won't be able to have anymore conversations with you or I will have to avoid certain topics, especially if my pain is bumping into pain you don't even know you have inside of you.

I may lose my temper and you won't know why. You won't know that the door slamming makes me feel like a lost 5 year old again, alone in a hospital bed wondering what is coming down the hallway outside my door, outside my control. There are many sounds, many phrases used in conversation, smells, songs on the radio, which remind me of past trauma and make me feel helpless and angry inside.

I probably won't remember your name or what you look like after I meet you for the first time. I can't remember a lot of things - the color of my children's eyes, details about people I've met, whether or not I've seen a movie or read a book before. Memories are painful things and my mind doesn't always like to make new ones and so I've forgotten years of study in college and graduate school, I don't know if I liked a movie I saw last week because I can't remember a thing about it and I can't tell you my children's birthdays. There are, however, some memories in my mind that are vivid, painful, agonizing, that haunt me and won't go away.

I live with the constant fear that those I love will be gone in an instant. I assume the worst will continue to happen to me and the ones I love. I expect to be traumatized again and again.

All I want in the world is to feel safe and for my children to be safe. If I feel we are being threatened I will do my best to protect us. Sometimes my best is too much and I fear the day when it will not be enough.

I am getting help for this condition. I am in therapy and I've come a long way. I no longer feel the rage I once did. I remember the trauma that caused this all and I can now put real emotions to what were once just silent movies running in endless loop through my mind. I don't have nightmares very often anymore. I understand what "triggers" my feelings and my reactions. I can identify when I don't feel safe and I know why I feel that way and I have healthier ways of handling that feeling. I have adopted children who have been traumatized also. I understand them better. I am a better parent because I know their pain. I want to be a whole person. I want to have my memory back. I want to be able to feel appropriately and love freely and trust more. I want to *know* that God is good and loves mankind. And I want all that for my own children. I want them to have the care-free childhood that was stolen from me by perverts and circumstance.

I wrote this as part of my own healing process but as I get better, I am realizing more and more just how many of us walk around with pain from our past and never get help. And hurt people wound others. So many people who hurt shut off parts of themselves to maintain and move on as if nothing happened. If you can relate to what I've written here, please get help. You don't have to live with the fear and the rage and the confusion. It can get better.

The Mermaid

2009-05-01T07:17:00.001-04:00

This is an amazing paint on glass animation. In my recent search for art that moves me this just surged to the top, although I'll have to watch it a few more times. If you go to youtube, some of the comments explain the lore behind the story.

Happy Thoughts for You

2009-04-25T21:36:00.000-04:00

Early Sunday Morning - Christ is Risen!

2009-04-19T20:20:00.024-04:00

Late Saturday Night

2009-04-19T20:15:00.009-04:00

Friday Evening

2009-04-17T22:06:00.007-04:00

Images from Good Friday

2009-04-17T17:14:00.007-04:00

Holy Week: Wednesday - Anointing

2009-04-16T15:59:00.007-04:00

Here are some images from last evening's service of anointing. I took them on my cellphone so not the best. I have lots more to say about this service but I also have lots to do to prepare for Great and Holy Pascha...

When it Works Too Well...

2009-04-08T22:27:00.002-04:00

Anyone familiar with treatments for autism should know about the gluten-free/casein-free diet. Many have tried it, many have found it successful, many have given up on it. I am among the many giver-uppers but I didn't give up on Philip's dietary intervention completely. I was relieved to be able to leave gfcf behind (and all the cooking with fickle tapioca and rice flours) and embrace the Specific Carbohydrate Diet. While gfcf promises to relieve the symptoms of autism, SCD hopes to go to the source of the problem and heal. The main premise of the gfcf diet is to eliminate those gluten and casein proteins in order to keep the gut and the brain in balance. (Without that balance, the brain interprets the break-down of the proteins similarly to its absorption of opiates.... explains quite a lot 'bout autism, don'tcha think?!) It is a forever proposition and, in Philip's case, I found that tiny infractions could affect him for a month or more. This is why so many of those who use this diet for autism seem oddly militant with their separate cookware and utensils, their incessant checking of lists and ingredients and their hyper-vigilance to avoid even the tiniest infractions. I can't say that I blame them one bit.

SCD, however, attempts to actually repair the gut so that it can safely digest the offending proteins. The main tool for this repair is the SCD yogurt which is specifically cultured to eat up the bad bacteria and build up the good ones. When we first put Philip on the gfcf diet it was months before we saw any dramatic difference. We were watching for indicators like...well, just read this blog post and you'll see what we're hoping to improve upon - she says it much better than I could have. With the gfcf diet we saw small improvements here and there - enough to keep going but not enough to keep us from jumping ship when we figured we'd found something better.

SCD is the something better for us. Within a single day we saw vast improvements. Philip stopped many of his perseverative habits, he was able to maintain eye contact with us, he desired to socialize with his peers and became concerned with building friendships - huge differences in no time at all. That yogurt gets into Philip every morning - just a spoonful will do it - and he begins to seem, well, almost normal at moments. The biggest indicator of "normality" is that he will express emotions that just never hit him otherwise. Unfortunately they are generally emotions like anger, frustration, blame and they are never directed at his own self (which is, ironically enough, normally the center of his Universe Focus). Yesterday was just such a day when the emotions erupted and I found myself unprepared. He cried, he screamed, he threw his glasses down the hallway and it was all my fault. Why? Because...brace yourselves....I treat him like a slave - I make him do...gasp!...JOBS! For a few moments there he started to sound like a typical pre-teen boy.

Now I'm not saying things are rosy - it may be a long walk in this park with Philip before I even spot any roses - but it's times like this that I get a glimpse into who he may actually be underneath all of his dysfunctions and inabilities. I only wish the success we find could be at the Happy end of the scale.

Always There

2009-03-22T23:35:00.002-04:00

John Michael is frequently out and about with me since he is the only one in the family who likes to go the "food store". John Michael lives for trips to the food store. Recently he started a game he calls Always There. He noticed that by the time he got unbuckled and climbed out the door of the van, I was there to open the door and get him safely out. He remarked, "Mom, you're always there. I'll call this game Always There and every time I go somewhere with you, I'll look for you and I know you'll be there because you're always there." Since then, every time he hops out of the van or climbs up onto the sidewalk and sees me there waiting he smiles and says half to himself, "yep, always there."

I've been absent from life lately, as evidenced by the dearth of posts on this blog. I've been focused entirely on our household and little else. Things have been hard here - in a doing-really-good-but-hard-work sort of way. Adora is growing and seeking new boundaries and stretching her wings. Tad is deep into rediscovering himself now that he's no longer a priest and is trying to reconnect with his focus in life. His sessions with our therapist have been intense. JT has been struggling with self-esteem issues triggered by Math Blues. His response to that struggle has been intense. We have a complicated adoption in the works which is about to require a lot of time and attention as we do a rush job on a homestudy. And my body is busy gestating while my mind and my heart are sorting through all of the above business and trying to hold it all together. In the midst of it all, I've spent my own share of time in the therapist's office, this time to attend to my needs instead of those of our children. My own inner child is getting a work out too.

As I've discussed all the various issues of hurting and wounding children - whether it be my husband, my own children or me - our therapist points again and again to how God grants us what we need to make it through traumatic experiences. When children experience trauma they are ill-equipped to handle, they learn to keep themselves intuitively safe. They devise all sorts of methods to distance themselves from the pain - they detach, disassociate, learn to hum in their heads, develop intricate imaginary lands, write stories, paint pictures, daydream...And somehow they survive. It is our therapist's contention that all these things are God-given gifts. Yes, God allows children to be hurt and abused and wounded - it would not be a loving relationship with humanity otherwise - but He also gives children the ability to survive, to make it through childhood to safety.

In my own reflections, I've been pondering the idea of being "weak" versus "strong". In all that I experienced that was traumatic in my childhood (and there were many experiences) I survived by doing all I could to prove to myself that I was "strong". Strength, to me, became a measure of survival. The stronger a person, the better able to survive. Unfortunately, my strength became a weakness as well. I was so "strong" that I alienated almost everyone I came in contact with. What friendships I managed to forge over the years fizzled after a while. I was too intense, too judgmental maybe, too something for others to be comfortable around me for long. I've mellowed over the years and now have a lot of wonderful, meaningful friendships but I had to learn to accept some weakness in myself in order to do so.

I've come to see that the strength I gained through my childhood did not come from me. It came from the One who created me. It was His gift to me to see me through the pain and the struggles of life. I'm safe now. I'm no longer drifting in a sea of pain. I don't need the same safety nets I once did. I can learn to embrace my own weakness but even that weakness will become a strength because it, too, comes from the Source of Strength. So I've been looking back and forth - between my childhood and my present and what I see is that God is Always There. Just like John Michael's game, I, too, can smile when I get off the bus and see Him standing there. When I step off the sidewalk into the unknown of my weaknesses He is quietly standing by to give me a hand down. He is, always has been and always will be Always There. Sometimes it takes the wisdom of a 5 year old to really get it.

5th Photo Meme

2009-02-27T08:45:00.002-05:00

This the 5th photo from the 5th folder in my "to be sorted" folder. Nate is the baby so must be Christmas of 2006. Obviously I'm a bit behind on my to be sorting.

Shout Outs

2009-02-19T23:42:00.004-05:00

An on-line friend has finally succumbed to Blogger Fever and graced the blogosphere with her presence. I assure you she is a treasure the internet has been missing. So, folks, meet Molly (chrismation name Empress Theodora), fellow homeschooler, humorist and Orthodox pilgrim. Prepare to be amused!

Another Orthodox homeschooling friend has a new foodie blog with loads of great fasting recipes just in time for Great Lent. Denise has a real gift for sharing the joys of family meals.

Enjoy enjoying blogs I enjoy! (OK, so I used that line on my other blog already...I thought it was a really good one.)

Three

2009-02-12T22:27:00.004-05:00

I've picked up this meme from Don's blog. If you join me let me know so I can come learn a little more about you too!

THREE NAMES I HAVE BEEN CALLED:

1. MaryAnnie (don't anyone get any ideas)
2. Mairs
3. Cwazy Mawy (can't believe I'm admitting to that one - that was before anyone could recognize a manic episode for what it was lol)

THREE JOBS I HAVE HAD IN MY LIFE:

1. Drapery Seamstress
2. Bakery Drone in a grocery store
3. Youth Minister

PLACES I HAVE LIVED:

1. Providence, RI
2. London, England
3. Lewisburg, PA

THREE TV SHOWS THAT I WATCH:

1. "House"
2. "American Idol"
3. "Ace of Cakes"

THREE PLACES I HAVE BEEN:

1. Pittsfield, MA
2. Bread and Puppet Theater in VT
3. Calais, France

PEOPLE WHO E-MAIL ME REGULARLY:

1. Catherine
2. Linda
3. Shelley

THREE OF MY FAVORITE FOODS:

1. Stromboli
2. Custard filled donuts
3. Chocolate fudge

PEOPLE I THINK WILL DO THIS:

1. Hmmmm
2. Ummmm
3. Anyone?

THREE THINGS I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO:

1. Labor and Delivery (yes, I LOVE to give birth!)
2. Holding my newborn
3. WARM weather!

Now, here's what you're supposed to do... Copy to your notes (if you're on Facebook) and then fill in your own answers. The theory is that you will learn a lot of little known's. If you're a blogger, please leave a comment so we'll know to check out your "three" on your blog!

Living For Forgiveness Vespers

2009-02-11T23:55:00.002-05:00

Last year we found ourselves in the rather odd position of participating in Forgiveness Vespers as relative new-comers to our parish. We'd been a part of the Four Evangelists family for just a few short months, not yet chrismated in our first Sunday as catechumens and still trying to figure out the whole Orthodoxy thing when we suddenly found ourselves thrust into approaching each and every member of the parish seeking from them and granting to them forgiveness. Our parish is gracious and our participation in this annual ritual was handled with joy and love.

I fell in love with the whole idea of Forgiveness Vespers immediately - perhaps precisely because of the love shared with us by our fellow parishioners. Shortly thereafter I began to reflect on what it would mean to come back in a year, with these same people, and wondered if over the course of that year I would have time to collect ill thoughts, unforgiven grudges, judgmental attitudes, disgruntled murmurings in my heart about these people. Surely it is possible for I am a sinner, I am driven by pride, I have strong opinions. A year seemed a long time to go without tripping over my own vanities and carrying genuine feelings and actions in need of forgiveness into the next year's Forgiveness Rite.

I vowed then that I would attempt to live my parish life in anticipation of Forgiveness Vespers. (Notice I only said parish life - extending this little experiment to my whole circle of relationships seemed way too daunting a task.) I said to myself, "If the opportunity arises for me to feel slight or anger or to grow judgmental, I will choose humility. I will bow before the icon of Sophia and hear her wisdom to my soul." That sort of vow changes things in a person. It made me hear the words of others and decide to hear in love. It made me see the actions of others and choose to see hands that serve. On a very, very few occasions it made me drop my pride in an instant and accept that people are who they are - all of us in process, all of us with failings and shortcomings. It gave new meaning to Lord have mercy on me a sinner.

I believe I can enter into our Forgiveness Vespers this year truly holding no grudges or ill thoughts. Granting forgiveness will be simple and genuine because of this discipline in which I've lived over the past year. (Well actually it will be simple because I have the best parish *ever* with people who truly fail to offend in the first place. If only we all had it this easy.) I only hope that the other angle proves fruitful as well. In my own bumbling and prideful way I am certain I have offended others. In coming out of a traumatic church environment and into the safety of a healthy environment I have let my fears and insecurities show. How could it be that I have not made a single hurtful comment or nary an inadvertent harmful reference? I often go to Liturgy tired and end frustrated with all the distractions and busy-ness of singing in the choir *and* handling the needs of 10 children. I'm not nice when I'm in a bad mood or when I'm interrupted for the umpteenth time. Certainly I have offended others. But I am counting on their forgiveness. I am banking on the hope that they are more gracious to me than I will ever need to be to them.

Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.

Thought for the Day

2009-02-01T13:45:00.000-05:00

If Orthodox are supposed to fast from *everything* before receiving Holy Eucharist than why are they so late to church?

My Turn for Fame

2009-01-29T09:25:00.002-05:00

About a month or so ago Kh. Frederica was at our little mission parish to meet with her spiritual advisor. Her daughter also attends Liturgy at Four Evangelists. After Liturgy I got a chance to sit down with her and ask to what we owe the pleasure of her visit. In answer to my question she pulled out her tape recorder and asked if she could interview me for her podcast. I think the intention was to discuss large families, instead we got off on quite a few tangents about special needs and charismania. The podcast is now posted on Ancient Faith radio. It was a lot of fun to do - and I'm giggling through most of it because we had soo many interruptions. She wanted to do a podcast on our large family and she got plenty of little ones who wanted to join in the attention! I haven't figured out how to embed sound links yet so you'll have to travel to Ancient Faith to enjoy it - it's titled "And Baby Makes Twelve" (that was right before we found at that I am pregnant again).

Not to be outdone, Tad was invited back to the Generation Orthodox podcast which is now up (I haven't given it a listen yet).

The Obligatory Post: Inaugural Reflections

2009-01-21T13:23:00.002-05:00

I've been attempting to put into words my thoughts about our recently inaugurated president. I am not a particularly political person by nature although I do care deeply about the foundation of our nation and preserving our citizens' rights to worship, parent and live with the freedom to follow our convictions without undue government interference. Although this article came from a Catholic source, it probably embodies my thinking better than anything else I've read or tried to contemplate on my own. I have a lot of questions in my soul about how our nation turned to such a leader with so much enthusiasm. I just don't get it in the deepest part of me. I am not a one-issue voter, I am a Character voter and the abortion issue to me is an excellent litmus test for testing the character of a person. Our current president has failed...miserably. What is wrong with so many who simply overlook his desire to annihilate the least and the lost while spouting rhetoric that holds himself up as a champion of human rights? I, like the author of this article, feel remarkably like an alien in my own nation.

Alien Nation

January 20th, 2009 by Doreen Truesdell (posted to CatholicExchange.com on 1/20/09)

I am a middle aged, middle income, traditional Catholic female and I don’t belong here anymore.

The nation I have loved all my life has rebelled, like some arrogant teenager who smugly tells his mother and father that he knows more than they do. It’s been coming on for some time, but I’ve always comforted myself with the thought that I stood with a silent majority that was just too busy working and striving and living and dying to voice their concerns about where the culture of our nation was headed.

Forty years or so after the cultural and sexual revolution began, the “teenagers” have won, the silent majority is a minority, and this nation — on an executive level — has become alien ground to me and many others.

This is not just inaugural griping, this is the realization that our nation has finally, officially embraced the post-modern world; that, in addition to media elitists and collegiate intellectuals spreading nihilism, we finally have a U.S. president who embodies such a culture. Propelled into office by voter greed, Barack Obama will now lead the nation that leads the world, using his successful blend of atheistic humanism and political manipulation that make for easy-to-digest sound bytes. The immoralists are no longer only in the ivory towers, they are in the White House, not to mention the courts, the educational systems and the financial industries. And most Americans don’t mind at all or are too busy or distracted to notice.

obama.jpgThe U.S. has unequivocally, unabashedly and electorally embraced a subjective reality where truth is changeable, depending upon how it can serve our pocketbooks and our uninformed consciences.

“Every generation feels the same way, and yet the nation survives,” you may say. But I say our nation is dying and it’s closer to its death throes now than ever before in its history. The United States is 233 years old and it is creaking under the weight of its own arrogance.

“In the end Christ will triumph and the His truth will be vindicated,” you may also say, and I concur with a grateful heart. I thank God for His promises, which I know He will keep. But between now and His triumph could be the end of the great American experiment. Christ never promised the U.S.A. would be around to welcome His victory, and it’s not alarmist to say that our beloved nation may well fall before that glorious day arrives.

Stop. Before you click the “comment” link, stay with me a while longer because here’s where this article takes a surprising turn towards optimism. After two months of pondering what this new presidency and administration will wreak upon unborn babies, legitimate marriage, public education, health care and a bevy of other life-altering issues, I maintain there is opportunity alongside this heartache. In God’s universe, thanks to His mercy and providence, there always is.

The universal struggle between good and evil, between Christ and His enemies has now taken center stage in this nation. For decades most American Catholics have lived relatively comfortably by accepting shades of gray. Little by little the grays became darker as more of the Church’s moral teachings were questioned, ignored and rejected. Now, the gray areas have turned to blackness. It is no longer possible for lukewarm Catholics to remain faithful. The gray areas are gone. American Catholics will either embrace the white light of Truth or accept the darkness.

So where does this leave aliens like me? Totally reliant upon God, and for many of us it will be the first time in our lives. I used to define myself as an American Catholic, but now I realize I am a Catholic in America. The nation I used to depend upon to accept my spiritual composition is gone. No longer does our citizenship agree that our laws are, and should be, based on Judeo-Christian concepts. No longer can a Christian assume his moral beliefs will be given fair representation or even toleration in the public forum.

As aliens, we have an important role to play as keepers of the faith on hostile soil. Here’s our opportunity to get off the fence on every controversial issue that offends God and start pulling our weight as Catholics in America. Many Catholics already are very publicly defending Christ and His Gospel truths. Most aren’t. Are you defending Christ in America? Am I?

This era, just beginning, represents our time in the long history of the Catholic Church to accept suffering, offer prayers and penance, and do battle in the public forum so that the voice of Christ can be heard. It is our turn to live as Catholics who look only to the magisterium of the Church for instruction on true human dignity and authentic social justice.

We will join Catholics from around the world who “lost” their countries long ago — Italians, Greeks, Slavs, Chinese, Russians and others who have already inured themselves to the agonies of living in an atheistic nation, one that they used to love with patriotic fervor but now are estranged from. We will lean on the rich Catholic tradition of the Church Militant and go on living in an alien nation while fortifying ourselves with the Word Made Flesh, He who makes His dwelling among aliens the world over.

Are you up to this challenge? As Americans, we’ve grown undisciplined, flabby and unused to suffering. We can’t bear the pain of unpopularity; how will we bear persecution? And it is coming. With this new administration we have the makings of unprecedented Christian persecutions in our nation that will make martyrs and saints of many who stand up for Truth. You won’t have to be a political activist to have it thrust upon you: parents, clergy, health care providers, teachers, workers of all kinds will find themselves facing moral issues that assault the foundations of the Catholic faith. Which issue will be the one that forces Catholics like you and me to confront how shallow our relationship with Christ has been? Which issue will finally inspire us to make the commitment to “put out into the deep,” whatever the cost?

Blessed Mother Theresa of Calcutta, after visiting our great nation years ago, said she pitied us our “poverty.” She understood the seriousness of the spiritual poverty that the U.S. suffered. We may be on the brink of changing that poverty, one Catholic, one Christian at a time.

The history of the Church is one of suffering and triumph. From that perspective, the Obama presidency could be the beginning of a great renewal of Christianity in America, if each of us lives the faith the way Christ calls us to. So in an important way, this article is not about losing a nation, so much as gaining a deeper relationship with Jesus, the King of all nations. We, who have always assumed that our nation would validate our faith, now find it must be validated only by God.

“[T]he new age has begun; and…much must now pass away,” Gandalf says in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. Let it pass. With prayerful renewal and faithful responses, we can find that God alone will suffice. Then maybe, in small ways that have great power, we can work to bring our beloved nation back to God.

Doreen M. Truesdell, a former newspaper journalist, is a freelance writer and editor. She and her husband, Stephen, live in upstate New York with their four homeschooled children, aged 4 to 13.

From Hindu to Orthodox: The Conversation Continues

2009-01-19T22:57:00.002-05:00

Anjali has created quite a stir in the blogosphere with her post about her conversion to Orthodoxy from Hinduism via Baha'i. She had one person ask her some specifics from a Hindu perspective about the relevance of the resurrection for Christians. Since she took the time to try to explain her point of view in detail, I have dug out the question and the response from the comments section and onto its own post for all to read. Maybe it's time for Anjali to start her own blog?! (Not that I mind her using mine at all but she has plenty of fodder to keep a forum of her own going for quite some time!)

Interesting to read about Anjali's conversion to Orthodox Christianity. As a fellow spiritual traveler, I would like to better understand your statement, "As for Hinduism and other ancient faiths pre-dating Christ - I have not "discarded" them, I believe Christ fulfills them - basically, every way in which Baha'u'llah claims to be a fulfillment, I believe that is already found in Christ and the Christian faith.

How is Christ the fulfilment of the Hindu tradition? As someone born in the Hindu tradition, I still don't get, what is so special about Jesus's resurrection as you experienced it in the Eastern Orthodox Church as different from other Christian sects? Why does it feel different to you from the hundreds of miracles that is commonplace in Indian epics and puranas? Regards.

Dear fellow spiritual traveler,

Well you are definitely right in not seeing it spelled out in this blog post – I actually originally wrote this to respond to Orthodox Christians who were curious about my religious background, so I think I’ve left a lot out with the assumption they already understood it – plus I was trying to make it short, since you can already see how long it is :-)

Well, in the beginning, the resurrection made no difference to me – especially because of all of the miraculous/supernatural phenomena I had heard concerning various Hindu yogis and the Hindu myths as well. That was one of the reasons why I never cared when Christians talked about the resurrection – a) Hinduism had its own miracles; b) why would I care if someone else (Hindu or not) had a miracle anyway, it had no effect on me; c) why would I care about a bodily resurrection anyway, since as Hindu I viewed the body as a source of bondage. The first time I realized Christians wanted to rise from the dead in new bodies, I was revolted by the idea. I thought it sounded like some very primitive fairy tale idea compared to Hindu concepts of the body, birth, and death. In any case, I figured Jesus was an enlightened yogi-type figure or maybe even an avatar, that maybe he was just misunderstood. As a Hindu, I read the Gospels and thought it was about Vedanta. And I know there are Hindu gurus who have written volumes about the Gospels from this perspective.

For these reasons, I didn’t see Jesus as unique, and in some ways, less sophisticated than his Hindu counterparts. In the course of reading Hindu myths, I had grown accustomed to the idea of oral traditions changing, different versions of myths being handed down, of the essentially important message having more to do with symbolic meanings and metaphysical issues, not necessarily the outward details of these stories. I assumed the same had happened with Jesus. And I certainly noticed certain universal themes, the idea of God coming to earth to save his people reminded me of the avatars of Vishnu.

What got me more interested in Jesus was when I realized that we actually have quite a bit written about him with an effort to preserve what historically happened, not just to convey various spiritual messages. Despite what people say about how little we know, we know more about him than the true historical figure of Krishna. And as I began reading more about Judaism and the earliest Christians, I became convinced that these people were genuinely trying their hardest to preserve their sacred scripture without mistake, and that they were intending to preserve the history, not taking the freedom to change details to reveal a new moral story – and not basing everything on mystical experiences and visions either (thought some of that is in there too, of course).

I really overlooked Judaism and Christianity when I explored religions earlier, because they seemed kind of boring to me. Their were some miracles, but for the most part, it was a lot of history, and it didn’t seem as interesting, exotic, or spiritually enlightening (boy was I wrong about that part!) as the myths and writings of other religions. But I now began to really respect the uniqueness of that endeavor, I realized there was something different happening here. I could read these writings and really get a look at historical people in historic places, it was more concretely based in historical reality than, say, the story of Ganesh losing his tusk. Instead of thinking it was just boring, I began to really respect this and get curious. Various other books piqued my interest in the Biblical basis for the Big Bang theory, the archeological evidence supporting the historicity of various Biblical figures, the written documents concerning Jesus himself by non-Christians. I began thinking – well, if Jesus was an avatar or powerful figure like this, maybe I should start looking more deeply at this. Even if Krishna were an avatar too, Jesus seemed much closer in history and more concretely accessible through research. So I kept reading more, trying to understand Jewish beliefs and culture at the time of Jesus, and what his teachings would have meant at the time.

This is where I began to realize that there was a whole story here that was unknown to me as a Hindu. I began to learn about the Judeo-Christian metastory for all of humanity. I used to think that the Old Testament really only concerned Jewish people, just as Hindu creation myths seemed to be so entrenched in India – meaning we hear about the origin of the Ganga, the founding of the caste system, things that are very Indian. I never imagined as a Hindu that all people really originiated in this way, then spread out and lost their Hindu belief system, as that was never a part of our mythology. But in the Old Testament, I found a (proposed) history for all of us – not just the Jews….combined with all the other ideas I was having that I have described above, I felt that if I were to believe any of these stories, this one was the one I trusted the most. The story of creation and the Fall, and the promise to send a Savior – yes, it was similar to Hindu concepts of an avatar, but to me it seemed it was in keeping to what St Paul talks about when he says that people have written in them, innately, a knowledge of God. To me, what the rishis were seeing, as well as the myths of avatars – the myth of this savior type that can be found in various cultures – was the innate seed planted by God within the human soul, for us to be able to recognize our need for Christ. And when Jesus came, unlike many similar figures, he emphasized the crucial importance of his followers traveling to the ends of the earth to bring tidings of his coming so that everyone could be saved, restored to God. As with all things, there is a concrete urgency on the practical, earthly, level - this is all on a very real level, it's not just happening on a mythological level or in some Jungian way, if that makes sense?

I know I’m still not going into enough detail to really iron these thoughts out, but you can see how long this is already getting! The way Eastern Orthodoxy came to be very useful for me – I simply did not understand the way others were describing salvation and sin and justification – the Eastern Orthodox emphasis on theosis was similar to the Hindu idea of Self-realization, further demonstrating to me that the rishis were truly “on to something”, as it were. It just made a lot of sense, whereas the Western perspective seemed really random to me. Also, I didn’t understand how Adam’s fall led to all of us having fallen nature, and I didn’t unerstand how Jesus’ victory spelled victory for the rest of us, until I read “On the Incarnation” by St. Athanasius. If I had just read that book from the start, it would have saved me a lot of confusion. It was also Eastern Orthodoxy that finally made me understand that Christianity was actually very unique in the importance it places on the body, the idea that a human is both body and soul together, not one without the other. I used to think this was backwards, until I realized that the body is way too amazing of a thing to pass off as just a cage – I realized I was actually insulting the work of God by not realizing it’s incredible importance to the state of being a human. I also learned that this was not a primitive belief at all – in fact, it was the opposite – it was very novel compared to the Hindu and Platonic notions that the body and soul were separate, and that the soul was what we truly were, the body just a cage…

I know I am leaving this kind of vague by simply referring to another book, but again, I see this message is getting lengthy. I think to truly address your question, I'd have to give a really solid catechism, actually! In a way, I think your question, as simple as it sounded, really struck at the core of my spiritual journey, and I don’t know how I can write it out briefly or quickly – it would have to encompass all of the books I read, the experiences I had, the thoughts and feelings I mulled through….I wish I could write it more clearly and in greater detail, but that would end up being a book, I think! I’ve been meaning to try to tackle this very thing….but I haven’t really had the time to sit down and do it, and I feel I realize more and more everyday, making it kind of overwhelming to write about it in a way to do it justice…

Holy Moly is Right!

2009-01-17T21:48:00.002-05:00

Anjali emailed me this evening pointing out that her post on Thoughts was linked here. It has generated quite a bit of traffic to this blog but I'm especially thrilled that, more importantly, it has generated a lot of great discussion and commentary about the issues Anjali addressed in her post. I think Anjali is also doing a stellar job at entertaining the questions and comments which have come her way so far.

Tad's Famous! (Well, sort of...)

2009-01-17T19:37:00.002-05:00

Tad has long been a big fan of Generation Orthodox and somehow he got himself a guest spot on their first podcast of the New Year! I'm listening to it as I type so no comments yet but I'm sure it's gonna be awesome!

Meet Our Miriam

2009-01-17T14:26:00.006-05:00

I've been meaning to post here about Miriam since she gets so little discussion. She's such a sweet, easy child that I really don't have any angst over her disabilities which I need to hammer out here...lol (now you know the true mission of this blog for me!). I decided to use the questions Meg answered by Adam as a vehicle for my readership to get to know my eldest child. So here goes:

What is Miriam's specific diagnosis?

Miriam has Trisomy 21 - commonly referred to as Down Syndrome. She was diagnosed at birth.

Tell us about Miriam. How old is she? What's her personality like? What does she love/hate?

Miriam is 13 years old and sweet as can be. We adopted her from Hong Kong (when it was a British holding) when she was almost 5 years old and I was very pregnant with Betsy. The family joke about her origins is that she is our Chinese British National with a Polish last name - all of which means absolutely nothing to her. Miriam is nicknamed "Girly" and she is a girly girl. She loves to play with nails and hair and dolls. Her favorite toys are her little princesses and her crate full of horses. She loves to play soccer, hates basketball. She could sing all day long - especially songs to Jesus - and loves to pretend with playmobiles and her younger brothers. We always say Miriam is the best Christian among us. She is so sincere in her worship and devotion. She has always loved Mary and had a special connection in her heart. She may not understand a lot about theology but somehow I think she understands things about God I will never learn this side of Heaven.

What therapies, diets, special interventions, etc. have you used to help Miriam? Is there any one thing that has been the most helpful for her?

Miriam hasn't required a lot of special therapies. She has had speech off and on and we continue to work on her speech goals at home. She is very hard to understand and has trouble stringing together more than 4 or 5 word sentences. The whole family follows the Feingold Program which removes all artificials and certain preservatives from our diet. We also avoid corn syrup and high fructose corn syrup for Miriam. The diet helps her to focus a bit better. At times we have given her fish oil supplements which also helped her focus a bit I think.

What is the most wonderful thing about Miriam?

Miriam has been our easiest child to parent. She is sweet, compliant, eager to please and willing to try just about anything. When she first came from Hong Kong it was maybe close to a year before we even saw her cry (which, honestly, worried us a bit). Then one day she stood at the top of the steps and cried and screamed bloody murder. I was shocked - until I realized she wasn't really sad, she had suddenly discovered how to get her brothers in trouble...lol...

Miriam is one of our "lifers" here - she's just not going to make it in the great wide world alone and so we have a long time to look forward to Miriam's companionship. I have really enjoyed building our relationship with that in mind and Miriam is developing a wonderful little sense of humor. I think "companion" is the word that describes Miriam best.

What is the most embarrassing moment you've had with Miriam?

Miriam has some embarrassing moments with the typical things - she doesn't know when her nose has boogers and she forgets to close her mouth when she chews, things like that. But I think her most embarrassing moment actually happened with a male friend of mine. She had gone on vacation with our friends Michelle and Dan and their children. On the last day they were trying to get cleaned up and Miriam misplaced her bra. In exasperation she went to Dan and announced, "I can't find my booby thing!" Unfortunately her speech is such that she had to repeat it several times before Dan could understand what she was saying and refer her to Michelle.

How does Miriam's Down Syndrome affect her sibs?

Miriam might be fortunate in that she has sibs with much more annoying disabilities than hers. Compared to her brother, her sibs find her extremely easy to get along with and very pleasant. The little ones don't really notice that there is anything different about her. They play with her and fight with her just like they do with each other. I really like that they are growing up sort of taking people's disabilities for granted. They have been exposed to lots of other people with lots of different disabilities and have learned that there are all types of people in the world, that some of them need more help in life than others and they can be the ones to offer that help from time to time. The older ones have observed that Miriam has a very positive outlook and I think they enjoy that about her. I hope that as life moves along they will also realize they have learned a lot from her.

How have you changed your parenting style to accommodate Miriam's emotional needs?

Well, Miriam hasn't really taxed my parenting skills nearly as much as some of the other children. I am more patient. It just takes her longer to do things and learn things. I spent five years teaching her phonics but when she got it she really took off. I think more than anything I have had to realize that not all kids are this easy. If she were our only one I might be tempted to think I was the best parent in the world (and she would definitely be quite spoiled)...

What is the hardest thing about parenting a child with Down Syndrome? What is the best thing?

I have yet to find a particularly hard thing about parenting Miriam. She does have some typical teen moments these days with the eye rolling and attitude but honestly on her it's just sort of funny. Probably the hardest thing for her is to admit that she needs help. She has trouble letting me know when her cycle has begun and then she gets embarrassed or scared and hides her dirty underwear and pajamas. I think we had a breakthrough the day we both started on the same day and she figured out that even Mom has this problem - since then she's gotten much better at letting me know.

We are fortunate that Miriam doesn't have any of the physical problems that can go along with Down Syndrome. She was born with a healthy heart and spine, her physical development seems normal. Many parents of children with Down Syndrome seem to struggle with the day to day physical problems the most - esp when these kids are infants to toddlers and having one surgery after another. We have never had to deal with that. She was walking and talking and doing all the things a kid should be doing by the time we adopted her.

Not only is Miriam an easy kid, her disability is easy. I can just say to people, "Miriam has Down Syndrome" and suddenly they know exactly what to expect from her. It's so much more complicated with, say, Philip who looks mostly "normal" but whose disability is so complex and can't be summed up in a couple of easily decoded words for people. So if you have to deal with a disability I would say Down Syndrome is a good one. It's so ironic to me that about 90% of babies diagnosed in utero with Down Syndrome are now aborted in this country. I just don't get what is so bad about Down Syndrome that you need to kill a baby who might or might not have it (the tests are often false positives and I don't get the whole killing babies thing no matter what the circumstances). Maybe if they would actually let these babies live they would eventually meet up with older children with Down Syndrome and get a clue.

The best thing has to be Miriam's personality. Occasionally she will balk if I ask her to do something but it doesn't take much to get her to see the bright side of everything. She forces me to stop and smell the roses. I can forget about her in all the busy-ness of the day because she is so content to be in her little corner of the world but the times when I really stop and look into her eyes and see how they smile really bring me to a joyful place. I sit next to her at the dinner table and that's become our time to really relate to one another. I am so blessed to be her mom.

How has parenting Miriam changed you?

Oh boy. Parenting changes everybody and when you have a kid or four who have disabilities that can really change a person. I think Miriam makes me a better person. She keeps me humble, she reminds me to stop and enjoy the simple things.

O Holy One...

2009-01-05T09:51:00.003-05:00

visit and heal our infirmities for your name's sake.

Praying this prayer each morning has helped me to understand the healing power of God. In the charismatic church we did a lot of shenanigans to "get" the Holy Spirit to "come" and "heal". Usually nothing happened, sometimes God in his mercy chose to acknowledge our prideful and ridiculous efforts and heal in spite of us. But whatever we thought was happening, the focus was always on the idea that there was a wound (be it spiritual, physical or pyshcological) in a person, we needed to get God to come to the wound, fix it and then kindly leave.

But as I've meditated on this idea of Christ visiting and healing I realized we had it all wrong. Christ visited the kingdom of darkness specifically for the purpose of healing us enough to lead us to the Kingdom of Light. But his visitation is not a breeze through on His way to WalMart to help some other poor sod find a parking spot. He *visits* our infirmities. He comes in, he settles down for the night, He infuses our infirmities with His power, His mercy, His grace. It is the infusion of Him that heals. And it is a visit only in the sense that this temporal world of iniquity is temporary. We are all visitors here. As visitors, though, we need to deal with the world. We can only do this when infused with Christ within our being.

There are more thoughts I have on this which I'm having trouble getting into words and what I've written I'm sure doesn't do justice to what I'm thinking and, most importantly, beginning to know in my innermost being - that somehow Christ is in me, that He has infused my being with His Being specifically for the purpose of healing this sickness with which I must live for now. This makes much more sense of Christ's suffering and crucifixion - His visitation into our iniquities - His complete infusion of himself into the sickness of humanity - in order to heal and restore at the Resurrection. This can only happen because Christ is the Light. No matter what place he visits, he Is Light and He Brings Light. Am I way off base here?!

A Catechumen's Journey from Hinduism

2008-12-30T08:34:00.005-05:00

This is a very long read but well worth your time. Anjali is our newly illumined catechumen whose baptism video I posted earlier. What has always fascinated me about her is that she grew up as a Hindu and so her journey into Eastern Orthodoxy was quite different from those of us who came to it through the many Western Protestant and Catholic paths. I was surprised to learn as I read this that she had also journeyed through the Baha'i faith. Her insights gained from that experience remind me a lot of how Mormons seem to see themselves as well. I love to be in bible study with Anjali because I find her insights so valuable. Here she has offered this beautiful testimony of how she arrived at Eastern Orthodoxy and allowed me to publish it so all of you can read it too. I hope you find it as fascinating and wonderful as I have! It was originally composed, I think, as a post to an Orthodox forum to which she belongs.

In a nutshell: I was born and raised Hindu, then was Baha’i for 5 years (2002-2007) before becoming Christian and finding the Orthodox church.

How exactly did this happen? Well, as a Hindu, what I learned about other religions were that there are many paths up the same spiritual mountain to reach God. Maybe even the belief that the differences argued about between different religions are like the blind men in a room with an elephant, each feeling a different part and jumping to a different conclusion about what it is - each accurately describing in his own way what one aspect of the elephant was like, but unable to see the whole, and so thinking the others were wrong. So I didn't really care that other religions said different things on certain subjects, I just followed "my" way that I inherited from my family and culture. I believed there was great wisdom in it, and assumed that other religions probably also had great wisdom in them. I became interested in reading about other religions as a hobby - and loved seeing that the core spiritual teachings/messages seemed similar - about love, prayer, detachment, and renunciation of self. It should be noted I wasn't reading about hardcore theology of various religions - I was reading the writings of various spiritual masters, mystical works, mythology, stuff like that. I had no urge to look deeper into this mystery of how there were all these different religions, or of looking more closely at the differences; I thought it was a waste of time, foolish. One thing I didn't realize though, was that that whole blind men and elephant analogy? It assumes that no particular religion truly has an understanding of God - well, I understood that, but it didn't really bother me. It never occurred to me that possibly one of the religions actually sees the whole elephant, rather than only seeing a part. The idea was that it didn't matter - you didn't need to understand the elephant as an elephant to get to God, in fact maybe it was humanly impossible anyway, for people to conceive of these things. It never occurred to me that God might have ever approached us with a very particular way that He wanted us to approach Him, rather my focus was on our imperfect selves trying to reach towards God.

Then I came across the Baha'i Faith - it claimed to reveal the elephant itself, saying that in the past, people were only ready to be exposed to whatever particular part God saw was fit at the time. So all the previous religions were chapters in one book, leading up to this chapter called the Baha'i Faith that reveals the unity of all religions. But not in a mysterious way - it sought to provide distinct proofs for this. This is what finally made me start looking analytically and critically at all the world religions, including the Baha'i Faith, to see how God's web of different religions were really and truly connected. This was key - until I started being more demanding, I was undiscerning in my happiness to just accept all religions as they were, like different flavors of ice cream. I enjoyed what flowed; I ignored what clashed, figuring it was just to be expected, realistically. Different people will see through different lenses. But as a Baha'i, I was told that if I looked really hard, I would see that all the different religions really were one, and furthermore that all of them awaited a Messianic figure whom Baha'is believed to have come in the person of Baha'u'llah in the 19th century, founder of the Baha'i Faith. This fascinated me - and both to better educate myself and also to be able to teach members of other religions about the Baha'i Faith, I started studying.

Now rather than leaving it all up to mystery, I said the Baha'i faith had specific explanations as to how all the religions are different paths to one God, right? This was critical - in the Hindu mindset, I would never had tools/measuring sticks that I expected to actually work in this undertaking, so I would never seriously have undertaken it, or would not have had a way of disproving/testing/evaluating any of these beliefs about religions being essentially equal. At best, I would have prayed like Sri Ramakrishna, who claims that Jesus, Mohammed, and other figures came to him when he prayed, and so he believed whomever you prayed to, God would come to you in that form - he experienced that, so he believed that, never thinking maybe it was a delusion. As Orthodox monks say, you can have delusions, or you can even have demons that approach you as angels of light! Anyway, back to the story. The Baha'i Faith stated that all the different religions have the same, unchanging, essential, ethical and spiritual teachings about God and soul and our purpose, but have different social teachings about externals, or even about things like marriage - these changing teachings are meant to suit the particular people/culture/time to whom the religion is brought by a Prophet/Manifestation. However, sometimes even the unchanging spiritual teachings are lost or corrupted over time, and that also explains for some of the differences. We could only tell what was right by measuring it against Baha'u'llah's explanation of all that was true and false, for he had come to restore truth. This starts a nice and neat process of circular thinking for determining what was true and what was false in all the various world religions, to make them all match the Baha'i Faith. It can be used to explain away anything, to make night appear to be day - in fact, Baha'u'llah even says that you mustn't question the Prophet/Manifestation, that you should even accept that day is night if he tells you that. Then he also says we must be independent investigators of truth, listening to no one - all these contradictions, but everyone denies they are contradictory, believing all these paradoxes are true in some mysterious spiritually wise way.

Well. So there I was, studying along, when I hit on just one event that could not be explained away by Baha'i cleverness. The Resurrection. Here at last, was the only and most effective measuring stick of truth, to sort through the claims of religions unity. The Baha'i Faith, Islam, and Christianity clearly taught different things about who Jesus was. Well, the Baha'i Faith claimed to be able to reconcile these differences, but it was too contrary to all evidence. Christians claimed that Jesus was God, was the Son of God, and all this stuff about a trinity, which really I had no idea what they were talking about. They claimed this resurrection, which made no sense to me - not that I didn't believe Jesus couldn't rise from the dead if he were God, but I had no idea what possible relevance that could have, since I didn't know/understand about the Fall, sin, the Final Resurrection - I assumed these were all myths, with no more relevant deep meaning than a fairy tale, except maybe metaphorical spiritual meanings. I wasn't even interested, because I never understood what importance that event should have to me. No Christian had ever explained that to me - they'd just say crazy stuff like, "I've been washed in the blood of the Lamb, and now I'm saved! Jesus died for your sins! Don't you want to be saved?" then they'd paint portraits of Hell - it all made zero sense to me, just as though someone said, "My red balloon popped and then candy canes fell out of the sky, your rabbit is winking at me, doesn't all this make you want to buy a new Nissan??" I am not exaggerating - this nutshell "Gospel message" makes absolutely no sense to a non-Christian, no real meaningful sense, anyway. You just have no idea what they are so excited about - so Jesus rose from the dead, big whoop, so what? Good for him, but....so what? He healed people...he was loving, kind, innocent, born of a virgin, sinless.... so what? I didn't even grow up with same concept of sin as Christians do, so "sinless" vs. "sinner" didn't mean the same things to me as to a Christian anyway. In other words, we lacked the same language/doctrine/context, so the whole message was being lost in translation. The same things happen when Americans decide they are interested in Hindu things - I am always suspicious when I hear people throwing around words like karma and dharma, etc. Do they really understand what they are talking about? It also makes me suspicious that I here more Americans talking about tantric sex and other exotic things, whereas the Indian Hindus I knew were just taught to be devoted to God and pray and go to the temple. Sex was a taboo topic, maybe too taboo. Anyway, the point of this tangent is, I always felt very misunderstood by Christians who had these wild orgy type images of what it must be like for my family to be Hindu, and I felt almost equally misunderstood by Westerners who rejected their Christian upbringing to come to Hinduism thinking along similar lines.

Getting back to the story: Since I didn't have a firm grasp on what Christians were saying, it was easy to let other religions explain it to me. Hindus told me that Christ was an avatar just like any other Hindu avatar, or that Christ was actually a great yogi who had achieved self-realization. Indeed, when I read the Gospels as Hindu, that’s exactly how it came across when I was left to interpret things myself (so much for sola scriptura). The Baha'i Faith stated that Jesus was a Prophet/Manifestation, just like Mohammed and Baha'u'llah, Moses, Abraham, Zoroaster, Krishna, Buddha, Adam (I knew nothing about the Old Testament, so I had no idea that the specific way in which these figures were being likened to each other was highly dubious). He was born of a virgin, he was killed by crucifixion, but he was not physically resurrected. Some Baha'is are shocked to learn that it is in Baha'i scripture that there was NO physical resurrection or appearance to the disciples at all - most Baha'is think nothing is said about this subject other than if it happened, it wasn't significant anyway, what mattered was a "spiritual" resurrection of the dejected disciples, who after 3 days regained their faith and bravery and went out to teach the Gospel. I found it in scripture - NO physical resurrection. Mohammed taught that Jesus was not even crucified - how could a prophet of God be given a shameful death? No, he wasn't crucified at all, God took him up to heaven instead, and someone else was crucified in his place and made to appear to be him, tricking all who viewed it. And yet, if they were tricked to think it was Jesus, why are they being chastised by God for believing it was Jesus? That question is not answered, and yet this frightening Jesus is waiting till the end times to return and break all the crosses, judge all the Christians for believing in it, and to proclaim Islam as the true religion after all. In fact, Mohammed teaches that Jesus was a Muslim. Okay, this was getting too bizarre even for me, with my ability to rationalize any contradiction thanks to Baha’i mental gymnastics skills. Baha'u'llah said that Mohammed meant that Jesus' spirit could never be crucified, only his body - but I really felt that Mohammed meant exactly what he adamantly said.... so that made the first crack in my faith in Baha'u'llah's teachings. Also, the Baha'i Faith sought to explain the true meaning of the trinity, whereas Mohammed ranted about the trinity concept being a huge mistake - and described a false understanding of it to boot. So this stuff wasn't adding up.

To make it even more shocking, I started reading about evidence for Christ's resurrection - not only did I feel there was more evidence supporting this event than we have for other events which we take for granted as being historically true, from reading the Gospels and knowing the horrible deaths these apostles underwent, it became very clear to me that they really believed in a physical resurrection, and they were dying for something more than this “be nice to each other” message. The Baha'i explanation was that superstitions arose about the nature of Christ and his resurrection, whether it was shortly after Christ's death or as later belief, which caused people to re-interpret these historical happenings, to give a false interpretation of the Bible. Paul himself is quoted by Baha'is as evidence against the physical resurrection of Jesus or anybody else for that matter. I've even heard a Baha'i quote the story about doubting Thomas as evidence against the resurrection - pointing out that though Thomas asked to place his fingers into he wounds, when Christ appeared and offered, it doesn't state that Thomas actually DID.... the implication being that Jesus was not truly physically present and that had Thomas tried, he wouldn’t have managed to touch the wounds - guess Jesus just outsmarted him! Probably the only reason he “tricked” him was because (as with the rest of Christ's ministry, as described by the Baha'i faith) miracles were necessary for these backwards people. But later prophets, like Mohammed and Baha'u'llah, didn't give miracles, not because they didn't have power, but because people were supposed to be more mature than that. :-P

Anyway, the trouble is, as some Baha'is were forgetting, according to Baha'i scripture, there was no physical resurrection or reappearance of the material form of Jesus at all whatsoever. So the real, official Baha’I explanation is simply that the resurrection only means that the disciples regained their faith and courage after 3 days to go out and proclaim the Gospel. It was thus a “spiritual resurrection”. The Gospel (according to Baha'is) was simply Christ's spiritual teachings of how to lead a good life and to love God, and that he himself was a Prophet/Manifestation, so better listen up. And any tales of any other type of resurrection or Gospel were the result of later misinterpretations. However, Baha'u'llah states that the Bible is not corrupted; rather it is wrongly interpreted (unlike Muslims, who believe the Bible text has been corrupted itself - another difference between Baha'is and Muslims, despite Baha’i claims that both religions are one). So basically, the Gospels are supposed to be full of allegory, including the story of the resurrection. Here's the thing though, there are glitches. For example, Baha’is believe the virgin birth actually happened (Muslims believe this too). The healing/feeding miracles – Baha’is say some happened, but they should always be understood in a spiritual sense, since that is what is important, not these material things, of course! (Muslims just believe Jesus was granted the ability of miracles by God). The resurrection of Christ though – this miracle is flat out denied. Why is this the only miracle that is taboo to both Muslims and Baha'is? I wanted to know - why would all the other miracles be okay to believe, but not the resurrection? Also, if the Baha'i teaching that the New Testament is mainly allegory and spiritual teachings, not literal at all.... well, why did it read so matter-of-factly? It doesn't read like a mystical, symbolic work at all - it is very direct, simple, and to the point. I simply couldn’t believe that it was not intended to mean exactly what it said - and that the earliest martyrs did not believe in this resurrection - in fact, based on my research, the resurrection seemed to have been the most important part of the story, not relegated to the back-burner behind Christ's spiritual teachings, the way Baha'is would have it. If it were a false belief, what kind of God would corrupt the teachings so quickly? What would be the point? And back again to the question - what is the big deal about this resurrection? Why is everyone seeming fixated on this one crucial point that can't be agreed on, that simply must be denied by both Muslim and Baha'i scripture? I mean, he's already being born from a virgin, so what if he also rose from the dead?

This is what really made me start to feel suspicious that maybe the Gospel was more than the good news that this great Prophet named Jesus had come along to tell everyone to love each other and to love God. Not to belittle that message, but there was more to the story. I didn't know what that whole message was, but I decided I ought to find out what all this ranting and raving about the resurrection was all about and why I should care.

By this point I had already seen all the holes poked into the Baha'i Faith, so I officially resigned from the Baha'i Faith on July 7, 2007, and became a "Christian" by default. I know that is really weird, but that's exactly how it happened! I guess I labeled myself Christian, but I didn't know really what the Gospel was about - just that there was this guy Jesus who seemed to have been born of a virgin and died and then lived, and everyone was excited about it. It wasn't a religious experience or even a true understanding, so I don't know if I was really a Christian. I do know that I don't think any of this would have happened if a Christian friend of mine hadn't prayed for me at that time - seemed like I was lost in my happy web of delusion until after he prayed for me and it all came crashing down. So that gave me faith in this religion too. Basically, for the past year since resigning from the Baha’i Faith, I've just been studying. I wanted to find out what the original teachings of the apostles were, and what Jesus really meant to say to us, since this entire journey had made me keenly aware of the issue of corrupted teachings versus true teachings. And lo and behold, it turns out there were tons of books written by scholars ever since that event happened, trying to sort all of this out. I was glad the books were there, but I was even more confused – if this Resurrection was supposed to be so important, how could people have lost the original message of what it meant and what Jesus really wanted us to believe, what the apostles really taught? Why were people today still looking to uncover the original church of Biblical times (“based on the latest research!”) – I mean, how in the heck could they have lost that information if it was so important? How could they go around getting everyone (myself included) all riled up about worried about this, and then not be able to tell us what we needed to know about it?

At the time, I only had access to Protestant books, and they certainly helped some, but they still left me feeling that a lot was unexplained or random or didn't make sense. I didn't really start to understand the "Good News" until I was led to the Orthodox Church just this past April, on Good Friday. I was loaned the book "The Orthodox Church", and the rest was pretty much history - it convinced me that not only was the original faith of the apostles uncorrupted, that in that same line of reasoning/faith, the ancient church was still alive - and almost as proof, that book finally made the Gospel start to make sense to me! I definitely believed in the importance of the Holy Tradition - I never understood the sola scriptura thing I was reading in the Protestant Books - they didn't seem to realize there were large gaps in what they considered to be simple teachings/knowledge, because they were all interpreting according to some mysterious code that I hadn't been exposed to, but claiming it was just all "written in the Bible". Having read the New Testament first as a Hindu and then as a Baha'i, I knew firsthand that there are all kinds of different ways to sincerely misinterpret scripture. So I was grateful to finally come to a church that had the holy tradition guided by the Holy Spirit to explain things. Also, to know what we don't know too. My experience with the Baha'i faith and investigation into corruptions, etc., had built up my faith in what these earliest Christian people taught.... and I didn't understand why Protestants couldn't have this same faith? They lacked faith, and called it true faith. I didn't believe their idea that the church was corrupted until the first Protestants showed up.... it reminded me of the Baha'i way of thinking, a lack of faith, a hole which is later stopped up with creations/hopes/interpretations of one's own, all under the false pretense of "true knowledge" and "faith", when really they seem to be weaving a web of their own liking, without even realizing it. An unconscious denial of the power of the Holy Spirit, to either think the Holy Spirit has checked out, is too mysterious to know His workings, or to reduce His workings to only babbling, despite Jesus' promise to send the Holy Spirit who would lead to all truth, these seem like strange beliefs for people who really have faith in Christ and the Bible to believe.

Another thing I noticed that the few times I went to a Protestant non-denominational church prior to finding the Orthodox church, while I liked the sermons and I learned to like some of the songs, it distinctly felt like a memorial service for Christ. Well, he did say, "do this in remembrance of me", so that's exactly what it felt like...and the communion seemed really random. Like, well, this was the eccentric thing that Christ wanted us to do, so let's do it! I don't think the members of the church thought it was eccentric, but really - with no other meaning than the symbolic one, it just all seemed kind or strange to me - like some antiquated practice that withstood the test of time, the bread and wine eventually transformed to a cracker the size of a cheezit and a shot of grape juice, the same way the gladiatorial displays in the Roman coliseum have maybe been transformed into modern day football games in stadiums. I am not saying this at all to laugh about it or to make fun - I wasn't amused, I was just mystified, but willing to go along with it and figuring this was just the way it was. At the Orthodox church, it wasn't like a memorial service for someone who had passed on to the next world, it was worship - worship the way Hindus worship, truly believing that God was present, singing to God, not about him, not singing to ourselves, not singing for fellowship, not worshiping his idea, but actually presenting worship as a sacrifice within the presence of God. - and not being casual in his presence, but having a sense of holiness and respect - not because people wanted to be goody-two-shoes, but because if you actually believe that God is present, you'll be alert, rather than coming up with excuses about how God shouldn't care about this or that or the other, but naturally wanting to do your best in the presence of God out of love and respect and acknowledgment of his holiness. I don't know...I guess I felt like, as much as I liked the Protestant church (the minister was great!), I felt they were talking about something, about learning about something, whereas at the Orthodox Church actually had it present. I also instinctively felt that the Orthodox Church housed the wisdom of elders, whereas the Protestant church housed the rebellious self-confidence of a teenager. Also, whereas when I was growing up, I felt that Western Christians just looked down on Hindus as being completely wrong and ignorant, I felt the Orthodox church revealed the true way of worship, the true reaching out to God, that Hindus had been trying to do. It makes me think of what Paul said when he was in...Athens? That there was this idol of the unknown God, that they Greeks already tried to worship, well Paul was here to finally teach them who this God was, in the same way I feel that Christianity has brought to light what Hindus have tried to do from times before the Christ the Light came to earth, if that makes much sense? So maybe Hindus do in the dark what Christians do in the light? While fumbling and some wrong perceptions can be experienced, learned, and propagate even more of such wrong teachings in the dark, once you turn the light on, you realize - wait a minute! I thought I knew how this whole room was set up and how everything worked, but in reality, now I see it is different! Some is the same, but now I can go about things the way they were intended. Now, I no longer hold an elephant's trunk thinking it's a snake and once in a while wondering what else there is to it - now the lights are on, and I can see that wow! There is an elephant in the room! Such is the differing result of humans striving for truth in our spiritual darkness, vs. what happens when God himself bringing us the truth with his light.

While I think the stereotypical attitude of some Christians about Hinduism being totally corrupt and demonic and awful is unrealistic, I have, now that I am beginning to finally understand some of Christianity (thanks again, to the Orthodox church), I am starting to see troubling things that I had been blind to before. I came across a series of articles, which point out some fundamental differences which may have seemed irrelevant to me before becoming Christian, harmless when I first became Christian by default, and now are starting to seem troubling in a very real way. I don't know if I agree 100% with the articles, but they bring up some good points.

Right now, I am still overwhelmed by trying to learn and participate as much as I can as a catechumen - it's all very recent, after I attended the EO church for the first time on Good Friday, I became a catechumen on Pentecost - so it's all happening very fast. But eventually, I would like to write about Hinduism and the Baha'i Faith from an Orthodox perspective. Particularly the Baha'i Faith - I have even kept the core books of the Baha'i faith, some which are hard to come by actually, so that in the future I'll have them as reference. If you're at all interested in discussing more about this, the youngest of the world's religions, a messianic one where the founder claims to be the Return of Christ, I'm planning on adding a thread about it in the OC group "Battling Christian cults".

I feel very lucky to have been brought to the Orthodox Church. I feel lucky that it all happened so quickly once I became Christian, involving little effort on my own part, whereas others have searched many years as Christians before finding it. I feel convinced that it was definitely beyond my doing - I'm still amazed by it all. It has really made me believe in the power of sincere prayer in bringing others to Christ. Though I don’t feel ready to adequately bring anyone else to Christ right now, I firmly believe in praying for that to happen, praying really does have an effect that no amount of talking/reasoning can do. I would never have come on my own I think, despite all the arguments I encountered - I really believe it was because my friend prayed for me, and God brought it about. Until then, I was very happily lost in illusions with a nimble way to deflect anything a Christian might have said to me, to stay steeped in my beautiful cocoon, and a very hip one, at that - one that seemed very attractive on many sides. God had to wake me up to make me realize that beauty and wishful thinking are not the same as truth, which is even more beautiful (and terrible!) than someone lost in his or her illusions can even begin to imagine. There is so much wrapped up inside of Christianity that you really don't suspect from the little flyers people hand out on street corners:-) At least that's how it seems now that I feel I am being guided in the Orthodox way.

I know this was a really long-winded and winding story, but I hope that reading it will remind you again to pray for others to come to Christ, pray that God will lift them above the many, many layers of illusion and denial that keep them from Him, even those who might sincerely think that they do believe in Him when they really don’t. That’s the state that I was in when I was Hindu and Baha’i. I was more interested in my concepts of Him than in what He wanted me to believe. Also I hope that this account may have brought some points to mind that will help you become an even better teacher of the Gospel when you are approaching someone who comes from a completely non-Christian background. To not only bring them to Christ in a meaningful way, but to also bring them to the Orthodox church, because I truly believe that Eastern Orthodox Christianity is so incredible and can have a much stronger impact on a person (particularly of Eastern background perhaps?), whereas the Western approach to Christianity may just leave them wanting and wondering and thirsting still. This is a big generalization, but I worry that the Protestant or Catholic way of spreading the Gospel can do more harm than good, driving people away from Christ, whereas the Orthodox can bring healing and joy and understanding, drawing people towards Christ. Of course what do I know, I may be totally (or at least partially) wrong about this, but it’s a thought worth considering.

Life with Adam

2008-12-27T13:15:00.003-05:00

I am so excited to start a new series of posts. As I looked around at all my friends I realized I fraternize with some really neat ladies who have some wonderful talents and I wanted to figure out how to get their wisdom out there to share with my blogosphere. So I have started a series of posts which consists of email interviews with my friends all over the map. I send them an email with interview questions, they respond with the questions answered and I post the interviews here for all to enjoy. Now my only remaining challenge for this project remains naming this form of blogging - bloggerviews? interblogging? I don't know - you tell me!

In the meantime I am thrilled to begin the series with an email interview I conducted with my friend Megan. Megan has a son, Adam, who has autism. I have so much to learn from Megan about parenting a child with autism. She is so much more patient and creative with Adam's behaviors than I have ever been with Philip's. She is one of those naturally smiley, slightly off-beat personalities that comes along once in a while as a rare treasure. You can learn more about Megan by visiting her very funny blog. In the meantime, enjoy her interview!

What is Adam's specific diagnosis (if he has one) and when was he diagnosed?

Adam's diagnosis is PDD-NOS. He was first diagnosed at Kennedy-Krieger when he was 3 1/2. He had another diagnosis of PDD-NOS recently when he turned 6.

Tell us about Adam. How old is he? What's his personality like? What does he love/hate?

Adam is a very sweet 6 1/2 year old boy. He is kind and obedient. He has excellent self-control and is never rebellious in a naughty way, but he does struggle with the obsessive-compulsive tendencies that autistic children have. He is intelligent, being blessed with a nearly genius-level short-term memory. However, he scores in the mental-retardation level in areas of language. He is verbal - very verbal sometimes, but converting thoughts into words can be a real challenge for him.

Adam was an easygoing baby, but became more tense when he got to the age when he needed to be learning language. He loves order, rainbows, maps, computers, and any Nintendo games featuring Mario. He hates disorder, any light touch (like someone playing with his hair, rubbing his back, etc,) seeing his peers acting disobedient, and milk.

What therapies, diets, special interventions, etc. have you used to help Adam? Is there any one thing that has been the most helpful for him?

Well, as far as therapies, he was in Infants & Toddlers from age 1 1/2 to 3. Then he was in ECI until he was almost 5. From age 5-6 he was receiving services from Community-Based Services. In all of those instances, he received speech and occupational therapy. Essentially, whenever the county would offer a service, we'd accept. But the only service we've gone out of our way to get for him is behavioral. He has been seeing a couple of truly wonderful behaviorists at Kennedy-Krieger for about 2 1/2 years. I would say that the help we've received from Kennedy-Krieger is the most helpful intervention Adam has had. The behaviorists have focused on helping us as parents learn how to handle Adam, rather than just helping Adam themselves and then sending him home with us. That has been invaluable.

As far as diet, we have tried variations of the gfcf diet, but have seen little effect. Around age 4 he began refusing dairy, and we followed his lead there. It's one thing when a kid refuses to drink his milk, but when he also refuses ice cream, you start to think there may be a legitimate issue there.

Also, we have had a longtime suspicion, for various reasons, that Adam is hypoglycemic. It is very hard to prove hypoglycemia in children, and especially in Adam who is nearly impossible to take blood from (not only does he throw a fit, having no comprehension of why he is being poked with needles, but he has unusually thick blood that does NOT want to leave his body.) But we have seen that keeping him on a hypoglycemic diet does wonders for him.

Beyond that, we have educated ourselves on ABA and other therapies/parenting philosophies etc for autistic kids, and use what seems helpful. Most helpful: visual aides given and ideas suggested by the Kennedy Krieger folks and his ECI teacher. Least helpful: putting him in a private preschool with a teacher who was not educated in handling PDD kids was a much bigger mistake than we could have imagined.

What is the most wonderful thing about Adam?

His laugh. Adam has a hearty laugh that comes from deep down in his belly. When something really tickles his funny bone, there is no suppressing that laugh, which is sometimes a problem, but it always makes me smile.

What is the most embarrassing moment you've had with Adam?

Hah, this is a question that all mothers of autistic kids love to answer! There are almost too many to choose just one, and of course more than a few take place in church. A few months ago, he approached some teenagers at my dad's church who happen to be African-American and enthusiastically said: "You're so brown! I love brown people! I just LOVE brown people! I want to be brown!"

How does Adam's autism affect his sibs?

Adam has an 8-year old sister and a 2-year old brother. Both of his siblings are "typical" and are very verbal kids, so it is wonderful for Adam to be sandwiched between those two. We always say that Adam's best therapy is his siblings! As far as how Adam affects them, for Michael there isn't much effect. Michael, being only 2, doesn't register anything unusual about his brother. They are good playmates, and in many ways are well-matched to play together, developmentally right now. I assume that in a few years Michael will begin to find Adam to be childish and difficult, but for now, they are on the same level in many ways.

It is harder on Hannah. She is kind of isolated in her role in our family - oldest child with no one to play with much of the time. She is old enough to be embarrassed by Adam's antics in public and in front of her friends - when he went through the phase where he took his pants off all the time, regardless of where he was at the time. At the same time, Hannah is very mature for her age, which of course is in great part due to Adam. She has developed patience, humility, obedience, and a sense of responsibility and charity far beyond her years.

Have you changed your parenting style to accommodate Adam's emotional needs?

ABSOLUTELY. Our first child, Hannah, was such an easygoing, eager-to-please child, and we mistakenly took credit for how well-disciplined she was. Well, we did everything you are supposed to do - be consistent, read aloud daily, limit TV time, time-outs rather than spankings, whole-grain bread, etc. - and it worked! And when you begin congratulating yourself and seeing child development in that way, you also allow yourself to assume that poorly-behaved kids must be the result of poor parenting. Or at least, we assumed that, with our pristine, precocious child. Boy, were we in for a shock when that sort of parenting didn't work at all with Adam. Adam simply cannot be disciplined in the way a typical child can be. This was especially true when he was two and three years old, and we had no idea what we were up against or how to handle him. Scolding was met with piercing screams, and his vocabulary was so poor that he simply did not understand what we wanted. It's rough. It's rough because there is a generally accepted way to discipline typical children, and it is to a degree pretty intuitive. But with autistic children, they are as different as snowflakes, and their needs are couldn't be more diverse. No one can tell you how to raise your autistic child - handbooks can't help, and each answer tends to be frustratingly counter-intuitive.

What is the hardest thing about parenting a child with autism? What is the best thing?

The isolation. I really like the analogy that parents of special-needs kids tend to use about the vacation - that having a special-needs child is like planning to take a trip to Paris and you somehow end up in Sweden instead. All of your friends have been going to Paris, and Paris sounds really great. You have planned to go to Paris for awhile and you're all set to go. You've packed for Paris and the next thing you know, you're in Sweden. Now, Sweden's nice. It's very pretty, and you have a nice time, but it's not what you expected, and it's not what you planned for. You have to scramble to rearrange your plans, and you do your best to enjoy Sweden, despite your disappointment that you've missed seeing Paris. When you get home, no one is interested in hearing about your trip to Sweden - they all just want to share stories and pictures of Paris. Still, you are glad you got to see Sweden; you wouldn't exchange that experience for anything. In fact, you think your friends are missing out on something good, when they overlook Sweden as a good vacation spot. Still, you can't shake the feeling that you would have liked to go to Paris.

Having a special-needs child is terribly isolating. When Adam was born, I had a group of mommy friends with babies the same age as him. And as they grew, it caused me so much pain to see mine not developing normally as theirs was. I distanced myself from them - not wanting to see their "normal" kids. My friends couldn't do anything to help. Just their normalcy - the fact that they were not touched by autism - was a source of pain to me.

Initially, there were family members who thought we were wrong - who argued with us about Adam, saying we were imagining a problem that was not there, or that he was simply not being disciplined to control himself well enough.

At the same time, Dave and I had an aversion to the idea of finding a support group or connecting to other parents of autistic kids. Every autistic kid is so different, there really is no common ground - no reason to meet someone and forge a friendship on the basis of a common diagnosis, if our experiences are in no way alike. And what would we do? Mope? No thanks.

So there really is a feeling of isolation, which, though it has lessened with time, as we have learned to handle Adam, and as Adam has matured and become easier to handle, is still painful.

How has parenting Adam changed you?

Well, parenting changes anyone, of course. But the most obvious way that parenting Adam in particular has changed me is that I have learned not to judge other parents. I've been in enough situations in public where Adam was out of control, and must have appeared to be a terribly bratty child, when in fact he was having an autism-fueled meltdown, that I have learned that nothing is necessarily as it appears to be. And that mom with the screaming bratty kids might not be a bad mom - she might be struggling with autism in her own family. That mother feeding her kids junk food or losing her cool and yelling at her misbehaving kids, or doing any number of socially unacceptable things - she might just be at her wits end and trying to cope with an autistic child the best she can with whatever resources she has at the moment. There have been so many times that I was desperate for some help, and all I got was nasty looks, that I've learned to offer help to those moms that I see struggling with their kids rather than judge them. It's been a hard lesson to learn, but I am thankful to Adam for all he has taught me.

Thanks so much for your insights Meg!! Now, please, run to Meg's blog and check it out!

As I formulated my questions for Megan I realized that this particular line of questioning would be really interesting to send to all my moms of kids with special needs (I run a support group for moms who homeschool their kids with special needs) and I found myself wondering...How would *I* answer these questions? How would my answers be different for each child in our family with special needs? So hopefully you'll be seeing these questions a lot more with responses from all those other resourceful moms out there! In the meantime, I am anxiously awaiting responses from other areas as well - such as our church's choir director and our newly illumined catechumen. I'm so excited!

Newly Illumined Anjali!

2008-12-15T14:52:00.004-05:00

Our catechumen, Anjali, was baptized yesterday morning. As you can see, we don't have a church of our own, we rent a room from a local Catholic school and it was quite a task to fill up the....er...baptismal pool! It was a beautiful service and Anjali was just radiant. I will have lots more pics and even an interview with Anjali coming soon!! Welcome Anjali! Many years to you!

Artificial Sex - The Whole Story

2008-12-11T08:45:00.006-05:00

Warning: This post contains explicit information and frank discussion.

Some time ago, I posted this teaser and promised more on this subject. It is constantly on my mind, especially now as I currently have a baby to coo at and an active adoption discussion going on.

If you watch Discovery Health on cable at all, you will quickly be inundated with various baby-making alternatives to good, old fashioned sex. In vitro, artificial insemination, surrogacy, gay and lesbian parenting - everyone wants to have a baby of their "own" but nobody wants to eat the fruit born by these...no, not trees....weeds (and I'm using that term loosely - anyone ever see Little Shop of Horrors? - I'm thinking more along the lines of that sort of vegetative beast). The most interesting thing to me is the church's silence on this issue. The Roman Catholics have the most to say publicly and for them I offer kudos but even they seem to merely whisper about these topics while screaming from the mountain tops about healthy marital relations, contraception and abortion. Abortion, you say? What does abortion have to do with any of this? Well, stick with me folks. This is plainly a Pro-Life issue in the broadest sense of the term. Anyone who cares about life at any stage of development should care about this issue.

I don't think any Christian would argue that God's original plan for conception, pregnancy and birth is one of beauty, wonder and awe. He clearly created a man and a woman to fit together - physically, spiritually and emotionally. The act of marital intercourse is designed for couples to be able to explore and enjoy nothing less than the inner life of the Trinity. Sex is more than a means to the end of producing a baby. It is the gift given to us by our Creator to share in the act of Creation. It is messy and wonderful and, most importantly, an act of love performed together, with the man and the woman equally involved in the process of creating life out of an act of love. Anything short of this, strips the spiritual from the clinical and demeans God's plan for marriage.

For Tad and I adoption was always an open discussion. I grew up with a spot in my heart that told me I would adopt children - with special needs. Tad grew up in a family formed by 3 homemade children and 2 adopted children. In his mind, that's how families grow - you birth some, you adopt some. Life was hard for us as a young, married couple. I was cycling through bi-polar phases at a rapid rate and in no shape to be a parent. Because of severe menstrual problems before we were married, I had been on a birth control pill to control my menstrual cycle and my moods, not to control conception. I didn't understand at that point the abortive effect of contraception. Nor did I understand the damage "the pill" can do to a woman's reproductive cycle.

As I began to heal emotionally and mentally we began to look forward to our first child. I went off the birth control pill and we began what would be an almost three year attempt to conceive. We took Natural Family Planning classes and were the only people I ever knew to fail them. My cycles were so off the charts that our instructor told me I was charting wrong when, in fact, she needed a better education in the issues surrounding infertility. When our foray into NFP produced no results except frustration, we ventured to a fertility "specialist" who tested us for such things as sperm motilitiy, count and viability and for me, hormone levels and the cycle of ovulation. At the end of it all we were told both of us had issues which would prevent natural conception. Diagnosis: Infertility.

We tried Clomid - an oral fertility drug - to regulate ovulation in my cycle. After about 3 months of that drug, it had only served to throw me back into an unhealthy mental state. At this point, we chose adoption. Neither of us had planned for infertility. We had some grieving to do. While adoption was in our thinking, we had also hoped to be able to conceive children together. But, at the point when fertility treatments would have taken a turn towards the weird, we chose to build our family a different way. For whatever reason, God blessed us with a pregnancy when we clinched our decision to adopt. About 4 weeks after we brought home our first baby, JT, we found out I was 6 weeks pregnant with Ben.

All this to say that, yes, we do understand what infertile couples experience. I am not preaching from the side of inexperience, although the fruits of these questionable procedures speak for themselves no matter what your background.

Let's look at some of these techniques. The first course of action for an infertile couple is usually to try some regulating medications, such as the Clomid I took for a period of time. The idea here is that the body is hormonally out of whack due to inbalance of various body chemicals and the medication should kick start it all back into balance. This is a standard medical means of solving a problem. Diabetics are given insulin to control their blood sugar , we have thyroid medications, anti-depressants - all sorts of chemical solutions provided for us to help balance the body's natural functioning. It's when this fails to work that things get a little crazy.

After a few months' trial of these medications, couples are presented with the option of artificial insemination. For this procedure, the man's sperm is collected, "washed", separated and then implanted in the woman's uterus or fallopian tubes by a doctor. This is generally done if the man's sperm has a poor motility or a low count and, while still active and viable, may not be able to survive the trip through the woman's reproductive system. Most consider this as harmless as the medication route since it is a simple procedure, still uses the sperm and egg from both members of the couple and keeps the conception of a child within the mother's womb. How do those folks suppose, however, that the sperm is collected? The man has two choices - he can masturbate at home or he can do so in the back room of his fertility clinic.

When Tad and I were undergoing our fertility treatments we were completely unprepared for this part. Of course a sperm sample needed to be produced and I, for one, hadn't really thought through how that would happen. For the testing, we were sent to a room way in the back of the clinic where we found a treatment chair, a collection cup and a collection of pornographic magazines. No matter how you look at it, sperm are always required for conception to occur and, outside of intercourse, this can only be obtained through masturbation. Since masturbation itself poses no physical health threat, the threat here is purely spiritual and emotional. I'll leave that to your own judgement but I can say that being placed in a back room, with a rack of pornography, for a sex act performed by my husband which did not require my presence, left me to dip my toes into rather murky ethical waters. That feeling was enhanced when we walked up the hallway bearing our used collection cup and were met halfway by a nurse, who grabbed the cup from Tad's hands, tsk-tsked us for not leaving it in the treatment room and quickly ushered us out a back door into the parking lot.

So now the sperm sample has been collected and it needs to make it's way into the woman's uterus in order for fertilization to occur. I have never witnessed a doctor perform this procedure on a woman but I have seen a farmer perform it on a cow - up close and personal - and that just isn't pretty. At this point, the loving act of intercourse is replaced by a doctor and some sort of medical instrument. Essentially, the doctor assumes the role of the man in the act of conception, up to our ankles now in rather murky waters.

When this procedure fails to produce a viable embryo, the next step is in vitro fertilization which takes on many subtle variations. The word in vitro refers to the fact that fertilization is taking place outside of the womb, generally in a petri dish or on some sort of live culture - thus, the colloquialism "test tube babies". In the best case scenarios the sperm are collected from the husband, the eggs from the wife, they are combined using a couple of various techniques then reinserted as an embryo (fertilized egg - in other words, a viable human being) into either the woman's fallopian tubes or directly into the uterus. The exception to this would be Gamete Intrafallopian Transfer (known as GIFT) in which case the egg and the sperm are placed side by side in the fallopian tubes and allowed to fertilize themselves. I shudder at the thought of a human being being created in a shallow glass dish on a sterile laboratory table. Stripping the spiritual from the clinical to create life puts us on par with a base, animal, instinctive method of simply maintaining our population. The act of love has been morphed into a clinical procedure. Where are we to go from here?

As with artificial insemination, a third party - the doctor - is now involved in the act of procreation between a husband and wife. The waters muddy even more when the sperm or egg of the baby-seeking couple are provided by a donor. Egg and sperm donations are collected by the same means from third party donors and frozen until they can be used by the couple. Continuing to descend down this slippery slope, this looks to me an awful lot like adultery. The woman now has an egg and/or a sperm from a donor who is not her husband within her womb. In this case, of course, the child who grows from one of these embryos will have the physical traits of the donors, not the couple having the baby. If a woman's egg is combined with a donor's sperm the resultant child will have the same physical characteristics as if the wife had had intercourse with another man. At this point, I'm thinking...why not adopt?

Instead of adoption, however, a couple whose eggs and sperm are plenty good enough to conceive, but for whom the woman's body is not equipped to carry a baby, this whole procedure can be performed with a surrogate uterus. Egg and sperm are harvested from the husband and the wife, fertilized in vitro and then planted within the body of another woman who carries and delivers the baby and hands the child over after birth.

But wait, it gets even more complicated than this. While a normally fertile couple would conceive a single baby - perhaps against high odds twins or even triplets - multiple births are more normative with in vitro procedures. This is because the survival rate of the embryos is fairly low, so several embryos - as many as 6 or 7 - will be implanted in the woman with the hopes of maybe 1 or 2 surviving. If you agree that life begins at conception - that a fertilized egg, or embryo - is fully a human being - then you have to face what is happening with these tiniest of babies. They are being created - outside of the marital embrace, outside of the woman's body even - and then given little chance to live. In fact, extra embryos are intentionally created knowing that several of them will in all probability die before birth. Life is created in order to be sacrificed for the life that may or may not survive. The more morally conscious parents who use this procedure for conception, then, will insist on only creating as many embryos as they are willing to parent and will implant all embryos that are created. This is simply moral smoke and mirrors. If we pump enough smoke into our line of vision we can avoid the truth. Whether or not a couple is willing to parent triplets does not make it any more or less true that three embyros are being formed rather than one in the hopes that one will survive.

The descent into full darkness happens when couples want to create as many embryos as possible but only are willing to implant a few at a time. The remaining embryos are frozen, to be thawed and implanted if and only if the first round of in vitro fails to produce a viable fetus. If round one works and the happy couple now has babe in arms, those remaining embryos become a problem for them. Embryo storage facilities charge money to keep the embryos frozen until the couple may or may not desire to try again down the line (and give birth to a twin 2 or 3 years later?!). Many couples are not willing to pay these storage fees. Those couples have their embryos thawed and disposed of. This is a clinical abortion - the destruction of an embryo. Again, though, there are those who fashion themselves more morally conscious and so choose to place their embryos for adoption. Embryo adoption has become the pro-life solution to this rather convoluted problem. An adoptive couple is chosen by the embryo's "parents" (generally the term used in adoption would be birthparent but in this case the parents have not given birth to the baby) and the embryo is adopted according to procedures similar for regular adoptions. The adoptive couple then has the embryo implanted in the wife's body and gives birth to the child/ren with all the rights and responsibilities of an adoptive couple.

As a radical pro-lifer I have considered embryo adoption simply to do my part in allowing a frozen embryo to enter into the fullness of life. However, this brings up the same objections mentioned earlier to surrogacy and the use of donor sperm/egg. Another moral dilemma arises when we consider if giving an unborn baby the chance at life is balanced by the fact that doing so only perpetuates the creation of even more embryos to be dealt with later as couples use the option for a moral crutch.

Let's be brutally honest about what motivates this whole issue. I have had many friends tell me that once diagnosed with infertility, they were immediately referred for some sort of treatment. One couple I know even had the doctor on the phone with their insurance company before they were even given the opportunity to answer whether or not they'd like to pursue this route. That couple left quickly and eventually became adoptive parents. The doctors in this business stand to lose their livelihoods if people suddenly recognize the moral darkness woven through their line of business. Baby-making is literally their business and they don't intend to be out of work anytime soon.

For the couple, the motivation to go through all this is the opportunity to have a child of their "own". Those who have considered adoption gravitate toward infertility treatments out of a fear of the unknown. They may lose a child in process, they may adopt a child with needs they hadn't anticipated, and on and on and on. I have heard couples say that going through the hormone shots and all the other shenanigans necessary to maintain an in vitro pregnancy was the highest act of love they could give their spouse. Sadly, these couples are masking fear and selfishness with a convoluted idea of love. God gave us his model of love - marriage and the marriage bed. He also gave us a model for adoption should the sickness of humanity prevent child-bearing from the marriage bed. If we are not able to conceive in spite of what we "want" then perhaps God, in his mercy, has another plan for us and our family. In order to avoid the grief of a closed womb we choose to bypass it through the swamp of infertility options. It only muddies our shoes and dirties our hands and souls. Unfortunately our me-based culture has glorified those who make these decisions by granting them fame, fortune and bragging rights. John and Kate are probably wonderful people, but setting them up as an example to the nation of self-less parenting is misleading and dangerous.

I am thankful that God has seen fit to grant us children both through adoption and through the fruits of my own marital embrace. I am calling those who will never conceive to a higher calling than I myself have experienced but I challenge you to consider letting God stay in control of the baby-making business.

Smart Moves

2008-11-15T18:43:00.002-05:00

My potty book is currently a book titled Smart Moves: Why Learning is Not all in Your Head by Carla Hannaford. I picked up the book at a homeschool curriculum fair this past Summer because in its center are exercises designed to improve concentration which I wanted to use with the children. I really didn't mean to read the whole book until I decided maybe I should read at least as far as the exercises lest I miss some vital piece of explanation about how to do them. I am so glad I decided to jump in. It's been a bit hairy as the writing is rather technical and reading it in dribs and drabs (so to speak..teehee) has caused me to go back and read and re-read just to keep focused but it is convicting me that some long-held supicions of mine are actually true.

The author is discussing how brain function is related to movement. She puts forth the importance of movement in order for healthy brain development to happen at all stages of life - from pre-natal to death (I just read the assertion that elderly people who dance or play an instrument are much less prone to Alzheimer's and dimentia). This sounds reasonable and perhaps even obvious but when you begin to look at how our culture views the link between motion and learning we can see how well-accepted methods just don't work to optimize brain power.

How often do we tell children to essentially sit down and shut up? We want the feet of their chairs on the floor, their legs facing forward, their pencil held correctly, their bodies erect with no tapping, humming, knee jerking or gum chewing. When reading a book, they should be reading silently without whispering or moving fingers along the words. And here's the one that gets me - I don't know how many times I've heard the stories of motion-charged children being denied recess if they couldn't sit still. The author of this books presents that none of us can learn without motion because it is the motion, the use of muscles, that solidifies the information in our brains and builds up all those nifty little chemicals and connections necessary for true mastery of a subject. Even just talking about a subject exercises muscles in the jaw and face (and hands for the more animated among us) which helps to fix the subject in our brains.

It's all very fascinating to me and is turning on its head some of the ways we do things around here with our homeschooling subjects. This is definitely a good read - particularly for anyone parenting a struggling learner.

I'm blogging, I'm blogging!

2008-11-07T15:28:00.003-05:00

Compliments of Ted Rall.

An Accidental Prayer

2008-11-07T14:40:00.002-05:00

Tad and I have been starting out our mornings with the morning prayers in the back of the Orthodox Study Bible so one of the intercessions I've been praying every morning goes like this:

Save, O Lord, and have mercy upon all world rulers, on our president, and on all our civil authorities. Speak peace and blessing in their hearts for Your holy church and for all Your peoples, in order that we may live a calm and peaceful life, in all godliness and dignity.

The president part I get and I always throw in those who seek the office of the president (now changed to president-elect) but I always sort of thought the civil authorities prayer was a bit out of place in this nation so I figured I was praying for folks in other nations who don't enjoy the freedoms we do here.

Then about two weeks ago someone from the animal investigation unit of the Sheriff's department showed up at my doorstep. He sat in his car in the driveway for a long time where he was quickly noticed by a lot of inquisitive children peering through the bay window at him. Finally, he approached the house rather sheepishly and explained that someone had called and complained about our chickens. I had (sort of) checked the zoning laws on that so I knew we could legally have the chickens but I didn't know the exact parameters of the law. Turns out there is a limit on the number of domestic pets we can have - to include the chickens. This fellow - a civil authority - was very kind, generous and certainly helped me retain my dignity in what could have been a sticky situation.

It wasn't until a day or two ago that I grasped the role of this prayer in that situation. I do have to admit to a certain amount of fear that someone will dislike our extremely counter-cultural lifestyle and send CPS here for some bogus charge. In fact, we have a contingency plan in place for just such an occurrence. Even in a country where we do have a lot of freedoms there are always those who will seek to encroach upon them. And to whom will they turn when they do? The civil authorities. I have nothing to fear, however, if my prayers truly avail the solace of authorities into whom God speaks "peace and blessing into their hearts for [His] holy church and for all [His] peoples." My friend from the sheriff's office may have been sent precisely to teach me that lesson.

Fun Photo Meme

2008-10-25T21:01:00.003-04:00

Deb has a photo meme she's continuing on her blog. The rules are: Find the fourth folder in your photos file and post the fourth photo listed in that folder. Lucky me, I got a picture of chickens hanging out on our lawnmower....could have been worse, actually... I do have pictures of the 4 and 5 yo's making letters out of their naked bodies (if they both bend over and put their butt cheeks together they make an adorable "X" - and make Daddy wish he'd gotten them in the tubby a bit faster).

Duckernacle

2008-10-24T10:42:00.002-04:00

Since our small mission congregation meets in rented space we occasionally have need to travel to other churches for Divine Liturgy when our own room is not available for our use. I can't remember for the life of me where we were visiting, then, when about three quarters of the way through liturgy I saw out of the corner of my eye what I swore was a duck suspended over the altar. Because of the iconostasis and our location in relation to it, I never actually got a good look at this flying anomaly but stored the information away in the recesses of my addled mind for questioning Fr. Greg on it later.

A few weeks ago it worked its way to the front of my brain and expressed itself as "What's up with the duck?"

Turns out it's not actually a duck but a dove (well...huh...that makes a little more sense) and some churches actually use it is a vessel for the consecrated elements in exchange for a more traditional tabernacle. Not to make light of anyone's tabernacle but my initial response was to find this idea a bit, well, tacky.

My understanding of the tabernacle (admittedly a primarily Roman Catholic one) is that it represents the holy womb of the Theotokos - containing within it the full humanity and full divinity of Christ as expressed in His holy Eucharist. So if we take the Eucharist out of the "womb" and place it within the Holy Spirit (is the dove not a representation of the person of the Trinity known to us as the Holy Spirit?) isn't this some kind of convoluted twist on the filioque clause? Instead of the Holy Spirit proceeding from the Father and the Son, He now *contains* the Son. That doesn't seem right either.

So unless someone can set me aright I will continue to think of this phenomenon as an oddity I've termed the duckernacle.

Want a treat?!

2008-10-10T21:59:00.003-04:00

I just took a peek at the blog of Magda, another Orthodox blogger whose blog I *love*, and realized that she's had her baby. This little one is too adorable to keep to myself! Thanks for sharing him with us Magda!

Holy Observations

2008-10-10T19:58:00.002-04:00

JT and Ben are my two eldest sons (well, developmentally anyway) and the two most enamored with Orthodoxy because they are at a great age to be able to make some serious observations and draw their own conclusions. I've had many a delightful conversation with them regarding our exodus from the CEC and entry into Eastern Orthodoxy. Yesterday we were discussing the altar arrangement. Ben commented that he feels like the altar is a much more personal and accessible place than it ever was for him in the CEC. I noted that this was an interesting observation since many on the outside would think the opposite to which he replied, "Yes, I know, because of the iconostasis. I know that it doesn't make sense because the people can't really even see what goes on but somehow it just seems a lot more personal to me." At that point we teased him a bit because he does serve on the altar now so he gets "good seats...er...standing spot".

I agree with Ben and expecially cherish all the times the priest comes into our midst during the processions. In fact, I've noticed the 5 year old, John Michael, practically sitting on his hands when the priest comes by to avoid reaching out and touching him. I encouraged him to go ahead and touch the priest's vestments. If there is an urge so strong in him to touch the holy, to be part of the service of the Divine Liturgy, then I want him to feel, to smell, to kiss, to experience. How else will his 5 year old self ever come to love standing up for 2 hours of chanting and praying?

When I discussed it with Tad later he pointed out what we were all feeling intuitively, but had neglected to notice consicously - that the Orthodox priest stands with the people before the altar. In the CEC, modeled after the RC church, the priests gathered on the opposite side of the altar from the people. During the Eucharistic Liturgy this took on almost a feeling of a judge standing behind his bench, facing the people, ready to meet out judgement. In fact, Tad commented that, as a priest, he struggled to face the people throughout the liturgy. He felt almost as if he were some sort of director of a play trying to get his actors to perform for the Holy Spirit. With the priest facing the altar with us we all focus in the same direction. If it is anyone from whom we seek attention during the liturgy, it is God Himself, not the priest. All present, including the priest, present ourselves as a sacrifice to God, each on equal footing with the other.

It almost makes me weep to think of this. Something within me stands with John in wanting to reach out, to touch, to kiss, to experience the holy things of God for myself, unhindered by the priest's directorial assent.

Theophany

2008-10-10T00:57:00.002-04:00

I've heard the question posed many times as to why Jesus needed to be baptized. In all my years of Christianity, just now I stumbled across the only answer that has made sense summed up in these two paragraphs:

It is certainly the case that holy water is holy water - and yet when Christ entered the waters of the Jordan - we are not told that John prayed a blessing over the water. None was necessary. Christ is who He is, and the waters are what they are (and they are more than what many think the waters to be). The icon of the Theophany reveals the Jordan to be Hades itself, the chaos of darkness into which we had plunged ourselves. Christ enters the waters just as at the Cross He entered Hades. In the waters He “crushed the heads of the dragons” (quoting the psalm noted in the prayer of blessing), just as in Hades He crushed that old serpent, the enemy of man.

At Christ’s Baptism there is a Theophany, a revealing of God, but there is also an Epiphany, a revealing of the world in its greater meaning. Every tree, every rock, every word and action - all things have their meaning in relationship to God - not as things-in-themselves. And it is only as they are handled as having their meaning in relationship to God that they will be handled rightly. The earth itself bears the scars of man’s declaration of ordinariness. It is not a word of blessing but a curse.

I pulled this directly out of this post by one of my favorite Orthodox bloggers which I think everyone should read. The post is lengthy and I am still working my own way through it, but Fr. Stephen has a way of saying things so concisely that I think he cuts right through our preconceived notions and into the heart of every matter he discusses.

I Wonder What the Martyrs Would Think

2008-10-07T09:38:00.004-04:00

A priest friend of ours sends out Saints Lives posts a few times a week as he has the time I guess. This was today's post:
The Martyrs Sergius and Bacchus in Syria were appointed to high positions in the army by the emperor Maximian (284-305), who did not know that they were Christians. Envious people informed Maximian that his two trusted counselors did not honor the pagan gods. This was considered to be a crime against the state.

The emperor, wanting to convince himself of the truth of the accusation, ordered Sergius and Bacchus to offer sacrifice to the idols, but they replied that they honored the One God and worshiped only Him.

Maximian commanded that the martyrs be stripped of the insignia of military rank (their belts, gold pendants, and rings), and then dressed them in feminine clothing. They were led through the city with an iron chains around their necks, and the people mocked them. Then he summoned Sergius and Bacchus to him again and in a friendly manner advised them not to be swayed by Christian fables, but to return to the Roman gods. The saints refuted the emperor's words, and demonstrated the folly of worshiping the pagan gods.

The emperor commanded that they be sent to the governor of the eastern part of Syria , Antiochus, a fierce hater of Christians. Antiochus had received his position with the help of Sergius and Bacchus. "My fathers and benefactors!" he said. "Have pity on yourselves, and also on me. I do not want to condemn my benefactors to cruel tortures." The holy martyrs replied, "For us life is Christ, and to die is gain." The enraged Antiochus ordered Bacchus to be mercilessly beaten, and the holy martyr surrendered his soul to the Lord. They shod Sergius with iron sandals with nails in their soles and sent him to another city, where he was beheaded with the sword.

As I read this, I was thinking how God placed these two men in high military/government positions to bring glory to His kingdom. There was no backing down for these guys and no hiding or waffling their faith. They had obviously earned the respect of their superiors in the difficult realm of politics (although that didn't stop those superiors from persecuting them...reluctantly...oh, sorry guys, I think you're really great but I'm gonna have to chop off your heads anyway, bummer). Then I was thinking, I wonder what those same martyrs think of our American "Christian" politicians. Just how transparent and committed are they when their lives *aren't* on the line? Our Christianity must look almost unrecognizable to the martyrs who died for their faith under persecutions such as wild animals and beheadings. We often talk in this nation how Christians are placed by God into positions of power but sometimes I have to wonder, are those politicians serving in the spirit of Sergius and Bacchus or Antiochus and Maximian?

Three In One - Finally!

2008-09-27T11:33:00.002-04:00

I finally have the pictures from Tali's Baptism for your viewing pleasure. I loved this ceremony. She was baptized, chrismated and communed for the first time - three sacraments received all in one day. Absolutely beautiful! (This is my first attempt at a photobucket slideshow. I'm afraid the captions didn't work out...)

Why women use the bathroom in pairs...

2008-09-26T19:50:00.002-04:00

Someone sent me this looong ago, I read it, laughed hysterically then promptly deleted it and never saw it again. Finally today a good friend thought I needed to read it - thanks so much Clemmy! I am posting it here so that I can always go back and read it when I'm having one of "those" days. If you've already seen it, well, sorry. I'm posting it anyway.

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, ti ny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made con tact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're ce rtain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing fro m your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!

I haven't laughed this hard since....

2008-09-06T15:00:00.002-04:00

I discovered The Sneeze. While link- clicking on random blogs I found Cake Wrecks and I just have to share it with you. The author of Cake Wrecks also reminded me of this blog which I found long ago and had forgotten. Get ready for the hilarity!

Hey Ms. Morecraft Get your Submission off My Politics!

2008-09-04T15:21:00.002-04:00

McCain's recent choice of Sarah Palin has booted him forward solidly into the heart of Americans. Sure, there are many who disagree with her politics or are scratching their heads over her lack of credentials but when push comes to shove I think what we Americans want is somebody we can trust and McCain, in a stroke of pure genius, pulled this energetic mother of five from an almost mythical land seemingly out of the proverbial magic hat. If nothing else, the Republican ticket now has our Attention.

On one of my many yahoo groups, somebody posted this today. It didn't take far into this missive to get my hackles up. This is exactly the sort of poor guilt-mongering exegesis that I was able to wipe cleanly off my feet on the way out the door of the ICCEC. Honestly, by the time we walked out of the CEC for good I felt if I ever heard the word submission again I would run screaming to the nearest bar. Until, that is, I read this article by Frederica Mathewes-Green and began to get a proper, Orthodox perspective of the scriptures with which I'd been beaten over the soul for the previous ten years. Anastasia's post on Orthodox priesthood also helped me realize that the suppositions about submission upon which I had based my supposedly Christian response to the men in my life were all out of whack.

I am solidly grooving with those critics of Sarah Palin who wonder how in the world is she going to get it all done and still be The Mom. I am all in favor of Mom-dom as a woman's first priority. However, who the heck am I to judge this one?! There are many who look at me and wonder how I get it all done - many, I'm sure, who come to the conclusion that I must be neglecting someone along the way. If God has gifted Sarah Palin for this position then so be it. I am not one to throw scriptures at her out of context and outside of church tradition. Perhaps we will be seeing a lot of media footage of our Vice President shuttling from place to place with a 5 year old son in tow. Who's to say she can't take her kids to work? I don't know how she's gonna do it and of course the jury isn't out yet as to who our next president will be so it may all be simply idle speculation. But for me this election isn't about the Issues (although there are several issues that are near and dear to my heart), it's about putting into office the sort of human being who will honor God in all of his/her decisions. Now, that is the heart of the matter and what I've read of Sarah Palin, she's the best thing going....

Artificial Sex

2008-08-31T18:58:00.003-04:00

Why not just call it what it is? Then maybe it won't sound so great. The joke used to be, "Well, I have 2 siblings so my folks only had sex 3 times, right?" Welcome to the 21st century folks! Now we can have all the kids we want with no sex and all the sex we want with no kids...more on this later, it's one of my favorite soapboxes (I'll give you a hint - it has everything to do with the three words "what we want").

Who is this kid?!

2008-08-27T15:29:00.002-04:00

I've been writing about our struggles with Philip and Ruth and thought it was time to sound off our latest great success. JT is our eldest son (younger than only Miriam who is much younger developmentally) and he came to us at 2 months of age. He was a ball of frenetic energy even at that young age - bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down...for the next 11 years. By the time he was 4 or so we were at wit's end with his energy level and mood swings and that's when we discovered the Feingold program. That helped him for years - particularly the removal of corn syrup and high fructose corn syrup from his diet. As he got a bit older we found that even a small amount of corn syrup would cause screaming, raging fits. He would beat himself on the head, scream, foam at the mouth and tell us over and over again that we should just kill him now. It was bad. Very bad.

It evened out for a time and then grew worse again. About 3 years ago we started discussing meds and finally went that route in addition to following the Feingold program strictly. He eventually worked his way up to 100mg of Strattera a day - a liberal adult dosage for a 9 year old. The Strattera helped tremendously but we found that it was a delicate balance. If he went without it for even a couple of hours his old behaviors and moods would return.

JT's pediatrician was willing to prescribe the medication but urged us to find a good counselor as well. It took about a year of calling around, hemming, hawing and then finally deciding we just can't live on pins and needles anymore before we bit the bullet and traveled 40 minutes away to a fantastic (but pricey) counselor. For about a year and a half the counselor worked with JT - and with us - to get him to feel like part of the family, to get in touch with the fact that he was detached, lonely and angry. Early on JT was diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder (in his case caused by an emotionally distant birthmother during pregnancy). His moods would get better and then worse...some days much worse. One day I went into his bedroom to find him sitting on his bed with a rope around his neck. After that, any time he got angry and stormed off I fretted about going to look for him, afraid of what I would find. Somehow, even through all of his trials and the many, many battles, JT has had my heart tightly strapped to his. I have never had to struggle to love him or show him my love and his behavior was slowly killing both of us.

But day by day JT has been emerging from the chaos within him. Changing churches was an important first step. Then this past summer he saw a dream realized. He has always wanted to play travel soccer but was never permitted to because of Tad's ministry schedule. With the family schedule freed up quite a bit he was allowed to try out for the team - but didn't make it. He was invited by the coach to come to a practice after which he was asked to practice regularly with the team and play with the team as a guest. He didn't have his dream handed to him. He's had to work his butt off to get there. Every practice he has to go out there and prove that he can be a member of the team. And it's been the best thing for him ever. Now he's on the soccer field 6 or 7 days a week and keeping his eye on his goal of becoming a professional ball player.

With the help of his counselor he's been able to realize that he is an important part of the family and he does belong here. He's been willing to let his parents be in charge of his life. He's learned to trust, to open up and to relax. Two and a half weeks ago he took his last dose of medication. He's been without it ever since. Every day he is able to try new foods, moving into the second stage of the Feingold program which most kids reach after just 6 weeks - he is now reaching after 8 years.

And the beauty of it is that even with all of these helps lifting he is doing better than ever. I don't know how many times the past few days I've asked myself, "Who *is* this kid?!" Yesterday he played basketball with me and his sibs - all of us against him and he won 10-8. But, more importantly, he *enjoyed* the game. I've noticed him pulling his younger brothers into his lap and playing with them or just snuggling. He was on John Michael's soccer field last week trying to coach him from the sidelines. Even Betsy and Miriam have been the recipients of his recent beneficence. It's funny sometimes to watch. He really wants to engage with his siblings now but he's never really done it before without all the venom and fear so his attempts are awkward and sometimes strange but oh so wonderful for this momma's heart! He's even begun to thank me for little things I do for him - unprompted! He's smiling a lot more and trying to maintain eye contact when he talks with others. Situations which at one point would have caused a week's worth of angst he now blows off quickly and is able to move on. Every morning I pray for my children...Lord have mercy on JT....and lately I've simply been thanking God for his mercy, for if this isn't His mercy on JT then I don't know mercy looks like. God, in His great mercy (for He is good and loves mankind!) has seen fit to watch over JT and heal his deeply troubled heart. Miracles do still happen, folks!

For He is good and loves mankind...

2008-08-20T10:36:00.002-04:00

I just noticed last night how many times this phrase turns up in Orthodox prayers. Do you think the church fathers are trying to tell us something?!

What we see...Part I

2008-08-19T16:09:00.004-04:00

Today I got a comment from Gina which read in part:

In future posts, please write about how those of us who might encounter children and parents like yours at church, in stores, etc., can understand what we see.

I don't really know how to answer that. I don't understand what I see when I look at my children and explaining it to others is even more difficult and frustrating. Just this past Sunday yet another person turned to me and said, "I don't understand. I just can't see Ruth doing anything that bad - she's so sweet." The comment was made because the adults were having a meeting, the children were playing in the gym and Ruth was sitting in a chair in the corner. I think she thought I had put Ruth in time out in the chair. In reality, Ruth had been so inappropriate ( in small barely perceptible to others but significant to Ruth ways) all morning that I did not want her playing with the other children out of my sight. So I asked her to stay in the room where the adults were. She sat herself in the chair in the corner, stared off into space and did not move the entire time, even when I tried to get her attention so that she could come sit next to me. Nope, not bad, just weird - and, trust me, it gets much weirder than that if we let those small inappropriate behaviors go on unfettered.

So, sorry Gina, I can't directly answer your question. But I did figure I could give some pointers on maybe what to do or not do that would put families like ours and those who share their lives with us, at ease a bit. So here is the first installment of my advice to others.

Please don't....

...argue or comment about how we treat our children. Chances are, even if discipline seems too harsh or firm for an infraction, the behaviors are targeted behaviors that are part of a broader behavior plan. On the flip side, we may choose not to exact any consequences even when the behavior seems out of control if that particular behavior is not currently being targeted. I'll give you an example.

Philip is having a lot of trouble with poor sportsmanship. It is part of his disability to want to win at everything and place blame when things don't go his way (autism is a very self-focused condition). He will cry, yell or sometimes just mutter under his breath. He will pout and throw small tantrums. He will blame others for his mistakes or accuse others of cheating. At these times, our 11 yo son looks very much like a 3 year old which isn't so good for someone who desperately wants to fit in with his peers. It is usually his brothers who take the brunt of this. We put a plan into effect to help him with this behavior which was important to us because Philip does desperately want to make friends with his peers. Sports is a great way to level the intellectual and social playing field and nobody wants to play with a poor sport. His "friends" were beginning to get frustrated with him.

So, our goals for this particular behavior plan are to:

1. "Normalize" Philip's sports-playing behavior as much as possible to help him create bonds with other boys his age.

2. Help him improve his behavior on his own so that he can play in all sorts of "sports" settings unsupervised by his parents (who wants to take Mom everywhere?!).

Here is the plan we implemented to help with this area:

1. We defined a sport as any physical activity with another person (or even on the computer). So basketball, soccer, football, hide and seek, foosball, Sprint car racing computer game, swimming in the neighbor's pool, etc are all sports and fall under this plan.

2. We define poor sportsmanship as crying, pouting, arguing, not following others' directions or rules, insisting on his own rules (which he always makes to his advantage), leaving the game as soon as he appears to be losing, blaming others for his mistakes, accusing others of making mistakes they did not make, calling others' a cheater.

3. Philip is reminded every time he begins the sport that: a) This is a sport b) There will be consequences for poor sportsmanship c) We review the definition of poor sportsmanship.

4. At the time we started this Philip, Ben and JT were taking tennis lessons with our neighbor who plays tennis competitively and all were really enjoying the lessons. The consequence for poor sportsmanship in any "sport" was to lose a tennis lesson.

5. Since Tad and I are trying to reduce the amount of time Philip needs to be supervised in group activities, we commissioned JT and Ben as our eyes and ears. They are to tell us the good, the bad and the ugly so that we can handle Philip's behavior appropriately. (And they do tell us all of the above - they are just as quick to give a good report as a bad one.)

The plan is working well. In fact, it was working remarkably well until Philip made the mistake of giving Ben what-for at a tennis lesson. Apparently neither his instructor (our neighbor) nor our neighbor's girlfriend witnessed this behavior but Ben did and he reported it to me honestly. For this, Philip lost his tennis lesson the next week. We knew our plan was working when Philip had a good cry and pout about losing the lesson, then went about the business of proving to me that he could have good sportsmanship as he interacted throughout the week with the neighborhood children. He still had to serve his consequences.

When Philip didn't show up for the lesson and our neighbor's girlfriend heard the reasoning (unfortunately I was having a baby that day) she also gave Ben what-for. She accused Ben of tattling on Philip and informed him in no uncertain terms that he should have some sympathy for his brother because his brother has disabilities and that Ben should not be trying to get him in trouble all the time. She was not aware of our behavior plan, she was very rude to Ben and she underestimated Philip's abilities (it is specifically because he has disabilities that we are trying to help him overcome them to some extent - his disabilities do not give him free reign to act like a weenie-whiner.) In the process, JT and Ben expressed that they no longer wanted to take tennis lessons if they were going to be criticized for playing their part in Philip's behavior plan. So the tennis lessons have ceased - very sad indeed and came about only because someone did not understand Philip's behavioral goals and criticized our parenting of him.

So....in light of this example I can ask you to...

Please do...

....ask us how you can help with our child's current behavioral goals. That question will go a long way and you may have insights into the plan that will help us tremendously. Then I know that I can trust that you understand that you aren't seeing the whole picture and that I can give you a part to play in the behavioral plan, or even hear out suggestions about how to improve the plan.

Parenting these children is a very complicated process. We have a whole team of people involved in their care which includes various doctors, counselors, therapists, parents, friends, grandparents. I am thankful to Gina for bringing up this question and I have long been wondering how to address these questions for the many who love our family and our children and want to interact more freely. I hope this post has been helpful - it is almost impossible to share the depth and complexity of our kids' issues in any way but to invite you to come and immerse yourselves in our home life - so I feel it may fall short. May the Lord have mercy on me as I continue this series and attempt to educate those who desire to share their love with us and become part of our team.

He Said he loves me!

2008-08-13T21:06:00.000-04:00

I was in the kitchen the other day when Philip ran through and asked if he could go to the neighbors' to play. "Sure," I said. He happily ran out the door and shouted over his shoulder, "I love you Mom!" I stopped what I was doing and looked directly at him. "What did you say?" "I said I love you Mom."

He's never said that to me before. Well, he has but I had to ask him to stop years ago because he would only say it when he was being blatantly manipulative. But this was different. It was a spontaneous expression of his pleasure at being allowed to be just like the other boys for just a moment. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Philip was 2 years and 4 months old when he came to us from Korea. Being an international adoption, it was a long and tedious process to get him here. He had been identified as a child with special needs from the get-go and we were told that besides a cleft lip and palate, he also had a host of other physical issues. He had been extremely delayed in his gross and fine motor function and there was some question about whether he would ever be able to run, play, or keep up with the crowd. He was completely non-verbal which concerned me. Three times before we agreed to bring him home, I asked (a complicated process in itself) if there were cognitive delays and three times I was told unequivocally no. So we were quite prepared to deal with a toddler who may have a life-time of physical challenges to handle. We were not prepared for the child who actually came off that plane.

Philip's walking was very shaky when he got here. He was escorted off the airplane in a stroller since he was not able to walk more than a couple of steps without stumbling over his own feet. He has very poor muscle tone and looked...well, floppy. That, in fact, is the way medical personnel refer to his tone - but this was the part we expected. He was not able to communicate with us at all. Besides the language barrier, he was non-verbal and had never spoken any words, neither Korean nor English. He would simply point and whine for anything that he wanted but he couldn't even seem to figure out what he wanted. He had never been fed anything but formula and he was malnourished.

As the weeks, months, years progressed we realized we had a much larger project on our hands than we had ever anticipated. Philip could not make eye contact with anybody, he had a lot of perseverative behaviors, he threw constant temper tantrums and he remained unable to communicate with the spoken word. He could not follow basic directions and he did not know how to relate to others - he seemed to be in a world of his own and deeply resented those of us who could not crawl into that world and anticipate his needs. To say he was not cognitively delayed was either a blatant lie or gross malpractice.

We have since come to understand a lot more about Philip. He has mild mental retardation, Pervasive Developmental Disorder (I hate this diagnosis - obviously he has pervasive developmental delays - the diagnosis tells us nothing - except that doctors don't like to call autism when they see it), mixed expressive-receptive language disorder (he has trouble understanding and expressing words), dyscalcula and possibly undiagnosed OCD, and ADD. I, for one, did not sign up for this and I believe God knew that had we heard the word Autism before we adopted Philip we probably would have cut the whole thing off before it started. But God wanted us to learn a few things.

The battle has been long, tedious and often marked with bitterness to help Philip get to a place where he is as "normalized" as possible. Now at age 11 he functions about at the level of a 5 or 6 year old yet, since he cannot interpret social cues, he thinks he is functioning on par with his peers. Ironically enough, he is too high functioning to realize how low functioning he is. He is basically a happy child, oblivious to the frustrations he causes to those around him (someday maybe I'll offer my review of The Curious Incident of The Dog In The Night).

The key to what success we have gained in getting Philip to where he can relate to others a bit better has been diet, particularly yogurt, which his father faithfully makes for him and serves to him each day at breakfast. As long as Philip has his yogurt each morning he is able to make good eye contact, keep his perseverations and obsessive behaviors to a minimum and relate better to others in general. In fact, many are surprised to hear that he has autism since, as long as he follows his diet, he does not exhibit many of the classic signs. But we know. We know all too well because we relate to him moment by moment - he is never far from my side and I know his every quirk. I can predict his thoughts and anticipate his responses. His rigidity in thought and emotion are still classic markers of his many underlying problems. So when he turned to me and said just this once, "I love you Mom" I knew I had to grab a hold of those words, the look on his face, the whole wonderfulness of it all and hide it away in my heart. It may be many more years before I hear it again.

The Damage Done

2008-08-06T22:52:00.003-04:00

Ruth will be 8 in December. Last month marked her 6th year with us and she is starting to make progress. She was born to a 13 year old mother who had been raped at the age of 12 and was sent to live in a foster home. That baby tried to mother her baby for a full year before Ruth was taken from her and placed with our adoption agency for another 6 months before coming to us. I recently unearthed her placement pictures. She was crying and stiff. She was the most unhappy child I ever met. She cried almost constantly for months and then gradually it was less and less each day. Then she turned off completely for years - just drifted away within herself. I felt I would drown if I looked too deeply into her eyes, her nothingness was unbearable.

Slowly, gradually, she is climbing out of her interior chaos. Last month we met with our counselor (thank God for this man!) and we were discussing some really odd behaviors we'd been observing in her. He took notes as we talked and then he sat and looked over his notes and thought and said, "This is a very chaotic person. But at least she is expressing her chaos. What we are seeing is expressive chaos." He made up that term on the spot and he was pleased with the progress. He was pleased that the chaos within her was finally finding expression outside of her. Therapists are odd folk but I allow myself to be carried into his enthusiasm lest I lose heart completely.

Today as we met with our counselor again we talked about how to go about the business of enjoying Ruth's company. Yes, this is an intentional task that requires strategy and planning. We are often asked about our adopted children "Can you love them the same?" And the answer for us with a couple of our children is "No." The bond to our homemade children is instantaneous. It begins at the first inkling of life which is usually indicated by a faint pink line. We then have the next 9 months to fall quickly, madly in love with the life within. Then for me the experience of labor and delivery solidifies that love relationship. I see my labors as a joint effort between me, God and my baby - the culmination of a long, natural process in which love is born. Then we have the re-discovery with each one of all the things a newborn can do and that love relationship becomes rock solid.

Ruth didn't have the benefit of any of this. She was carried in a traumatized womb nestled in a traumatized girl with a traumatized mind and soul. She was parented by a child who probably continued to act out her own sexual confusion on her baby. As her first days, weeks, months went by and her brain began to form and develop connections from one complicated part to another it was short-circuited by sometimes non-existent and at other times foreign and inappropriate stimuli. Her physical development became distorted (she still walks with a slight limp even though there is nothing physically wrong with her). Her ideas of love, safety, joy, nurturing grew up in a manure bed of distortions and her sense of self was cut off from her, hidden in a place deep within her.

She is not able yet to function as a "normal" part of our family. She cannot form meaningful friendships and she may never be able to navigate the difficult maze called marriage. Simple tasks are often impossible for her, my counselor insists that at this point I am her executive functioning. The past six years have been a constant effort to teach her to play, to hug appropriately, to chat, to remember to chew... Much damage has been done to this little one.

I am always amazed at the amount of damage that can be done to a child even while still in the womb. If a mother remains detached and disaffected during pregnancy, chances are even a child placed immediately within a loving, nurturing, stimulating home will have difficulty with bonding and attachment (such is the case with another of our children). If that same child is allowed to develop in those early weeks and months of infancy with the same detached or traumatized mother then the damage deepens. I know children whose lives may be irredeemable barring some miracle of God (further explanation of this topic may be further fodder for another post - I can hear the objections as I type...). They will grow up and become dangerous to society, even though they are now in loving and nurturing homes where all the best of resources (physical and spiritual) are being applied to their care. And all of them were placed in loving families within months of birth. The damage was done.

We are no longer the starry-eyed optimists we once were and when we see those young couples who enter into adoption thinking that their love will be enough we inwardly cringe and outwardly try to offer softened warnings about the turn their lives are about to take. I will never stop believing that God can and may heal Ruth and our other children completely but I also know that we need to realistically assess where we are now. The truth is, God is choosing to heal gradually - moment by agonizing moment. There may be a day on this earth, in this life, when he scoops up Ruth in His hands and blows the dust from her soul and she will emerge whole -- or that day may never come this side of Heaven. Until then I will remain convicted of my task to walk alongside her, guide her, love her and introduce her to the Great Physician, even as I shake my head and marvel at the Damage Done. For as great as the damage is, how much greater will redemption be.

Much In Common

2008-07-29T14:31:00.002-04:00

Don stopped by Thoughts the other day and left a comment. That gave me a chance to look at his blog and I was immediately struck by how much we have in common. He is a single, Orthodox dad who adopted an 11 year son with RAD (the same diagnosis as our JT and Ruth). That son is several years older now and his dad has been blogging their journey together through adoption and orthodoxy. I hope you enjoy his blog as much as I have been! He is brutally honest and refreshingly transparent. Thanks for sharing Don!

Back to Square One

2008-07-22T23:37:00.002-04:00

The very first thing I learned in graduate school was that I knew nothing. I arrived at Brown University's theater department at age 20, feeling pretty good about my resume as a theater generalist up that point and pretty smart for being so young and landing in such a prestigious place. That all ended after about 2 hours into my graduate school career. I had one professor whose primary focus was American popular entertainment. This man knew more about circus performers than I even knew existed to know about circus performers. Another professor was an expert on Javanese shadow puppetry and another had cornered the knowledge market on the American Broadway Musical. After sitting in on about 1o minutes of class time with each of these guys I realized the depth of knowledge just in theater history and theory alone was vast enough to drown in, let alone that level of knowledge of the endless other topics upon which my fellow students were taxing their brains across the humanities. There is just a lot of knowledge to be had in the world and I suddenly felt like a flitting, brainless flea on the Great Dane of history.

I've since comforted myself with the idea that much of that knowledge has very little impact nor import on my life as a mom, a wife or even as a Christian. God didn't call me to collect that knowledge (how I ended up as a graduate student at Brown is fodder for another post with the working title of My Big Prideful Mistake), he called me to be a mom, a wife and a Worshiper. In fact, I must confess that I seem to have some sort of severe memory problem. I can't remember anything - and it isn't just "Mommy Brain" or "Getting Older" - I've always had this problem. I can't remember people's names, gifts people have given me, movies I've seen, books I've read or knowledge I've amassed. About the only thing I can recollect is personal conversations and my husband will chide me for even getting those wrong (although he likes to give me the benefit of the doubt by ending every disagreement over the issue with "You have your memory of that conversation and I have mine"). It's so bad that I finally had to make a deal with God - If it's important enough for Him to want me to remember it then He'll need to remind me of it. This has worked out nicely so far, or so I'd like to think...

Over the past 20 or 30 years I've collected, then, what I hoped was enough understanding of God and His Ways to at least develop some sense of a personal faith life. I understood the differences between Protestants and Catholics. I knew the ins and outs of Evangelicals and Charismatics. I could pray in tongues, prophecy and recite my creeds - both the so-called Apostles Creed and the Nicene Creed. I knew Liturgy - as a personal form of worship and as a theological construct. So imagine my surprise when we became Orthodox. Suddenly I know Nothing again. I am back to that flitting flea, this time on the Newfoundland of Theology. Where once I was a prophet sought out for advice and "the Word of the Lord" I now have nothing to offer by way of novel spiritual insight. As the hubris of the charismatic crushed under its own weight I found myself crawling from the rubble with not much left of my Christian identity.

Recently I've been slogging through Dr. Alexandre Kalomiros' essay The River of Fire which somehow found its way to the back of Archbishop Puhalo's book on the The Ikon As Scripture. Tad insists that all that he's saying in this essay are the ideas he's tried to teach and preach about for years now but I don't remember - or I was just plain too simple to get it. All this stuff about Augustine and the True nature of God is just plain blowing my mind - and my spirit. It takes me several readings of a sentence just to "get" his drift. Then I move on to the next paragraph and forget what I just learned the page before and have to start all over again. It is all so new, so different, so radically not what I thought I knew and understood and yet it makes so much sense.

So here I am back at square one - back at the beginning of finding my identity in Jesus Christ. I am thankful to Anastasia and her series on Why Did Jesus Die?. I am thankful for a priest who hands me books I need to read, I am thankful for the Church Fathers who, even in all of their knowledge can boil down faith to a simple "Jesus have mercy on me" and I am thankful for God who has yet to give up on me even when I find myself forgetting and beginning again. I have never asked for God's mercy as much as I have as an Orthodox believer and I believe that God, in His mercy, is reducing me to the knowledge and faith of a child.

Man In Black

2008-07-22T15:04:00.001-04:00

Someone sent me this today. Thanks Ginny!

Living Within the Royal Gates

2008-07-03T23:14:00.001-04:00

Archbishop Lazar writes in his book The Ikon As Scripture, "Notice that on the north side of the royal gates, we see the ikon depicting the Theotokos with Christ, while on the south side is the ikon of Christ alone, usually shown with the Gospel book. We are not looking at pictures of "a virgin and child" and "Jesus," for these are theological ikons of the First and Second coming of Christ. Let us look at the significance of this for a moment. We know that the sanctuary is a type of paradise, and the royal gates thus "open into paradise." In the Divine Liturgy, the Gospel is taught, read and preached from the royal gates; all the liturgical revelation about the path and means of salvation is given in, or in front of, the royal gates. Thus, the ikon of the First and of the Second Coming of Christ are placed on either side of these gates, because the time of salvation, the "age of redemption," takes place between the First and Second Coming of Jesus Christ. There, the arrangement of these ikons on either side of the royal gates preaches to us the scriptural message that, "behold, now is the accepted time; behold now is the day of salvation" (2 Cor 6:2). (emphasis his, not mine)

I've been pondering this truth for quite some time now and it has had a profound impact on how I see the royal gates of the Orthodox church. I have wavered between finding them just plain an annoyance when trying to see the action on the altar and finding them a wonderful picture of the incompleteness of what we can see of the heavenly mysteries from our earthly perspective. Not until I read this, did I consider a third perspective - that of the royal doors as the sanctifying now. The doors then become the working out of our salvation at this very moment - the place in which the business of theosis occurs during our earthly sojourn.

When I get frustrated with the sinfulness in myself and the world I can peer into the face of Jesus on the icon to the right and I can almost hear him say to me, "It's because this is the Not Yet. But my Kindgom Comes and My Will will be done. " And if I look to the left I see the infant Jesus - the Incarnation at His Birth into this world and I see God's mercy in the midst of the sinfulness of this world. Then I bring my focus back to the Royal Gates - back to the altar where I can receive the Eucharist, back to the icons of the saints surrounding us where I can remember those who came before, back to the podium in the corner where I can exercise the Rite of Confession, back to the people standing all around me who are in the same boat as me.

Some Random Thoughts As of Late

2008-07-02T23:08:00.002-04:00

It seems there's been death about me lately and thus I've had lots of various thoughts running through my mind and my soul. We've been to two funerals in the past couple of weeks - one in a Baptist church to celebrate the life of Gwen, Tad's sister's mother-in-law and one in a Nazarene church to celebrate the life of Cathy, the daughter and sister of good friends. I also have a friend who lost a foster baby to SIDS. Her daughters are especially grieving that little life. I can only begin to imagine the pain...

The funerals themselves were interesting. Neither one being Orthodox, they left us with some amount of incompleteness on several levels and yet there were traditions that were warm and wonderful, like the reading of the cards and condolences at Gwen's funeral. Never before had I seen that done but it added a tenderness to the funeral to hear the roll call of saints who offered up their own grief as a gift to the family. In the absence of liturgy and vestments, the ushers at that church donned matching white gloves and dresses. They wandered up and down the aisles directing people, handing out fans, service programs and tissues in synchronized movements and seeing to the every need of the people in the pews. These people were repeatedly referred to as "The Church" - "while we are waiting for the church to be seated", "and the church say amen" - that seemed right. If only the rest of "the church" had been written onto the walls of the building in the forms of the saints and angels...

At the Nazarene church we were treated to hymns sung by the presider - a minister with a beautiful baritone voice. It reminded me of the times in my childhood when my sister and her boyfriend would sing "special music" at his Baptist services. (On those Sundays we would take leave of our Lutheran services and travel up the road to see the "inspirational performance". On one Sunday there we witnessed a series of believer baptisms in the bathtub installed in the front of the church. One woman lost her wig when she was dunked under the water. I'm sure Beth and Chip sang some special music that day as well.) There was a lot of sitting at that service. We participated only in the singing of one hymn - even the Lord's prayer was "performed" for us by the Baritone minister. Here "the church" seemed to have been either forgotten or solely a target for ministry. So much for the priesthood of the believers.

Both services, but particularly the one in the Baptist church focused on the deceased's personal relationship with Jesus - and our relationship with Jesus. Jesus was so much in the fore that we began to wonder where the rest of the Trinity had gone...Which made it funny to me when a friend I saw at the viewing began to question me about Orthodoxy and asked "You do believe in the Trinity don't you?" I was stunned into silence for a moment as I remembered that once I didn't understand anything about Orthodoxy either. But it was like asking me as a mother "you don't let your children play in the highway do you?" Our Holy Orthodox church having its Trinitarian beliefs questioned! The very church that was established in the sweat of our Church Fathers fighting against the heresies of those early days of Christianity! How could one think we aren't Trinitarian? But then this friend had never been to a Divine Liturgy, had never prayed the Trisagion prayers, had never crossed himself a hundred times in one Liturgy in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit unto ages of ages amen! In the midst of Evangelicals who seem to have lost sight of the Holy Trinity, the question seemed absurd, insulting even....

I wanted to comfort the grieving with Liturgy. I wanted to hear Holy God! Holy Mighty! Holy Immortal! I wanted my friends to hear it in their souls that God is holy, might, immortal. Over and over in my mind went Christ is risen from the dead, trampling death by death and upon those in the tombs bestowing life! I wanted to press the icon of the Resurrection against their hearts and imprint the Victory of it in their minds. It wasn't enough. The funerals weren't enough. I think I will send Cathy's parents a little note at the times when we would normally be saying a Pannikhida for their daughter. The thing about that tradition is the respect for the grieving process of the family. The grief does not begin and end at the funeral. It is a different experience in 3 days, in 9 days, in 40 days, in one year....The Orthodox prayer life acknowledges that. That's why I'd like to go to an Orthodox funeral - would like the ones I love to have the benefit of the prayers, the Liturgy. I suspect it would feel more complete, more inclusive of the Trinity, the deceased, the grieving friends and family - something solid upon which to stand in the midst of sadness.

The Milk Giver

2008-07-02T22:46:00.004-04:00

I can so relate to this icon of the Theotokos right now....(and really, that's what it's called!)

Churching

2008-06-23T14:43:00.008-04:00

Yesterday Tali and I were "churched" and JT and Ben experienced their first Confessions in the Holy Orthodox Church. It turned out to be a short-lived Liturgy for our first time back since Tali's birth. JT succumbed to the family's diarrhea bug shortly after the start of the service and I ended up taking home JT and the youngest four as Nathan and David were also languishing in the tail end effects it's hold (pun intended...).

At any rate, the churching ceremony was very special and Ben was on hand to take a few pictures. We discussed whether or not we should wait the full forty days. I did stay home last Sunday which was a big deal for this cradle never-miss-a-Sunday Protestant and it seemed spiritually difficult for me and logistically difficult for Tad to wait out the remainder of the time. Fr. Greg let it be up to us - I don't think he really expected us to wait the full forty days.
O Lord God, Who ever draws near for the salvation of the human race, come also to this Your servant Mary, and through the prayers of Your venerable Priesthood account her worthy to find refuge in Your holy Catholic Church, to obtain entrance into the Temple of Your Glory, and worthy also to partake of the Precious Body and Blood of Your Christ. In the fulfillment of the forty days, wash away from her every transgression, voluntary and involuntary, so that accounted worthy to enter Your holy Temple, she may glorify with us Your All; Holy Name, of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, both now and ever, and to the ages of ages. Amen.

There was that mention of finding refuge in the holy Catholic Church again. I am feeling more and more nestled into the guiding hand of the Holy Spirit each time I hear that phrase - the church as refuge - yes, Lord! But it was at this point I also realized this isn't just a trite little ceremony written into the prayer book as a pleasantry. It has meaning, it has purpose and perhaps I should have at least tried to wait out the forty days. Did I miss out on some spiritual blessings by not taking that time prescribed by the Church? I don't know. I'm sure no one is faulting me for it but it does give me pause to wonder. Maybe next time....

Then it was Tali's turn for a powerful prayer:
O Lord our God, Who on the fortieth day was brought as a child into the Temple of the Law by Mary, the Virgin Bride and Your holy Mother, and was carried in the arms of the righteous Symeon, do You also, Sovereign Master All-Powerful, bless this presented babe that it may appear before You, the Creator of all things. And do You increase in her every good work acceptable to You, removing from her every opposing might by the sign of the likeness of Your Cross; for You are He Who guards infants, O Lord. So that, accounted worthy of holy Baptism,she may obtain the portion of Your Elect of the Kingdom, being protected with us by the Grace of the Holy Consubstantial and Undivided Trinity. For unto You do we send up Glory, Honor and Worship, with Your Eternal Father and Your All; Holy, Good and Life-creating Spirit, both now and ever, and to the ages of ages. Amen.

There's nothing like prayers that arise straight out of the creeds of the Church. This prayer was a statement to worlds seen and unseen - let there be no doubt to Whom Tali belongs!

Then, taking up the child, the Priest lifts it up in the sign of the Cross before the Gates of the Temple, saying:

The servant of God Talitha is churched, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I will go into Your House. I will worship toward Your Holy Temple in fear of You.

Coming to the center of the church, he says:

The servant of God Talitha is churched, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. In the midst of the congregation I will sing praises to You.

Then he brings the child before the Doors of the Altar, saying:

The servant of God Talitha is churched, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

It was beautiful to watch Tali being introduced to the Church in the hands of our priest - the Church Militant surrounding us, the saints and angels whose visages we see dimly through the eyes of the icons, and Christ Himself at the altar. This will be Tali's world - for truly she is not part of any other.I was so sorry to have to leave so abruptly - especially to miss Holy Communion. It seemed like I was taking my blessing and making a run for it. I suppose that is just another of the challenges of a large family.

SEAL!

2008-05-28T21:14:00.034-04:00

Finally, the long-awaited pictures from our Chrismation! I've been quite busy trying to keep my rapidly swelling feet elevated which is not particularly conducive to blogging as that places my typing hands within an awkward position snaked about my very large girth and reaching toward the keyboard...

At any rate, the whole week last week was full of frustrations and doubts for me. It was obvious the enemy of our souls wanted to create strife in those same souls but Sunday morning did eventually roll around and find us all healthy and ready. Although, as we all walked out the front door in our neatly pressed white garments there was more than the usual sibling bantering and verbal battering. Even the 5 minute drive to where we hold services proved near fatal to a deer that lunged headlong in front of the (rental) van - an occasion never before witnessed by my husband who has been driving this road for nigh 20 years now.

We arrived at the church unscathed, however, and almost early by Orthodox standards of time (i.e. only a few minutes late). The first thing we did was take off everyone's shoes and line them up along the wall. Fr. Greg had promised the children that they could go through the whole service - including Divine Liturgy - unshod and so we abandoned the shoes first thing (of course this wouldn't be unusual for some jurisdictions but is not common practice in the Ukrainian church). If you're counting pairs you might notice one pair missing - David didn't even bother to wear his into the van...and, yes, we allowed JM to wear his new Cars "crops" to church since they wouldn't be seen anyway...Nathan suddenly decided he loves to wear his shoes and socks and it took us several minutes to mute his protestations at the injustice of us doing something to him which he would normally do on his own within moments of being shod in the first place (his miniature wing tips are in between Betsy's and Ruth's sandals).

To begin with, we gathered all the children in the back where Fr. Greg asked us Do you wish to enter into union with the Orthodox-Catholic Faith?I do! Here I got a hit over the head with a tremendous peace and calm. All my fears, worries and doubts were dispelled as I clearly stated the whole purpose of all our preparations. The YES of my children from a couple of days before settled once and for all within my own soul and the rest was a wonderful ride into the arms of the Holy Spirit.

Fr. Greg laid his hands on each one of us as he prayed for us O Lord God of Truth, look down upon Thy servants who seek to make haste unto They Holy Orthodox Church, and to take refuge under her shelter.Those words, under her shelter...Finally I knew that I'm safe, moored on a rock and no more shifting around in the sands of the divided church. In the CEC we talked about women finding shelter under the authority of and submission to their husbands, the bishops and the presbyters. In Orthodoxy it is the Living Church Herself who shelters the faithful - and has been doing so uninterrupted for 2,000 years....Yes, This is a safe place....

We then got to renounce the various teachings we'd followed. We'd had an extensive conversation with Fr. Greg determining which set of questions would define those teachings for us considering our meandering path through much of Christianity. We settled on a set of teachings, the most important of which for us was the opportunity to renounce our recitation of the filioque clause in the Nicene Creed. Those three simple words - and the Son - have proven to be the core of just about every conflict we had within the church to that point. It was so good to renounce them, put them behind us, recite the creed as a family without them, and truly walk into our new church home one with the Orthodox faith and teaching.

We were now ready to enter the church with the saints awaiting us. Fr. Greg offered up the part of his vestments called the Epitrachelion and each one of us held onto it as we walked into the temple reciting Psalm 66. He led us to the Ambon where had been placed a Gospel, a cross, and the Chrism. Fr. Greg urged us Stand aright. Stand with fear. And before the Gospel and the Holy Cross of the Savior affirm your vow and each one of us in turn from Tad on down to the Nathan then kissed the Gospel book and the cross.

Next came the fun part. Fr. Greg anointed each of us with the Holy Chrism announcing with each sign of the cross Seal of the Gift of the Holy Spirit to which the congregation responded each time Seal!

Each of us in turn was marked with the Holy Chrism on our Forehead - SEAL! Eyes - SEAL! Nostrils - SEAL! Ears - SEAL! Mouth - SEAL! Chest -SEAL! Hands- SEAL! and Feet - SEAL! Nathan was none too enthusiastic about this part but Betsy and Ben in particular were beaming with joy. I think Ginny took this picture just to prove to me that I do have feet at this point in my pregnancy. I was beginning to doubt...

After the oiling up, there was general sponging down on all the same spots for each one of us and that was the celebration of the Holy Sacrament of Chrismation. We paused here for a few photo opportunities. There were so many cameras lined up across the row in front of us that you can see none of us were looking at the same one at the same time. This picture is our family in our white garments with Fr. Greg and our dear sponsors Ginny and Joe.

The kids were then able to take their Chrismated, barefoot selves and have a seat while Tad and I received the sacrament of Confession - a much-needed catharsis as we had much to put behind us and now much more to which we could look forward. With my hand on the Gospel and the icon of Christ before me, this sacrament took on new meaning and touched me deeply.

We celebrated after Divine Liturgy - during which we all received Eucharist for the first time in the Holy Orthodox church - with a picnic at our house. It was a wonderful time during which we were really able to feel a part of our new church family. Their love and generosity was apparent throughout our whole catechumenate and especially during this special celebration. Tracy brought us a flower. She had carefully picked over each one, counting blooms, until she found one with 9 blooms and a couple buds carefully tucked under the leaves. We thought that was so neat. I'll try to water it, but it will be a challenge!

The parish photographer, Alex, and his wife presented us with a large, framed print of this picture which had been taken during the bishop's visit last month - yet another beautiful gesture that said to us clearly we are part of this family. We have been included in the family photo album, grafted into the family tree, adopted into this Church. The bishop himself had expressed a desire to be there with us for our Chrismation celebration. He spoke to Fr. Greg shortly before the big event and expressed his sadness that he would not be able to make it. However, he specifically requested that Fr. Greg send him all of our Chrismation names so that he could offer prayers for us during the Divine Liturgy in whichever parish he happened to be this day. One special gesture after another after another....

Ginny and Joe gave us an icon to add to our slowly building collection. This one got hung immediately on the partition wall facing the dining room. It had already been blessed by Father. Ginny and Joe also offered another tremendous gift of their time and talent specifically for JT, Ruth and Miriam. Ginny makes beautifully decorated cakes which those three have never been able to try due to their dietary limitations so Ginny, determined to make them feel loved and included, spent several days converting her own cake recipe to Feingold specifications. The cake was gorgeous, tasted fantastic and made three of our brood in particular very, very happy. They did, indeed, feel loved.

Pani Chris had crosses for each of the children and then Fr. Greg presented us with an icon that came with a story. It seems about 5 years ago one of the parishioners traveled to a parish where he knew he would be able to buy some special icons that he thought the parish could then use to give as gifts as needed. He came home with 5 icons - 4 of which were common icons of Christ and were, indeed, given as gifts as a couple of years passed by. The fifth one, Fr. Greg said, was just a little odd - not bad, just different - and he wasn't sure to whom it could possibly be given as an appropriate gift. His conundrum was solved, however, when our family arrived at the church door and became catechumens. It quickly became apparent that this icon had been sitting in his office for the past five years patiently awaiting the arrival of our family. Receiving this icon as a special gift was the final affirmation for our whole family that we had come home. God knew just how to welcome us into this new family and had had the mercy to show us once again that all things come together for His glory and that He does, indeed, have a plan for us.

Chrismation - Tad's Recollections

2008-05-26T19:58:00.000-04:00

Sealed!

Yesterday, we all got up early, washed up, dressed, fed the little ones, then everyone lined up while my dear wife put clean white shirts on all the kids as we prepared for chrismation. Even the van was white for the occasion (a rental while we await Clifford's repair). Naturally, hassle after hassle kept cropping up, from whining toddlers to lost car keys to almost colliding with a deer (in a section of town where I have never, ever seen a deer in over twenty years of driving through it). But, we made it to our mission church's borrowed temple space, and after removing everyone's shoes (my wife will put some pics up on her blog soon), we entered into the Christmation Rite.

My poor wife has been assailed with doubts and challenges all week, but they really didn't start for me until we began the "cleansing" by renouncing all manner of misguided beliefs. The key one for me was the renunciation of the "filioque", because I believe that this single word is the root of all the troubles the Church struggles with in the modern age, especially the charismania with which we have been up close and personal. Anyway, as these waves of random doubts and fears passed over my soul, I assuaged them by reminding myself of all the fine, upstanding Orthodox Christians I know, then those whose writings I admire (Anastasia Theodoris, FMG, Fr Alexander Schmemann, Fr Thomas Hopko), then to the great saints of the Church (St John Chrysostom, the Great Cappadocians, and so many more), and it suddenly struck me that this was what the Communion of Saints was all about -- that great "cloud of witnesses" that serves to strengthen and guide us through our fears and uncertainties. Then, the next thing I know, Father has the oil out, people are shouting "Sealed!", and then I've crossed that bridge and now stand as one with the saints of Orthodoxy. One by one the rest of my family joined me, and then we all stood together surrounded by the saints and the hosts of heaven.

The rest of the day was a joy. We had invited the parish over to our house to celebrate with a cookout, and it was great to welcome our new parish family into our home to sit, chat, eat, and get to know each other just a little bit better. They brought us some beautiful icons, which I hope we can get pics up soon. The weather was perfect, and everyone had a great time.

That night, after everything got cleaned up and my wife and I were relaxing, we compared notes on how we felt at the end of this long adventure. "Safe" was her word. "Home" was mine -- but not in the sense of returning to anything, but more in the sense of how we would refer to our adopted children on their arrival days as "bringing them home". We have been adopted home, and it is a good feeling indeed.

Many thanks to everyone who have supported and prayed for us during this time. May God grant you many years!

YES!

2008-05-24T13:14:00.002-04:00

Yesterday Fr. Greg came and met with the children to discuss any of their questions and go over the Chrismation service, Eucharist, etc. He was explaining to them how we would stand in the back and not enter the church until we had answered some questions and then went on to tell them what the questions would be. The first question, he said, would be Do you want to become members of the Holy Orthodox church? He wasn't expecting an answer, he was just listing off the questions, but when he asked that three of the children shouted out "YES!" That's when it hit me. Yes! I want to become a member of the Holy Orthodox church. My children are excited - even Ben and JT are on board - and seeing that excitement in my children woke up a spark in me long dormant. My children have some intuitive sense that this is right and good but I think I've been hesitant to get excited, to fully enter in, to allow myself to be fully engaged and it took that resounding YES from my children to jumpstart my own sense of adventure and joy. I suddenly pictured us taking that first step across the threshold into the church (oh if only we actually had a church building and we could walk into the middle of the domed Christ!) and becoming something new.

A friend emailed me early in the week. She wouldn't be able to come to the Chrismation but her heart is with us and she reminded me that we may be attacked by the enemy of our souls this week. She was right - and the attacks came from people we know and love - people from our last church who just kept showing up all week in our lives and inadvertently reminding me of the mess we left. I should have been encouraged and glad to be moving on but instead I found myself feeling bogged down with old emotions, past guilts, insecurities that have no place in our current life.

I don't want that victory to belong to the evil one. I want the victory to be Christ's. I want more than anything else to join my children and my dear husband in saying YES! YES, this is solid ground. YES, this is a dwelling place of the Holy Trinity. And YES, this will be a safe home for us.

Talitokos

2008-05-24T13:09:00.002-04:00

For those who don't follow the family blog, we've decided to name the baby Talitha Hope and we've been calling her Tali. Tad, in his infinitely clever sense of humor, has since dubbed me Talitokos - Tali Bearer....You know it's time for Chrismation when we've developed inside Orthodox jokes...One more day!!!

Getting Ready...

2008-05-17T21:26:00.003-04:00

Last Sunday it gave my heart a little thrill when I went up for a blessing during Eucharist and Fr. Greg mumbled "2 more weeks" as he blessed me with the chalice. Now it is just one more week as next Sunday our whole family will celebrate the sacrament of Chrismation together and receive Eucharist after a long, dry many months. We are excited to become an official part of this parish which we have grown to love and to be one with the Holy Orthodox Church. There are still lots of questions and particularly that nagging question in the backs of our minds, but I think we are ready. We are ready to be a part of something ancient and wonderful and mysterious that will take us the rest of our lives to unwrap. If you live nearby and would like to celebrate with us, please come. It would mean the world to us to share this new expression of our faith with friends and family - or even perfect strangers who just want to taste and see a bit of Orthodoxy.

Who's to say it won't happen again?

2008-05-16T13:26:00.002-04:00

And, seeing that we have already left at least one church with enthusiasm for another, what is going to keep us from doing the same thing down the road?

This question was posed on the On Our Way Home forum and I wanted to post my response here because it has been very much on my mind these past months. There is much more I could say about it but this sums up my thoughts.

I ask myself this question daily - sometimes hourly as our Chrismation date approaches. I embraced my PA Dutch Lutheran heritage with loyal gusto, I jumped into the charismatic movement in the Episcopal church and followed that thread around for years and through several denominations, I went into the Roman Catholic church kicking and screaming until I realized God had a great plan for my time there and there is much to love about it and then we found the CEC and that was going to be our final resting place - the one church that had it all - and it turned out to be a lie, a failure, the most painful stop on our journey.

Orthodoxy is like nothing we've ever experienced and yet everything we've been searching for but how can we know? How can we know we won't betray Orthodoxy and Orthodoxy won't betray us? We just can't. All we can do is cling to the hope that God does guide us even when we fail to hear correctly. And, there is really nowhere else left for us - short of jumping into a cult, we've pretty much been there, done that.

Honestly, I am still struggling with why we ended up in the CEC. Many have tried to console us with the God molding, shaping and making us lemonade argument but I just can't buy it yet. Maybe with more time and distance I will but I still feel like it was all a big mistake in judgement that could have been avoided. I am ashamed to say that out of my own prelest, I wanted a place where I could be prophetic and be heard. I found it...and my so-called prophetic words were twisted and used to justify prideful and hurtful decisions. This may be the foundational reason for me that Orthodoxy is where we belong now. They call pride what it is and seek after nothing less than the indwelling of Christ and the Holy Spirit. But boy does that look different to the Orthodox than to this former charismaniac! When I grow old I want to be able to dispense some small wisdom with simply a quiet wink and a nod - and even then recognize that I am but nothing in the ages upon ages.

New Hierarch in the Ukrainian Orthodox Church!

2008-05-12T23:24:00.003-04:00

One of our visitors along with our bishop last month was Fr. Dan. We had encountered Fr. Dan once or twice before and each time he proved to be a very effervescent and enthusiastic priest. He was wonderfully playful with the children and very warm with everyone. This past weekend he was consecrated as a bishop at the Ukrainian cathedral in Parma, Ohio. Fr. Greg was able to travel to Ohio for the event (he and Fr. Dan were seminary buddies) and returned home full of wonderful stories and descriptions of the various ceremonies throughout the weekend. You can read about his consecration here.

Tad and I have been struck by the process of choosing and training new bishops in the Orthodox church. It makes sense that only those priests called to celibacy would be allowed to become bishops. The travel and pastoral duties of a bishop are definitely much better fulfilled without the addition of a family to support emotionally, physically and certainly financially as well. Fr. Dan was consecrated an auxiliary bishop first which means that in his youth (both physically and as a newly-consecrated hierarch) he will spend time learning how to be a bishop. He will travel quite a bit, observe a lot and take the time to absorb and learn even more. I found his remarks to the Hierachs of the church to be quite revealing of his humility and the humility required of the episcopal office. So much so, that I think they are worth repeating here:

“The will of the faithful of our Holy Ukrainian Orthodox Church of the USA and the Holy Synod of the Great Church of Christ call me this day to the most responsible service and authority of a Bishop, successor to the Apostles and witness to the words and deeds of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

It is with the profound sense of humility that I stand in front of you my brothers hierarchs, reverend fathers and brothers and sisters in the Lord and reflect upon my unworthiness to receive this call and be chosen for this profound service and responsibility – a bishop in our Lord’s blessed Vineyard.

I cannot help but to reflect upon the words of Holy Apostle Paul, describing the moral standards and characteristics of Episcopal service: “For a bishop must be blameless, as a steward of God, not self-willed, not quick-tempered … but hospitable, a lover of what is good, just, holy, self-controlled, holding fast the faithful word as he has been taught, that he may be able, by sound doctrine, both to exhort and convict those who contradict.”

A steward of God…. Am I worthy of this responsibility? Were the Apostles worthy of this responsibility?

They were simple people – fishing, collecting taxes – doing the things ordinary people do to live. Then something happened. They were called by someone and sent somewhere. And when that happened, everything changed. They saw themselves differently, went places they never thought of going before, thought thoughts that never would have come into their heads, and did things they never would have seen themselves doing. Their world turned upside down. They were called and sent – and everything was rearranged.

Standing in front of you I also reflect upon the words of Holy Prophet Isaiah, the very words that our Savior Jesus Christ once spoke at the beginning of his public ministry: "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me because the Lord has anointed me. He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the broken-hearted… to announce a year of favor from the Lord…"
One of the first duties of a bishop is the proclamation of the Good News of our Lord Jesus Christ.

I humbly realize that as a bishop, I will now enjoy the privileged responsibility of teaching the faith and proclaiming a word of hope and encouragement to people not only of our Holy Ukrainian Orthodox Church of the USA but to people of all cultures and languages. Although the circumstances may vary, ultimately, it is one same Word that people need to hear—the Good News of our Risen Lord.

In the Holy Priesthood - as bishops, priests, and deacons, we are ministers of God's Word, a Word that we can only proclaim to others if we have first heard it in the silence of our hearts through prayer.

Our work of evangelization naturally leads people to the Lord's altar, to a desire to share in the mystery of His Death and Resurrection through the Holy Mystery Eucharist and the other Mysteries of the Church.

My beloved brothers: as a shepherd, bishop is concerned not only for the unity of the Church, but also in looking for ever-new ways to promote the dignity of human life from the first moment of conception until natural death. As a teacher, bishop is not only handing on and renewing our Orthodox faithful in their understanding of the Faith, but he is also called to articulate our faith values and show how they apply to the many social issues of our times. I beg you to pray for me so that I have the strength to become a voice speaking on behalf of the basic human rights for all people. Because of my faith and ethnic background, heritage, and somewhat limited experience, I hope to have a special opportunity to witness to the special needs of people; to help others become ever-more sensitive to cultural diversity and the way our Church and our country will be stronger as we learn to share the gifts and resources with one another.

I solemnly realize that as a shepherd among my own - Holy Ukrainian Orthodox Christian community, I must deepen my own holiness through the exercise of my episcopal ministry among the people of God. I pray that my availability and sensitivity to the clergy and laity alike will be a source of joy and encouragement for them and for myself as well. I will do everything possible to help to build up the unity of our Holy Ukrainian Orthodox Church by involvement in the work of the parishes and institutions and organizations of our Church throughout the world that continue the teaching and healing ministry of our Risen Lord.
This evening, I spiritually prostrate myself before the Lord, acknowledging my human weakness and dependence on God’s mercy. Then, in all humility, with every fiber of my being I shall arise from the posture of prostration – a sign of my complete self-giving – and come forward for the most powerful but ever silent gesture of the descent of the Holy Spirit - laying on of hands, the central act of Episcopal consecration, a reminder that ordination brings a whole new identity, a new way of living.

I am being called to this ministry in order to serve in the name of the Lord. May I always remember that He alone is my life source and that all ministry will be effective and fruitful only to the extent that I must forget myself and allow Christ to work through me.
The obedience that I am pledging this day is not simply committing myself to a particular eparchy for a certain number of years. Rather, my obedience must embrace an attitude whereby I freely and completely immerse myself in this service and this Holy Ukrainian Orthodox Church with all of its gifts and needs.

I prayerfully reflect upon the question posed to the sons of Zebedee in the Gospel: “Can you drink this cup?” As I am consecrated and then drink of the Cup each day, may I be renewed by the love for the Lord and His Holy Church. May the Holy Spirit come down upon you, my beloved hierarchs and our whole Church, blessing all of us who serve together in His Name.
And so, with fear of God, I anticipate the descent of the Holy Spirit and with a child-like attitude I beg you, my beloved brothers and sisters in the Lord to remember me in your prayers, and you, my beloved hierarchs, I beg to bless me and remember me, a sinner, in your prayers so that the Lord will send down His Divine Grace and make me a worthy servant of His Church for His Glory and salvation of others. Amen.”

This is yet another of our hierarchs well on his way to restoring my faith in the true apostolic leadership of the church. May God grant him many years!

Flashback

2008-05-12T23:13:00.002-04:00

It's been raining like the dickens here for a couple of days. Last night we sat on the sofa and heard a couple of rescue vehicles roar down the road and turn into what seemed like either our neighborhood or one very close by. We opened our front door to investigate and the smell of smoke filled the doorway from the outside air. It brought back so many memories since it smelled exactly like our house did after the fire three years ago. We sat back down and started chatting about it when I realized that JT was really struggling. Within minutes he was in tears and shaking on the sofa. He was so concerned about the fire that he asked his dad to go out and investigate but couldn't bring himself to go along. He was worried about the people in the fire, he was worried about the house, he was just one big ball of worry. I encouraged him to pray for the people who had been affected by it since he could understand all the emotions they might be feeling. He snuggled with me on the sofa until Tad returned with the report that the fire was across the main road from our development, looked like it had started in a garage and also looked like it had been reduced to smoldering fairly quickly.

I asked JT if knowing made him feel better and he said, "yeah". I asked if he'd been praying for them and he said "Yes." That was a touching moment. He's been struggling so much with his faith lately that to see him go to Jesus when he is feeling most vulnerable and frightened was very encouraging. It's also helpful that our new Orthodox faith provides us with such a simple way to cover all the bases when we just need to cry out to God in our own weakness and inadequacy - "Lord have mercy" speaks volumes to the soul.

Ch..Ch..Ch...Chan...ges!

2008-05-03T15:29:00.003-04:00

I had the following email exchange with a friend of mine concerning the post about Pascha. She is a cradle Episcopalian whose father was an Episcopal minister. I love her sense of humor...

I really enjoy your blog about the Orthodox Church.

I was intrigued by the expression "flesh-meat". As a history teacher, I can tell you even as late as the American Revolution, "meat" was a generic name for food - e.g., Thou givest them their meat in due season. "Sauce" was anything that accompanied the main dish - vegetables, bread, etc. but not necessarily gravy! So flesh-meat would be an archaic (but entirely correct) way of announcing the end of Lent without specifying ham, beef, lamb, and so forth.

Very nifty.

Dani

Too funny, Dani. You always have such a different perspective - do you mind if I post your comment in the comments section of my blog?

And as far as flesh-meat being archaic, that's Orthodoxy in a nut-shell. The joke goes

Q. How many Orthodox Christians does it take to change a lightbulb?

A. (insert your favorite ethnic accent) Change? What is this thing you call change?!

We are indeed enjoying "Bright Week" with the consumption of lots of flesh-meat!

Blessings,
Mary

"Change? Why?! my grandmother donated that light bulb to the church!"

Someplace around here I have a thing about how many Episcopalians it takes to change a light bulb, and the answer is 306, or some such number.

One organist to write a cantata "Phos Luminate", and a choir of twenty to sing it, plus the secretary to type up the bulletin, the rector to lead the service, a crucifer and two acolytes, and a congregation of two hundred to sit in the pews and wonder if this is ever going to end.

And the sexton to actually change the bulb!

And, yes, you may add my little history lesson to your comments section!

The Tyranny of the Mentally Ill

2008-05-03T14:52:00.002-04:00

It's been two weeks since Noah's grandmother walked away with him and decided not to let us parent him. So many have offered their prayers for us and for Noah and I can tell that the prayers of the righteous are indeed effective as promised in the scriptures. Thanks to those prayers, we have been blessed with a lot of clarity in thought and feeling over the past two weeks. Initially, I was heart-broken to have only an empty crib left of the little life we spent the last 8 months raising and nurturing and bringing to emotional health. Then something interesting began to happen. We began to realize that in many ways we are greatly relieved. In my heart that seems selfish and childish but as our minds and hearts began to clear, we recognized the many ways that Noah's grandmother held us in her control.

Our parenting of him, unfortunately, had very little to do with Noah and everything to do with his grandmother. I was not able to do anything with Noah without wondering if my way of doing it would upset his grandmother, would be the source of yet another confrontation, would be met with criticism - and I mean anything - from wiping his jiggly little dupa to dressing him to handling his therapists and filling his sippy cup. We realized that, while we thought we were drifting more and more into a parental role, his grandmother had never really given up an ounce of control. On many days, I wondered which child was more difficult to raise - Noah or his 63 year old grandmother. Without Noah in our home, we are finally getting out from under what I've been thinking of as the Tyranny of the Mentally Ill. It feels good to not have to worry about every minute decision I make in a child's life, to not grimace when the phone rings, to not plan my arguments and plot the boundaries I'll be laying down that day...

We have an interesting call on our marriage and our family. We take people in. We adopt children whom others have spent time messing up before they get to us. We bring in young mothers and their babies. We provide respite for other parents who can't get past the next minute without a break from their children who have serious needs (and, thankfully, the favor is returned). And we listen...a lot...to people, moms, dads who have been affected by the cycles of poverty, mental illness, abuse. We've been around the block a few times now and we're no longer the doe-eyed optimists. These cycles are hard to break, even harder if you are the one doing the soul-breaking labor of cutting into them and leaving them behind. There have been times in the journey when we've been thankful that God has said, "You've given enough. You've done your share in this one's life. Well done good and faithful servant." We might not understand Him saying that when the timing seems way too early to have done much good so this must remain another mystery of our faith.

Ten years ago we lost another baby. We had him in our home as an adoptive placement for 3 months when the birthfather bailed himself out of jail and decided to try to be a dad (that was a nice Christmas present the week before Christmas). It wasn't long before he was back in jail - this time until his son will turn 16 or 17. I talked to his mom a couple of years ago and she says the baby we would have raised in our home is turning into a punk like his dad. At age 7 he was already belligerent, defiant, a ladies' man with a flattering tongue. For ten years we've been praying for that baby, now a 10 year old, to come home to us, for God to do some miracle, for the course of his life to be altered and end the cycle of poverty and abuse he's in. I have his dad's prison address sticky-noted to my computer monitor so I can write to him someday again. He always writes back - he's bored, lonely, says he's changed but I don't know.

So when people say they will pray for Noah to return, I have my doubts - doubts that are founded in a deepening understanding of the reality of life on this side of God's triumphant kingdom.

I had a dream a couple of nights ago. It was an icky dream but good in that for the first time I was able to separate my feelings for Noah, my lost son, from my feelings towards his grandmother. I think that dream is probably the beginning of the real grieving process now that we've begun to sort out the pscyhological abuse we've endured for the past year. Yes, continue to pray for Noah. He is now stuck back in the cycle of co-dependency. His grandmother will continue to define herself in his existence. Unless something drastic changes, he will lose the emerging personality we finally saw in him here to the tyranny of expectations set on him by the mentally ill. It is too subtle to report to any governing agency. He certainly isn't being neglected or physically abused, just subject to the never-ending existence of the poor and their problems. After all, Jesus did promise us that the poor we would always have.

Venn Diagram of an Autistic Life

2008-04-30T22:32:00.002-04:00

I've been mulling this over for quite some time now. Philip has reached a point where he is too high-functioning to realize how low functioning he is and it is radically affecting every area of life. As a 10 year old with the IQ of a 6 year old and the social IQ of a 4 or 5 year old, he *thinks* he's rolling along just fine with his peer group. His autism makes him too self-absorbed to understand that others are not relating to him in the way he thinks they are. This is just fine for him I guess but not so good for the rest of us who need to walk alongside him and help him navigate life a bit more successfully. For many of us, it has become a great frustration.

The jagged edges around the circle that is Philip's World are an indication of the prickliness we experience when we attempt to help him break outside of his circle to meet his wants. He *wants* to have friends, freedoms, responsibilities but he just isn't able to because all of that prickly jagged edge keeps him from making good decisions. Within that jagged edge are characteristics such as "unteachable", "impulsive", "argumentative", "childish", "rigid thinking" and the very practical limitation of his poor speech and language skills.

My job, as I see it, is to provide him with as many bridges as possible to guide him over that prickly outside edge. Ben has been helping me process this and he's had some great insights. He realized, for example, that one bridge he uses for Philip is to present completely novel ideas to him. If Philip has already encountered an idea, he will immediately grow a rigid insistence to keeping it the same no matter what. But Ben has found that if he, say, presents to Philip the rules of a game he has never played before, then Philip will be able to follow the rules and enjoy the game without arguing with others. This bridge, unfortunately, goes both ways back into Philip's World, however, once the rules have been established in Philip's mind and the game is no longer novel.

On Monday I met with Philip's pediatrician to discuss the use of medications as a possible bridge. We will be playing around with Adderall for a while and see if the breaking down of his impulsivity will help to create a bridge toward better decision making which would result in greater freedoms and more responsibility. We are both skeptical, however, at the effectiveness of this since there are so many factors at play here. The autism and mental retardation cannot be cured with medication. I am fortunate (greatly blessed, actually) to have a pediatrician who is willing to walk alongside me on this with completely open lines of communication.

The Specific Carbohydrate Diet has provided a very important bridge for him. With this diet, we control many of his stereotypical/perseverative behaviors as well as his more OCD type behaviors. Helping him improve his speech and language skills is also in the works with the purchase of some software he's been using to help with his speech and I've kicked around the idea of voice lessons as well, using his natural talent for near-perfect pitch, and an outside teacher with whom he won't argue, to help him re-train his lips and tongue to make speech sounds more effectively.

I have a feeling identifying the things through which he filters his thoughts is also an important part of this puzzle. He basically has five different filters that we've identified: Screens (computer, tv, etc), Movies (he often communicates in dialogue from movies), NASCAR, Food and Self-Interest (Ben very astutely identified this filter for me). I think we may find many small footbridges within these filters. If we present information to him through these filters, he may be better able to make limited crossings into the worlds of Family and Others. For example, he is able to relate well with humor to the rest of the family when we are all engaged in recalling a movie we have seen together. An effective and enjoyable activity is for the children to recite lines from movies together with each person taking on a different character. I never made it all the way through the RDI manual before I lost it in the fire but I suspect that some variation on this idea of filters plays a part in the success of that program.

Parenting Philip has never been an easy task and this is just one more step in my on-going attempt to relate to him and guide him closer to leading a productive and fulfilling life.

Great and Holy Pascha

2008-04-27T20:49:00.000-04:00

Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death and upon those in the tombs bestowing life!

After Friday evening's service, we were so excited when Saturday came and preparations for the great Pascha feast could be made. The kids had been practically drooling every time meat was mentioned throughout the week. Ben was actually counting the hours until he could eat meat.

Saturday morning was filled with sports - the girls and Ben had opening day of baseball season and JT played a winning lacrosse game. After that, it was home for a day of preparing food, minds and bodies for the celebration of Pascha. Tad spent the day baking various breads and I put together the miscellaneous things the family wanted in our basket - finishing up the beef jerkey Adora started on Friday, baking the ham, bagging up the fried chicken Adora spent her morning making (LOTS of fried chicken - not so traditional Pascha fare in our basket!), cutting up some fruit, baking a cheesecake and trying to remember the random details like a stick of butter and a candle for the blessing of the baskets.

If I was proud of my hrudka, Tad had even more reason to be pleased with his breads. First he made three loaves of sandwich bread for the ham. He made a beautiful braided bread with the eggs cooked right into it out of the whey from the hrudka. It was sooo delicious with the taste of that sweet whey! The eggs should have been colored red but we didn't have time to mess with the natural dyes our family requires to get a deep red so he just put them in there un-dyed. He also made a paska with a cross and a braided decoration on top. Those turned out very pretty as well. I'm sorry I didn't get pictures of that. His kulich didn't quite get finished so we left that at home, which was ok because we still must have tried 5 others as all the baskets were opened and shared. All in all, we ended up with 3 baskets to fit all the meats, breads and cheese and misc stuff that everyone requested. One basket was just for Philip with his SCD foods and he had a great time digging in for all he could eat from it.

All that complete, we put the kids to bed after supper (slightly earlier than the usual bedtime) and I went off to take a nap. Ben was set to have his alarm go off at 10:45 and Tad was in it for the long haul. I had done all my pregnant body could handle and put myself to bed around 8:45. Tad woke me from a very sound sleep and announced that it was 11:45 - the service had started 15 minutes earlier and we still had to get everyone up and dressed! We managed to make it out of the house by 12:15 (am, that is) and arrived at church just in time to find everyone outside knocking on the door to get back into the church after the procession. We were terribly disappointed to have missed the entire first part of the service, including the glorious transition from the dark vigil to the Paschal celebration, but it is a nice thing about the Orthodox church that one can arrive 45 minutes late and still be there just in time for the last 3 hours of the service. (Although we did give Pani Chris and some of the others a bit of a scare as they once had a family not make it to the Pascha service due to a baby who arrived in the world 4 weeks early.)

All the children brought sleeping bags and pillows and were sprawled out in the back of the room where we worship. In spite of their comfy sleeping quarters, every one of them stayed awake the entire time except for our Philip who had been told he was going to sleep in church so sleep in church he did (sometimes that autistic mind comes in handy). Even Nathan and Nehemiah, probably the youngest two there, managed to stay awake until they were plopped into their own cribs at home.

What a joy-filled service! The choir was full of life and song and Fr. Greg didn't stop smiling the entire night. He censed us again and again with the incense shouting, "Christ is risen!" and we would reply, "Indeed He is risen!" To which he would echo the same in Ukrainian. We didn't quite get the Ukrainian response - maybe next year. His joy was infectious and kindled by the constant repetition of the Paschal hymn - Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death and upon those in the tombs bestowing life! Never before have I experienced an Easter celebration so full of the promise of life. Reminded again and again of Christ's victory over hell and the sickness of sin, of his trampling down of death, we cannot help but be gloriously pulled from the tomb ourselves along with our ancestors Adam and Eve. It is the celebration of my favorite holy icon and Christ my super hero has arrived to save the day!

The traditional sermon of St. Chrysostom gave me great comfort at having arrived late with our family:

If any have laboured long in fasting,
Let him now receive his recompense. (that line's for you Ben - it's almost time for MEAT!)
If any have wrought from the first hour,
Let him today receive his just reward.
If any have come at the third hour,
Let him with thankfulness keep the feast.
If any have arrived at the sixth hour,
Let him have no misgivings;
Because he shall in nowise be deprived therefore.
If any have delayed until the ninth hour,
Let him draw near, fearing nothing.
And if any have tarried even until the eleventh hour,
Let him, also, be not alarmed at his tardiness.

By the time Fr. Greg read off the eleventh hour, I had the point - no use crying over our tardiness, Christ had still redeemed us and we are still invited to share in His victory!

After the blessing of the bread and the eggs, we retreated to the back of the room where the Pascha baskets were waiting for us. Fr. Greg read out the blessing including the blessing of the flesh-meat and the curdled milk (although he did substitute cheese for that). I got such a kick out of hearing the flesh-meat blessed. After so long a time without meat there was no doubt about what we were about to consume. If you can see the clock in the picture it does indeed read 3:00 am. At shortly after 3:00 we all sat down and broke our fast together and it was a wonderful family meal. It was about 5:00 am by the time we staggered home, got everybody shuffled back into bed and settled down for the "night". The Lord is merciful to provide such a rich feast for the body, the mind and the soul on this glorious celebration of His Resurrection!

Hrudka

2008-04-24T23:33:00.004-04:00

How'd I do? It looks quite a bit like a brain in this picture but I did give it a little taste and it is yummy! I had a really hard time getting the exposure right - I guess it's too shiny, I don't know. I got the recipe from another Ortho Homeschooler and I impressed everyone at the service tonight with the fact that I made a rookie attempt. Wait until they see Tad's various breads!

12 eggs
1 quart milk
1 cup white sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 pinch ground nutmeg

1. In an electric mixer, beat the eggs until mixed well.

2. Transfer the eggs to a double boiler and stir in milk, sugar, vanilla and
nutmeg. Cook over a medium heat for 30 minutes. Use a metal slotted spoon
and constantly stir the bottom of the pan to prevent scorching.

3. When the mixture looks like cooked scrambled eggs, pour it carefully into
a cheesecloth-lined colander. Carefully gather the ends of the cheesecloth
in your hands and pull them together until the cheese forms into a ball. Tie
the cheesecloth tightly at the top of the ball. Tie the cheesecloth ends
over a faucet or to the handle of a kitchen cabinet (place a bowl under to
catch the whey dripping down) and let hang for about 3 hours.

4. Untie the cleesecloth and wrap the cheesecloth ball in plastic wrap
before refrigerating. The cheese will keep for about a week. Slice and
serve.

Bible Believin'

2008-04-24T15:25:00.001-04:00

I attended the service of Great and Holy Thursday Evening by myself. If ever there was a question of the Orthodox church being "bible believing" this service should settle it once and for all. I don't think I've ever been as immersed in scripture in one sitting as I was this evening during the chanting of the twelve Gospel readings of the Holy Passion of Jesus Christ. And if its fundamental bible truths you want, well then, look no further. It doesn't get more fundamental than the Gospel proclaimed loudly and long. The Orthodox Holy Week is proving to be one beautiful service after another, leading the believer right through the passion of Christ, the betrayal of Christ by Judas, the mourning and comforting of Mary - it's all packed in there complete with incense and processions and enough personal reflection to keep a mind mulling things over until the next Great Lent.

After the service, Fr. Greg was busied with taking down the altar and the iconostasis to stash it away in our closet and the rest of us were sitting at the table chatting. More specifically, I was getting some more last minute instructions on the packing of a Pascha basket. Suddenly, Fr. Greg stopped what he was doing, strode over to the table and stared off in my direction in what Tad terms as his Rasputin-esque look (not all that familiar with Russian history, I will just say that he can appear to have a startlingly piercing look in his eyes at times - this being one of those times). The he announced in a loud voice "Mary!" to which we all stopped and looked wonderingly at each other, not sure of what vice or ignorance I was about to be cured. He continued on with an explanation of the Levitical priesthood and the priest's duties during the high holy feast of Yom Kippur during which time the priest would enter the holy of holies to sprinkle the altar with the blood of atonement. Should he do anything wrong, he would be immediately struck dead and so a string was tied to him in order to pull him out from behind the curtain of the temple without anyone else needlessly entering the holy of holies. None of this was new information to me and I wondered what in the world made this all so important that he had to stop everything and tell me about it. Then he went on to say, "And so, in order for those outside the curtain to tell if the priest was still alive and performing his duties, bells would be sewn to his vestments...Thus, the bells on Vladyka's vestments."

It all suddenly came clear that he was simply responding to my earlier blog post about the bishop's visits and one of the many questions I had raised in that post. Fr. Greg then went on to explain further, "I spoke with the bishop and he said to me, 'You be sure to answer all her questions.'" So not only did the bishop read my blog before his visit, but apparently he's continuing to check up on me....No pressure here on this catechumen...so, bishop, rest assured that Fr. Greg is taking good care of us and our questions!

The Mysterion Of Unction

2008-04-23T23:53:00.000-04:00

That was the name for this evening's service which was absolutely beautiful. For those in the charismatic circles, that's a healing service folks - although it didn't look anything like any healing service I'd ever attended before. The focus of the service was a table which replaced the icon in the aisle area for our little church space. On the table was a bowl of sand with a jar of oil in the middle which was surrounded by 7 plain beeswax candles. The service involved the chanting of psalms and a long prayer as each of the 7 candles was lit. The final part of the service was the actual administering of the sacrament of unction for all the faithful (Orthodox, that is). Two men held up the gospel book over the heads of the people as they came forward and had the oil painted onto their forehead and each hand with a little paintbrush the priest held.

It was a lot of prayers and thoughtful reflection on the state of our souls. The aim is repentance and the actual anointing with oil is a sign of the greatest healing the Great Physician can give us - that of the forgiveness of the sickness of sin. There were no guitars and nobody singing verse after verse of praise choruses. People were anointed but the prayer was short and simple, no catchers necessary - no praying in tongues, no laying on of hands - just plain, simple, humble prayer. I noticed that about the house blessing also when Fr. Greg came to our house. It was so straight forward. He walked through the house, he prayed, he splattered holy water on every possible surface (the dog and the bird weren't all that thrilled about being considered a possible surface) and then he expected that the house would be clean, free from bondage, protected by our Lord and His angels. It's the simple expectation that grabs me about the Orthodox. They pour out their souls into psalms, scriptures, chants that walk them through the gospel truths and then they simply expect that God will do what He says He's going to do. The reflection is on the worshiper. It is my job as I worship to inwardly draw myself closer to the Lord. It is God's job to show up. I don't have to invoke His presence, wave my arms until I "feel" Him draw near, pronounce visions of angels and saints (heck, look around you - everyone can see the angels and saints all over the place!) and then be disappointed when what *I* did wasn't enough. My only job is to turn a penitent heart to my Lord and expect Him to be the Living Word, a God of His Word.

After that service tonight I finally understood the times Christ said that it is more difficult to forgive sins than to heal. Not that I didn't understand the basic concept but I didn't get what one had to do with the other. I realized after this evening that sin *is* the sickness. Physical ailing is only a secondary condition to the separation of our souls from our Lord. All the gyrations we did in the charismatic church to "get" the Holy Spirit, to "call Him down" I think were part of the sickness, a spiritual pride that we actually had anything to do with the movement of God according to His word and His promises already made. It seems the Orthodox spend a lot of time looking inward and in the process find Christ already dwelling within them. It is a simple expectation, then, that Christ, once discovered in the beating of our own heart, would spill out His love to all those around us.

This had to be hardest thing we've done yet as catechumens. We showed up with the whole family and we all had broken hearts. If ever we needed unction - healing - it was tonight as we grieve the loss of Noah. But it was denied to us since we have not yet professed the Orthodox faith. I know that Fr. Greg was similarly grieved to be the hand that issued denial. But I'm hoping to use it as an opportunity to continue to place my mind within my heart and seek out Christ there. All it requires is simple expectation that God will be God and Redemption is coming...

A Visit from our Archpastor

2008-04-20T19:48:00.007-04:00

We had a visit from our bishop today, which also fell on Palm Sunday. The Ukrainians apparently have a hard time getting a hold of palms, so they celebrate Willow Sunday by handing out pussy willow stems to all the kids to use as swords instead of the traditional palm fronds of my former Christian experience. It seems like every Sunday in the Orthodox church is another experience for celebrating something new in the faith.

I have to admit to being a bit leary of a bishop. In our recent experience the bishops we grew close to and followed after left the church and, in their leaving, the bishops we found ourselves bound to did little to gain our trust and affection. I know that bishops are human and fall prey to the same temptations of humanity as the rest of us and if that were the only scenario at play in our mistrust of bishops, I would chastise myself and remain true to my stand under their authority. However, the bishops in the CEC did more than the usual dabbling in various sin areas (although there was plenty of that as well). They redefined the church. That is church with a small "c" as the only place in which they hold much authority to define anything is within their own communion of the CEC. An Orthodox bishop, however, is a different matter entirely. Everything they do defines the Church and illustrates her long history. There are so many questions I have after today about all the ways in which he was doing this - questions about the bells and the little rugs that got shoved under his feet, the thing he carried in lieu of the crosier I'm accustomed to seeing in a bishop's hands, the crown and I'm sure even the buttons on his vestments reflect some truth about the Church. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure exactly what the bishop himself represents to the Orthodox. In the RC church as well as the CEC the bishop is the vicar of Christ. He has a special chair to sit in reserved only for his visits (haha - no such need for that in the Orthodox church!). He is the icon of Christ to the body of Christ. But I get the feeling an Orthodox bishop plays an entirely different role.

I'm afraid maybe I was even a bit rude to the bishop in my fear of growing close even though he seemed to be a man to whom one could grow quite close. He was kind, personable, humble, quiet. He was a man there for the people. He didn't just spend time with us. He listened. He spoke with the children and he cared about what they had to say. He cared about his priests. He didn't have an aura about him of over-blown authority and he didn't say anything to redefine the church or trap us into guilt. Maybe I'm even allowing myself to like him...

I do know I love this picture. I had no intention of standing behind the bishop, he showed up after we were all set up for the picture, completely rearranged the children and put himself, Fr. Dan and Fr. Greg right there in the middle of all the people. I look at this picture and I see what is becoming our new family. I see Peggy the choir director who is always a light in my week and an encouragement to my closet Tenor husband. I see Ginny who bakes beautiful cakes and has a personality just as sweet. I see 2 year old Teddy's Yaya who I felt comfortable enough to tease today about the day she made him stumble to the kitchen for a wet rag on his face for falling asleep during Divine Liturgy (now *that's* hard core!) and what I don't see is Mr. Wawa because he is leaning next to Clifford taking pictures. I see a group of people we are really growing to know and love and, in spite of my Episcopal Anxiety, I know that we are finding a Home.

Check out These Blogs

2008-04-20T14:53:00.004-04:00

Well, how cool is this? I came across an Ortho homeschooling Mom who is also a foodie and an artist. Check out her blogs! She's now on my favorites list!

The Ikon As Scripture - Some Random Thoughts

2008-04-07T21:51:00.014-04:00

I've been reading a wonderful, eye-opening book by Archbishop Lazar Puhalo called the Ikon As Scripture. Noting my recent interest in iconography, our priest passed it on to me calling it his "new favorite" book and I can see why. I'm a little more than half way through it but I've already come across some pretty profound insights and so I thought I'd share them as I go. The most striking was the labeling of one my fondest childhood Sunday School room images as the "Antichrist". Recognize this picture? I think it hung on the wall of every Sunday school room I ever entered and served as thought fodder for those moments when staring at the walls suddenly seemed much more interesting than singing one more round of Jesus Loves Me complete with hand gestures. Archbishop Lazar labels it in his book " 'New Age' Cult Style Christ. A type of Antichrist" He goes on to explain that in this picture, "which [is] very popular at this time, we see, not the God-man, Jesus Christ, but a California cult leader. He is sensuous, sexual, beguiling - a combination of Robert Redford and Charles Manson. [This] portrayal represents everything that Christ is not, and nothing that He is. They are simply pictures of an antichrist - a pretender in the place of Jesus Christ." Holy Cow, he's right!! There is not much of the divine to be discerned from this image. It is wholly a human portrayal with nothing of the Divine within it. Archbishop Lazar is quick to point out that if Christ is ever portrayed as anything less than Human AND Divine, then the portrayal is heretical. It tells us a lie about the identity of Jesus Christ. He must never be portrayed as Divine without His human qualities or as human without His Divinity....chew on that one a while....

On a completely different note, I was also fascinated by his explanation of reverse perspective in iconography. I suppose this is elementary to anyone vaguely familiar with icons but to the novice it was a wonderful new discovery. Basically speaking, rather than the picture on the icon beginning at the flat surface of the icon and ending somewhere in the distant background, the perspective is reversed so that the image begins in the back of the icon and actually ends somewhere outside the flat surface within the personal space of the viewer. For example, in this icon of the raising of Lazarus, I become a rather distant observer of Lazarus' exodus from his rotting tomb. However, in this one I am included as a guest at the far side of the table at the Passover meal with Christ.

Here I am placed alongside Judas as he gives Christ the kiss of betrayal (and thus the Orthodox fast on Wednesdays to show their connection to that kiss through the sickness of sin as exemplified by Judas right before and after the Passover meal) and, probably the one that moved me the most was realizing that in this icon, I become one of the mourners, the reverse perspective of the icon placing me practically on top of Christ's prone body and as one with the women who mourned his death. If you're having trouble figuring this out, try following the lines of the background structures. They will usually point you in the right direction.

Another point that struck me thus far (and JT as well when I explained it to him the other day) is the placement of the Theotokos and the Christ icons on either side of the Royal Door of the iconostasis. Again, this may be an elementary understanding of any Orthodox practitioner but it was all new to me. Archbishop Lazar pointed out that the Theotokos, marking the beginning of our understanding of Christ's humanity and salvation on the left and the Christ icon on the right marking His second coming and establishment of His kingdom leaves the Now in the center of the Royal Door. Each time the priest comes between the 2 icons he is marking our faith as it stands in the now. The Theotokos represents the Alpha and the Christ icon represents the Omega - the Beginning and the End - so that all that happens for the sake of the church militant gathered for the Liturgy is the working out of our salvation in the Now. Just think about that next time you're at Divine Liturgy (assuming my layman's explanation of it makes any sense whatsoever).

The last point I wanted to share was regarding this icon which should look familiar to anyone who has stepped foot in an Orthodox church as it is generally found on the East wall overlooking the altar. The Theotokos of the sign is an icon which was originally found painted on the walls of the catacombs (thus the curved East wall over the altar) and overlooking the tombs of the saints. The altar for the eucharistic celebration within the catacombs would be set up under the watchful eye of the Theotokos and on top of a burial site of a martyr or Christian deceased. Thus, in the "modern" churches, the Theotokos overlooks the altar on which is placed the antimension, a cloth with the relic of a martyr sewn into it. I was struck by the connection, once again, between the modern celebration of the Liturgy and its ancient roots in the early Christian practices.

I'm sure there will be more insights as I finish this book (hoping to get through it before Pascha). I'm finding it a great way to explore Orthodox traditions and learn more about the Divine Liturgy.

Conversations with the Heterodox...

2008-04-03T23:04:00.002-04:00

I'm still uncomfortable with the term heterodox. I suppose there's still enough of the Evangelical Christian in me to recognize that it's just not *nice* to tell everybody else they are wrong...but, well...truth is, if they aren't Orthodox, they just aren't orthodox. In the CEC we loved to throw that word orthodox around and we've since realized that none of us really had any idea what it *meant*. I've had many, many conversations with my friends and acquaintances lately since we've become catechumens. They generally go something like this:

So you aren't in the CEC anymore?

No, we're currently catechumens in the Eastern Orthodox church.

Silence...

Long silence....

We're going to a Ukrainian Orthodox church.

Do they speak English?

Yes. All the services are in English, although the priest is Ukrainian.

Oh. Is that Catholic?

You mean Roman Catholic?

Um, I guess. Is that like the Catholic church?

Well, it's what the Roman Catholic church was before they were Roman Catholic.

Really? (I can see the thought processes churning trying to imagine church history actually happening before the 95 theses)

Are they charismatic?

Here it's my turn to pause and smile to myself. Well, yes. It is the most charismatic church I have ever attended but it is not charismatic in any way I've ever experienced before in my life.

Hm. How so? Do they speak in tongues?

No, not generally, but the Holy Spirit is more "present" in the Divine Liturgy than I have ever before experienced.

Oh. Well are they bible believing?

Here I think to myself they *wrote* the bible but I try to say something more accessible like: Absolutely. They have been worshiping with the scriptures since the very time the canon of scriptures was being decided upon by the earliest church councils.

Do you see where this is heading? It's like two English speaking individuals trying to talk to each other in Spanish and Russian. We have a common language but it's of virtually no use here. The mainline Protestant has no context for understanding Orthodoxy and the Orthodox have no context for understanding the Protestant world. As a convert I sometimes feel like an archaeologist explaining an ancient truth to the modern world. American culture is so steeped in Protestantism and has such a short history (spend a moment in any European country and you'll soon feel like a babe as an American) that a Christian faith rooted in the beginning in remote Mediterranean cultures, continuing practically uninterrupted for 2, 000 years and not centered in the need to Reform and Rebel has no place in our mindset. But I want people to understand. I want them to see the beauty and the richness and the complexity and the simplicity of it all. And so the conversations will continue but I still don't like the word heterodox....

Presanctified Liturgy Revisited

2008-03-27T22:55:00.003-04:00

I had enough yesterday. With Adora down for the count all three of the little ones are out of whack and there was constant screaming all day long (beginning at 1:00 in the morning for a half hour). It was really Tad's turn to go to Liturgy but he got home, took one look at my frazzled face and said, "You look like someone who needs to sit in a quiet church service." He couldn't see my backside go, my retreat was so hasty.

I got to Fr. Greg's house (nothing like Church in a Box revisited) and the ladies got to chatting about the new wall color and then Fr. Greg shooed us in to begin the liturgy and a few minutes into I realized I had to go...in that pregnant sort of way. Problem is, I *love* the Presanctified Liturgy. The tunes are beautiful and they flow on and on through the psalms. I couldn't bring myself to leave the room and relieve my now aching bladder. I would look ahead and think, "Oh, I don't want to miss that" and then a few minutes later I would think, "Oh, this part is so beautiful. I'll go after this." And then it got to the point where if I left Fr. Greg would have no catechumen to call forward for the prayers for the catechumens so I had to stay at least that long. Finally, I could stand it no longer. The people went through the prayers for the catechumens, I stepped back into my place and Fr. Greg chanted, "Depart all catechumens!" So I did....(but I came back...)

Blessed Wester to All

2008-03-23T22:21:00.002-04:00

Since the Orthodox don't celebrate the Easter feast - Pascha - until next month, we decided to distinguish between the two by celebrating Wester with my family today. (East)er vs. (West)er - get it?! It was actually kind of nice to be able to separate our little family celebration from the larger family celebration. Our kids weren't already tired out, candied up and churched to death when we got to Muffy's house for the annual cousin's Easter egg hunt. It was a nice, laid back time - we did break our fast with ice cream for dinner. That was so tasty although the kids were a bit disappointed that they couldn't break their fast with some MEAT. We did call Tad's folks with our annual round of the Alleluiah song. The kids are getting much better at it and we now have enough voices to actually sound like a small choir. That's a tradition I've always loved and I hope at least one of our children will think to teach it to their family and call up their dad each Easter....

So for those of you on the Western calendar - have a joyous Easter season! For those of us on the Eastern calendar, we'll be slogging through 5 more weeks of Great Lent....

Orthodoxy Sunday

2008-03-21T22:34:00.000-04:00

Last Sunday we had the rare occasion to have church canceled due to Fr. Greg's health. We enjoyed sleeping in a bit then went through the morning prayers together but it was a particularly disappointing occasion since we had been looking forward to our first celebration of the Triumph of Orthodoxy. We knew we were going to have to borrow some icons from church since we only have a small handful in the house but we wanted the children to at least experience processing with an icon and learning a bit of the Orthodox history. We had waffled a bit about going to a Pan-Orthodox Service in the evening but that was clinched when we found out we'd be missing out on our local celebration. So that evening we filled the van and drove about an hour south. We arrived a little late and ended up finding enough seats for all of us (sort of - we were still in two rows) right up front. This turned out to a be a real blessing since the children got an up-close look at the goings on.

There were about a dozen priests and a couple of deacons on the altar from many different jurisdictions. I didn't realize the import of this until afterwards when the hosting priest took the time to introduce each priest individually. There were representatives there from at least the Greek, Russian and Antiochian jurisdictions and others we can't remember. Of course, the Ukrainians would have been represented had Fr. Greg felt a bit better. The highlight was seeing each priest process around the perimeter of the church with their icons in hand. The procession was led by a couple of alter servers bearing candles and two altar servers carrying ornately decorated circular icons on poles - they looked quite a bit like iconopops to me but what do I know. I have to admit, though, that when I saw the back side of them as the procession climbed back up onto the altar I was literally left breathless at the cherubim pictured on the backs. The Orthodox think of everything.

One of these days I'm going to go to one of these services and not be either exhausted beyond myself or distracted by children for more than half the service so I'll eventually have a much better grasp of what is going on. But for this service I did gain a general sense of being surrounded by the great saints of the faith. When I saw those cherubim I knew something Heavenly and Holy was at play in the universe and I was awed and humbled to be a small part of it. The priests almost looked childlike as they carried their church's patron saints around in the procession. Their faces showed their love for the service and their gratitude that Orthodoxy and her icons have survived the trials of history.

Rite of Forgiveness and Cheesefare Sunday

2008-03-11T22:40:00.003-04:00

We picked a doozy of a day for our first Sunday as catechumens. The children (well, most of them) enjoyed the attention it drew when we stepped forward during the prayers for the catechumens. They weren't sure which way to face (I'll have to tell them when in doubt in the Orthodox church, face an icon - it's bound to be facing east) but once we got all that figured out we managed to move in and out of our places fairly smoothly. Fr. Greg assured me on our way back to our places that we did *not* have to leave but could remain for the rest of the Liturgy. But the real focus of the day was yet to come. There were several things going on, not the least of which was the 1 hour time change which had us getting up earlier already. Also, since we rent space from a school, the school was in need of the room where we meet for Divine Liturgy and all had to be out and packed up by noon. This meant that Matins was canceled, and Divine Liturgy moved to a half hour earlier than usual in order to make room for Forgiveness Vespers and the Rite of Forgiveness.

It seemed to me that we were whipping through the Divine Liturgy. I don't know if Fr. Greg and the choir intentionally moved a bit faster or if the time constraints were weighing on people - or, maybe just maybe the Liturgy no longer seems as long to me - but it seemed like no time at all before the end of Divine Liturgy. We shifted directly into Forgiveness Vespers which is usually said in the evening but, as I said before, we were short on time and space is limited for this church in a box. It was difficult for me and for the kids to shift our focus to this short service since it occurred at a time when we would normally be heading for the bathroom and a snack. They were about half way through it before my mind made the shift and I was able to focus on the service.

Vespers was followed by the Rite of Forgiveness, a wonderful tradition that actually manages to allow time and ceremony for every member of the church to seek and grant forgiveness to every other member of the church. We were instructed to form a line and then stand in front of each person, beginning with Fr. Greg and his family, make the sign of the cross and a metania (sweeping the hand towards the floor in a semi-bow) then ask for the person to forgive any offense committed by you against him in the past year. They (hopefully) offer forgiveness to you and then repeat the process in reverse at which time you grant forgiveness and move on to the next person.

It was a beautiful time. JT and Ben participated reluctantly but made it through just fine. We waffled about whether or not we would require their participation and when it came down to it, I just silently prayed and gently guided them into the line in spite of the looks of desperation they were shooting me. Noah and Nate wandered around until somebody picked them up and carried them from person to person. John Michael and David tried to stick with it but I think the whole thing seemed very odd to them. Ruth was completely traumatized by all the expectations and did little more than stand next to me with "the stare" on her face. Miriam was precious. She stood on the other side of me and asked over and over again with great sincerity "Will you forgive me?" I just can't think of much she could possibly need forgiveness for and she was so full of the Spirit. Philip was the only one who latched on to the entire routine, down to the metanias (which he executed with quite a bit of grace I thought). We had it a bit easy (I hope) since we've only had but a couple of months to offend these people. Since this is done once a year, the ritual was to include any offenses committed over the past year. Many people came to us and asked, instead, to forgive anything over "the past two months", or "since the short time you've been with us". One friendly man used it as a learning opportunity to teach the kids to cross themselves like Orthodox instead of Romans (push, not pull). Unfortunately I think that got a bit confusing since most of them were confused anyway and he was facing them, so getting them to do his opposite was a losing battle. It seemed like such an intimate family time and I was so blessed that our family was included.

This also marked Cheese Fare Sunday and the last day to consume dairy before the Great Lent fast began today. Unfortunately, as a church we didn't celebrate Cheese Fare as we had Meat Fare - with a great feasting upon the impending forbidden foods - so we had our own celebration that evening, wiping out the remainder of our supply of Breyer's ice cream. I'm not too sure with what we'll replace it during Great Lent, maybe fruit salad.

Bible Study

2008-03-07T20:15:00.004-05:00

After months of trying I finally made it to a bible study the other evening. The first time I went it had been canceled and we weren't on the notification list (that has since been fixed). Then we all got sick and then it was Tad's turn to try and then...and then...and then...our life seems to be filled with and then's. So finally I was able to go. Even at that, there were enough "and then's" to make me about 1/2 hour late but, well, it is an Orthodox bible study...I didn't miss that much I don't think. There were five other people sitting around the dining room table with our brand spankin' new Orthodox Study Bibles. One of the five was our hostess' grandmother who only spoke Ukrainian but had a wonderful, warm smile and wasn't happy until she had refilled my glass with water. At one point she was consulted in Ukrainian about an old Ukrainian proverb that Fr. Greg remembered but she didn't quite get the gist and shared a sung prayer about her guardian angel instead. I was just glad someone could speak with her and understand. I really love being in an ethnic community when their ethnic is showing. It made me slightly wistful (again) to think of my own PA Dutch heritage passing slowly away.

Now I've been to..I don't know...a gobzillion bible studies in my life. But this one had me stymied. Everything about Orthodoxy is so different from anything I've encountered in the church before that I figured my insights on the book of Galatians would be a bit off the mark. So I kept my mouth shut...until I was asked to read, that is. Now at that point I was a a bit stuck. The Orthodox prefer to chant the readings during Divine Liturgy with as even a tone as possible so as to keep the reader from relaying his own interpretation of the scripture. But what about in a bible study? Normally I would gather up all my lectoring and dramatic reading experience and give the listeners a nice flow of verbiage and inflection to chew upon. But what do I do now? I chose to tone it a down a bit but just was not able bring myself to read it in any kind of flat manner. I'm sure I'm the only one who noticed and cared but it brought home to me just one more little aspect of Orthodoxy.

Then we came to the end of the book of Galatians and the end of the evening's study. Fr. Greg announced, "Let us pray" and everyone stood up. They proceeded to chat for a few more minutes and I thought perhaps I had heard him wrong - maybe there wouldn't be a closing prayer after all - until suddenly everyone turned around and looked, I thought, at me. Now this was an interesting turn of events. I stood there awkwardly for a moment until it occurred to me that maybe it was the old everyone's-actually-looking-past- me-at-something-else trick. So I also turned to see the family's icon corner toward which all were facing in order to face East to pray. Aha! I mumbled along as best as I could all the prayers that are beginning to sound familiar and feel more like home. It was a good evening but next time I think I'd like to bring Tad along. It's good to have someone else feeling just as awkward and new alongside me.

The Catechumen Journey Begins

2008-03-06T23:15:00.004-05:00

Well, we did it. We told Fr. Greg we are ready to become catechumens....big sigh.... I think I almost saw him do a jig step on his way out our front door. I suppose this will now involve various catechism sessions for us and for JT and Ben as well. This preparation will lead up to our chrismation as a family.

We're ok with the first part of the liturgy having to do with the catechumens. Each Sunday we will now be asked to step forward after the readings and the homily and the prayers for the deceased. I'm excited to have the prayers of the people as we go through this process and I like the idea of bowing our heads and praying... It's the next part that gets a bit iffy. When the priest begins to chant

Priest:: All ye catechumens, depart! Depart, ye catechumens! All ye that are catechumens, depart! Let no catechumens remain! But let us who are of the faithful, again and again, in peace pray to the Lord.

Fr. Greg assured us we won't have to make a hasty exit into the parking lot not to return again until the following Sunday whence we can once again stay in the worship until we bow our heads and submit to the prayers of the congregation. This part of the liturgy was intended for the completely uninitiated, unbaptized folk but it has been the butt of many a private joke between Tad and me and probably the one thing that has kept us the most humble as we contemplate taking this step. I'll admit anytime the subject has come up one of us will erupt into a loud chanting of our own rendition ,"Catechumens must leave now! All catechumens will leave and not stay for another minute! There will be no catechumens remaining and we will chant this until all catechumens have left the room! Let there be not one catechumen remaining hiding under chairs or kissing the icons! There goes one now! Pursue the catechumen into the parking lot! In peace pray to the Lord!"

The Resurrection of Christ

2008-03-03T23:51:00.005-05:00

I love this icon. There is a writing of it in the Orthodox study bible that I love even more than this rendering but the basic idea is the same. Honestly, I've never understood the crucifixion quite as well as I'm beginning to grasp it from the EO perspective. I love how this icon makes Jesus almost look like a Super Hero. In the rendering in the study bible, Jesus' robe is bit more fluid and his legs more sprawling over the chasm of hell - give him a cape and he looks like he could just fly off to anywhere he wants. Also in that rendering, Satan is deeper down in the pit and bound quite tightly - not so mobile as this depiction. That makes me think of the final scene of every episode of Scooby Doo I've ever seen which has the villain sprawled on the ground tied and gagged by the gang of do-gooders. Then they pull off the mask and say "Aha! We knew it was you all along!" This icon makes me think of that moment. Jesus has just pulled the mask off of Satan and is announcing, "See! He's the bad guy! I've saved you from him!" He's surrounded by his supporting cast of Old Testament heroes and saints who are now free to dwell in the Heavenly Kingdom with him. He has Adam and Eve by the wrists, pulling them out once and for all from the Chasm of Sin.

I've spent years trying to relate to the Stations of the Cross. I just can't glean a whole lot of anything out of that in spite of a lot of years of trying. But a few moments spent meditating on this icon and I get it...Jesus is my Super Hero. He's rescued me from the pit. His powers are above all else. Yes, in this life there is suffering and tribulation but just this once I want to try to think more like a swooning and helpless Lois Lane flying along in the rescuing hands of a caped hero....

What a Hoot!

2008-02-25T23:04:00.002-05:00

Philip has been playing basketball with the "Discovery League" for about the past year. Since he plays with our (practically) neighbor friend Michael we had gotten into the habit of having him picked up and transported to his practices by Mike's parents. So it's been a while since I'd been to the little gym at the local elementary school but since Mike is just playing on Wednesday nights now, I had to take Philip myself.

We walked into the school where we noticed Melvin, a 20 something year old man staring out the window waiting for...well, he just seemed to be waiting and watching...for something. Once through the door we were immediately greeted by Mary, a very friendly older teen with some yellowish-black goo stuck to her front teeth who latched on to me immediately.

Oh hi. I don't know you. Do you ever come here?

Yes, I'm Philip's mom. He usually comes with Michael.

Oh. Yeah. Is that your son?

Yes, that's my son Philip.

Oh! (she touches my belly) You're having a baby! I like babies! When will you be having the baby?

The baby's due in June.

Oh! Is it a boy or a girl?

It's a girl.

Philip, you're going to have a baby girl!

I sit down - Mary sits down so close to me her left thigh is practically in my lap.

I like basketball. I've been coming here but we couldn't come here for a while. It's been a long time. The coach said we can't come when the school is closed. The school has been closed. So we can't come when the school is closed. My mom explained that to me. Did you know that? We can't play basketball when the school is closed. But if we did basketball someplace where it isn't a school we could do basketball because it wouldn't be closed like a school. It's just because we play basketball in a school.

It went on like this for several more minutes while Heather, another late teenish young lady with down syndrome called out to Melvin from time to time

Melvin, stay here! Don't go anywhere Melvin.

I don't think Melvin was planning to move.

Finally 7:00 rolled around, the little Discovery Team kids wandered out of the gym, the coach arrived and Philip and his friends were free to shoot some hoops. Phlip was the first one on the court, zigging and zagging with a zeal obviously intended to receive some attention. It didn't gain much attention. The coach's son was too busy bouncing the basketball off his knee and his head in front of one of the moms who clapped appreciatively which was acknowledged by the performer with a deep bow and a high five.

Meanwhile another mom was cheering loudly for her son who seemed to have some proprioceptive issues. He would make an attempt at a shot, then stagger across the court to retrieve the ball. He actually managed 4 baskets in a row - apparently an unprecedented feat for him - each of which were met with enthusiastic whoops from his mom.

Another 20 year old entered the gym and was tossed a practice ball. His processing time was a bit slow so it took him a full minute, about 5 random vocalizations and a series of cryptic hand gestures to realize that he had a ball in hand and should maybe do something with it. He licked it then carried it to the other side of the court.

They spent the first half of the session in practice and then played a scrimmage for the last half. Philip got to be on the team without the annoying yellow pinnies (watching these poor folks try to navigate four random holes, a head, two arms and a waist is almost physically painful). He's definitely the fastest one on the court which is probably the fuel for his NBA aspirations. Fortunately, the coach has been doing this a long time and understands the unique dynamics in Discovery League Basketball. He's made up some of his own rules - like the one that says you have to pass the ball 4 times before you shoot. And usually you have to pass the ball to the person assigned to you by the coach. Then there's the no blocking rule. Philip prides himself in his ability to knock the ball out of other players' hands - I guess he hasn't caught on to that rule yet. Traveling is a non-rule. Following that one requires far more coordination than any of the players can handle. And shooting a basket is a Big Deal. Plenty of time is always allowed for all the players and each and every shot is met with appropriate cheers or consolations from the parents on the sidelines. I don't think there's a limit to the number of attempts allowed at scoring a basket. Philip usually makes it in within the first one or two when he's granted the ball which really does put him in the category of top scorer - even more fuel for his NBA dreams.

I had plumb forgotten how much fun these games are to watch. All the players really give their all and they are so kind to each other. High fives all around follow just about every play whether or not it was a good one. All the parents are happy to relate to all the kids - not just their own. We all understand how valuable that attention is and we all understand when someone else's kid does something completely odd or inappropriate. We are a subset of people who have learned to Take Things In Stride. I'm looking forward to the rest of the season. Discovery Hoops are a real hoot!

Metropolitan KALLISTOS Ware

2008-02-20T23:06:00.001-05:00

(Tad noticed a distinct likeness to Obi Wan Kenobi - ya think?)

Tad caught wind of a mini-pre-Lenten retreat going on at the Greek Orthodox cathedral in Baltimore on Saturday. He went ahead and signed us both up once he realized who the speaker would be. He was very excited for the chance to actually hear in person someone whose works he'd read in seminary and which he continued to reference thereafter. Unfortunately, I was exhausted that day and had trouble staying focused but I did very much enjoy our day at the cathedral.

I found myself already thinking like a purist in the midst of the beautiful sanctuary - complete with very Western stained glass windows, a huge pipe organ in the front and...gasp...pews! What is Orthodoxy coming to?! It was, however, neat to see the gorgeous iconostasis and the front wall lined with more traditional icons and candle boxes. And the Great Door made for a grand entrance as it was opened wide and the bishop stepped through.

He is a wonderfully engaging speaker. After all my Anglophobia coming out of the CEC, however, it took me some time to get over his British accent. I was hoping for something a bit more...Eastern European I guess (especially surrounded as we were by some very Greek-looking folks).

He hit on some basic teachings of Orthodox theology of the Holy Spirit. Never once did he mention the word charismatic and yet he described a vibrant, very alive and important aspect of Orthodoxy - and thus, of Jesus. Of course his teaching was upheld by both scripture and plenty of quotes from the church fathers. He had some rather amusing anecdotes to share as well which is what made him particularly fun to hear. My mind is a muddle about the specific teachings - I have a terrible memory for these things - so I'll just have to settle with describing my general impressions of the day.

I don't know how many of these types of things I've been to in my lifetime but this was an Orthodox first for us and we felt a bit out of place. I loved the richness of the ethnicities as several jurisdictions joined together for the event and yet the Antiochian church was represented by some very not-very-Antiochian-looking folks. Since many of them were from Holy Cross I am guessing there were quite a few Western converts in the audience as well. I'm looking forward to continuing along this path. The Orthodox are people just like the Lutherans and Presbyterians and Episcopalians I hung out with throughout my childhood and early adulthood - just people doing church together - and, yet, Orthodoxy adds something slightly different to the mix. The way of thinking ventures down a different path than the ones I've trodden thus far and the ethnic mix gives the whole experience an other-worldly feel. The longer it takes me to unravel this whole experience, the happier I think I'll be. If I never get to the end of it before I die, I will have lived a full life exploring the depths of the faith. There really is no better occupation than that, I suppose.