I've made a mistake. Now what?

One thing I'm realizing in writing my way through the month of October, unpacking the Catholic Church's teachings on sex and marriage, is how many people out there have found themselves in the oh-so-familiar position of begin on the wrong side of those teachings.

In other words, having sinned.

First off the good news: YOU AND EVERYBODY ELSE WHO EVER INHABITED THE PLANET, the Blessed Mother excluded.

Including me.

Oh, how very much I belong in this camp. The camp of regret and heartache and anger and remorse and resentment toward God and a Church that would ask me to not do the thing which I had just done, because it would hurt me. And then it did hurt me. And so I was doubly mad.

So where does that leave someone who has sinned?

Well, hopefully, in line for confession.

Honestly, it's that simple. And it's that difficult.

The practice of reconciliation is essential for the health and wellbeing of any successful relationship. How much more essential is it to our relationship with God? And how much more effective?

Catholics go to confession to repair the relationship between the Creator and the creature. We go to admit (and this takes humility) "I screwed up. I did the thing you warned me against. And I'm sorry. I'll try not to do it again. But You have to help me."

And you know what God says, every time?

I forgive you.

Read the account of the prodigal son in Luke's gospel and you'll get a perfect, simple and profound explanation of the Sacrament of Confession.

But, but, you might be thinking...my sin is too great. God can't handle the magnitude of my screw up.

Yes, He can. The same way He's handled it for every other sinner and saint (often one and the same) who've roamed this earth. There's nothing He can't handle.

God can handle abortion.

God can handle a sexual homosexual relationship.

God can handle an extramarital affair.

God can handle prostitution.

God can handle vasectomies and tubal ligations.

God can handle an IUD.

God can handle the Morning After pill.

God can handle sex trafficking.

God can handle a pornography addiction.

God can handle abuse.

God can handle divorce.

God can handle murder.

And God can handle you.

There's nothing you've done He can't (and won't) forgive, if you are willing to come to Him and ask for it. And that's the entire premise of the Gospel right there, isn't it.

He died for you. And He rose again for you. And He founded His Church to help carry you to Him. And He entrusted the Church with His laws, with His best plan for your life. And every time you stray from that plan, He's ready to welcome you back.

Every time.

So if you've had an abortion, do not despair.

If you've cheated on your spouse, do not give up and walk away.

If you're addicted to pornography and want so badly to believe the cultural lie that it's harmless and healthy and completely normal...listen to the small, still voice in the back of your mind that's telling you differently. And come to Jesus. He longs to rescue us from our sins.

The reason the Church teaches anything about anything at all is out of love. That includes in a particularly powerful way Her teachings about sex and marriage.

The "rules" and the "restrictions" are all there to protect us, and to call us back into relationship with God when we fall short.

And we all do. All.of.us.

That doesn't mean the Church is wrong.

Pornography reaching epidemic proportions doesn't mean the Church is wrong.

Birth control being practiced both in the pews and by the culture at large doesn't mean the Church is wrong.

Abortion on demand available in most places and for any reason doesn't mean the Church is wrong.

Homosexual relationships being recognized as marriages in 31 out of 50 states in the US doesn't mean the Church is wrong.

And the idea that you did x or y or z or even all three together and you might as well just accept yourself as "that kind of person" and walk away from Jesus because He doesn't want you and He doesn't accept you and His Church sure as hell doesn't want you around...

That's dead wrong.

The Church is your home. Jesus Christ crucified and resurrected is your savior.

And if you've screwed up a hundred times, He is all the more your savior.

Sometimes the more a soul has suffered, the more a soul is capable of loving. And the more profound the conversion to holiness. Think of St. Paul. Think of St. Augustine.

It's never too late.

I hope you'll read everything I've written so far this month with that in mind, and everything else I'm going to write for the remainder of the month.

"Catholic doctrine and discipline may be walls; but they are the walls of a playground." -G.K. Chesterton

Click here to read the rest of the series.

Suicide is not dignified

So there's a lot of crazy stuff trending online this week. Lots of pain. Lots of suffering. I hope you'll forgive this slightly tangential but definitely related contribution to my 31 days series.

One of the saddest things I've read is the story of beautiful Brittany Maynard. 29 years old. Newlywed. Terminal brain cancer. You've probably read her story. If you haven't, I'll give you a minute to click over. Then go ahead and read this and this, while you're at it.

She's really sick. She's been given a death sentence, basically. And she has, in the face of unimaginable suffering and terror, decided to take matters into her own hands through the hands of her doctor and end her life via assisted suicide rather than face down the specter of the unknown.

On some level I get it. She's been given this horrific prognosis and has been told in exacting detail how heinous her suffering will be. The interviews she has given paint the picture of a woman used to being in control all her life, and her doctors have told her she will inevitably lose that, along with her life. Who wouldn't be afraid?

What I'm mostly struggling with is the reaction to Brittany's story in the media, and on social media.

Scrolling through the comments on the pieces I've read about her this week I'm most struck by the pervasive sense of fear and, God forgive me, cowardice imbued in so many of them.

We put animals down when they're in pain, humans deserve the same right.

It's a basic human right to have the chance to die with dignity. (Dignity here being defined as controlled, on one's own terms)

I hope I'll be that brave when the time comes.

Good for her, she deserves to choose the hour and the day.

While my heart is breaking for Brittany and her husband, I can't help but feel sickened and enraged by the massive outpouring of support for the proposed suicide of a fellow human being. This woman has announced to the world that she intends to kill herself in order to avoid the tragic, wasting consequences of her hideous disease, and the world is cheering her on.

Listen, this is madness. This is evil incarnate. This is the very epitome of the culture of death. 

In celebrating her "right" to end her life, she is being used as a pawn to advance an agenda that claims to bestow "dignity" and "compassion" on circumstances already fraught with suffering and pain.

This woman is dying. She quite possibly is suffering from mental illness from the effects of her disease on top of it all. And we're racking up likes and shares all over social media, gushing about bravery and compassion and strength.

Is this the same culture that mourned the death of Robin Williams en masse just last month? Was his suicide not heralded as brave because his illness was depression and not cancer? How has the conversation pivoted so dramatically in such a short time?

This woman is walking in her final weeks, perhaps her final days, and rather than serving her in her time of greatest need, the world is clamoring to hasten her demise.

There is nothing compassionate about giving someone the tools to end their own life.

But we live in a world that recoils from suffering, that sees no meaning in the cross.

Brittany's life has meaning. And her death will have meaning, too. Christ crucified and resurrected guarantees this.

But to celebrate death, to tout death as the cure for her terrible illness...it is the least humane of all possible options. And her husband, her poor, brokenhearted and newly-wedded husband. He is standing by his bride's side and watching her announce, to the world, that she's taking her own life before cancer can take it from her. And he's cheering her on.

It's not supposed to end like that.

I am not judging Britanny Maynard. God knows she is carrying a heavy cross, and I pray that she will experience a change of heart and a conversion to Christ. But I am judging a culture that would jump up and down with excitement at the idea of a person having the right to choose the moment and the means of their own death and would call it brave.

That's not brave.

May God have mercy on her and on her family. And may her husband recall his wedding vows, freshly pledged, promising faithfulness in sickness and in health.

Don't do it, Brittany. Every moment of your life has meaning, and your suffering is not in vain. You have a right to be here. Every moment of the life you have been given is a gift, and nobody has the right to take it from you.

Not even you.

Read the rest of the series here.

Why can't Catholics get married outside?

This one's kind of a softball compared with the past couple days, but I am exhausted from the pace of this thing. Like what the h was I thinking committing myself to 31 days of posting about not things like toddlers peeing under the coffee table (happened) or how to make frozen yogurt paleo (answer: eat it fast enough you can pretend it didn't happen. Ahem.)

Anyway, here's a softer, gentler post for today. Church weddings - what's the big deal?

I've heard all the arguments about the mountains being God's cathedrals and the ocean being His swimming pool, or something along those lines, and I'll heartily concur that nature powerfully reveals God to man, and that there is something awe-inspiring and reverent about being in the great outdoors.

But here's the deal. A Catholic wedding, the birth of a Christian marriage, is a Sacramental affair. And Sacraments, when at all possible, belong within the consecrated boundaries of a church.

A church building is not just a building to Catholics, you see. Like the Jews of the Old Testament we revere the place where God dwells in a tangible way, where He is truly present. He is of course present everywhere, as the author of all being, but He has chosen to dwell in a particular way (and a deeply humiliating way, when you think about it) in the physical form of bread. I'm talking, of course, about the Eucharist.

The Eucharist, Jesus Christ incarnate in the humble forms of bread and wine, is the heart of the Church. And the Eucharist hidden in the tabernacle (tiny gold box, center of the church, marked by a red, lit candle) is at the heart of a church building.

Since Catholics don't actually get married by a priest (he receives their vows as a witness. it's the couple themselves who administer the vows to one another) it's essential that they exchange their vows in the presence of the High Priest, the Eucharistic Jesus, present to them in a powerful and tangible way in the tabernacle. Yes, the priest (or deacon) is there to officiate the wedding ceremony, in one sense. But it is Jesus who receives our pledge our fidelity to our spouse. It is Jesus who extends the grace to make marriage a Sacrament. And it is in Jesus' house, aka a church, where we go to receive this Sacrament.

Could a couple be married outside (literally, like in a field) the Catholic church and still have a valid marriage? Yep. But it's not ideal. It would of course be a different matter under situations of duress, like during wartime or political unrest/religious persecution, or when it's not possible to get to a church, but the desire to have a unique seaside ceremony punctuated by a dolphin salute and fireworks is not sufficient reason to go outside.

Does that make sense?

So it's not a matter of being stuffy or backwards or old fashioned, at least not in the sense that we're just not yet hip to the all inclusive splendor of a Sandal's nuptial package...it's that we have a very sacramental understanding of the Sacrament of marriage. And certain Sacraments - Baptism, Reconciliation, First Communion, Marriage, Ordination...take place within the physical boundaries of a church, a consecrated space set aside for worship.

Whew. I'm over and out. See you tomorrow.

Maybe I'll just leaf them up there

Hey guys, I'm squeezing in an unrelated post today because my favorite person on the internet invited me to a party and, well, pumpkins.

If you're looking for the latest installment in the Catholics Do What? series scroll down to the post just before this one, and be sure to come back later this afterno...oh screw it, evening, and read today's post. For now, sit back and enjoy the underwhelming domesticity that is my seasonal decor.

I want to tell you a little story. It begins, as these things often do, with a girl and her shopping cart, and a pumpkin display at the local Walmart.

Actually, I don't believe any story worth telling has ever begun thus. But I will press on. Last month when Fall was still a dream in my heart and a smudgy, overly enthusiastic chalkboard advertisement in the Starbucks drive through, I happened upon the most perfectly curated collection of pumpkins and winter squashes the world has ever seen.

There were tiny white ones. Large, perfectly rounded fleshy ones. Weird little gourds with multiple color bands covered in warts and blemishes and looking so completely unlovable as to become intensely, intensely desirable. Screaming like a little girl in the Littlest Pet Shop aisle at Target, I started throwing pumpkins into my cart with reckless abandon, piling them around my astonished 2 year old and eventually evicting him from the body of the cart so as to claim his prime real estate for my newly adopted family of gourds.

Later that afternoon upon our return home, while the groceries languished in the mini van and the children milled about in a mild confusion, I raced to the front porch, my arms loaded down with autumn bounty which I lovingly arranged in a Pinteresting fall porchscape. Actually, I just grouped them in the corner with a decorative stump and then fist pumped the air while yelling "hell yes, first pumpkins on the block!"

I heard snickering and whirled around to see my still-unmet neighbors from across the street and one house over, disappearing into their garage from whence I suspect we shall never see their return. But that is one fewer loaf of pumpkin spice bread on my to do list, so win/win.

Hail no.

I'm totally kidding actually, I don't really bake. But I did yell that about my pumpkins, and a neighbor did laugh, perhaps coincidentally.

When Bonnie asked me to participate in this little blog carnival I scanned the list of other names and said to myself, self, if you want to come to this party, you're going to have to play to your strengths. Namely, hyperbole (see above), pumpkin arrangement, thrifting, and minimalism.

So I give to you bold new installation piece:

thrifted, minimalist fall decor + grocery store pumpkins: a love story

My little apple sticks close to his tree.

Basically I threw those pumpkins out there and just let the spirit move me. And oh how it moved.

I think it's important to be true to your seasonal spirit animal. Mine is a crouching lioness. She waits, crouching, eyeing her prey and biding her time, and when the moment is right, she acts. The sale is made, the tree is decked, and she demurely licks the blood from her paws and returns to her state of understated elegance. 

Also, she's not as flashy as a male lion. Understated, intentional touches of beauty. And blood.

Why am I the way I am? I just don't even...

Moving on.

I think it's worth noting that everything seasonal in these pictures was thrifted, except for batman and the cereal. And I feel amazing about that.

I love you, bumpy gourd.

I just cannot quit those damn decorative gourds. Can not. Will not. (Pardon the linked language.)

Pinecones imported from the one and only Monument, Colorado. 

And I have to admit that even though I'm doing yet another freaking Whole 30 (day 4, feed me ice cream) I can't stop myself from buying pumpkin flavored contraband for the children.

I just love the possibility inherent in Fall. The feeling that the holidays are just around the riverbed and that all will be most well by imbibing in a densely caloric hot beverage in a festive gold mug.

Which cannot be microwaved or dishwashed. Causing me to question their overall safety...

And so to you, dearest season of my heart, I throw open my doors and say bring on the decorative gourds and the skinny jeans and the tallest boots in all the land, and I will be ready with my scarf.

Well, and Batman.

Be sure to check out Bonnie at A Knotted Life, our beautiful hostess, along with the other fabulous women of fall: 

Svellerella

Two O's Plus More

Team Whittaker

House for Five

Clan Donaldson

Fountains of Home

This Ain't the Lyceum

Surviving Our Blessings

Better than Eden

I'm contracepting because I'm being responsible

So you're going to have a baby. Congratulations! Now let's sit down and discuss how much that's going to cost you, exactly. I think the going rate is like 300K from birth through college, but I don't really have time to google it. So be my guest. Anyway it's a crapload of money, so I hope you've got a great job, a banging 401K, and an unlimited slush fund for plastic surgery, because also, your midsection is headed down the road to ruin.

I've heard over and over again from plenty of people all the reasons why having more kids is stupid/too expensive/too dangerous/not possible in their situation.

I don't want to make light of suffering and real, incredible hardships. Are there couples who absolutely cannot find another penny to afford another morsel of bread or drop of milk to sustain the lives of their children and should therefore be conscientiously choosing to postpone or avoid the conception of additional offspring. Absolutely. All over the world. In our county too. There are couples who are suffering and whose families are under incredible strain, both financial and otherwise.

And to these couples the Church champions the ONLY sane, compassionate and 100% failsafe approach, and that is abstinence during times of fertility.

To act otherwise, to do the thing with your body that says "I am open to life, I am doing the thing which has the potential to create new life" and then to be shocked or saddened or horrified when life finds a way (as it often does, Dr. Grant) is madness.

Here's the bottom line here: when there is a circumstance that would make having another baby absolutely positively bat shit out of control crazy ... you should not have sex, which is how babies are made.

Now let's talk about the less serious issues driving the "we just can't have any (more)" narrative. I get it, kids are expensive. The economy is crazy. Life is uncertain.

But that's just it. Life is uncertain. You never know what the next year or hell, even the next day is going to bring. There's just no way to entirely leverage your risk and manage your exposure in this life. And that includes the realm of family planning.

Now, the Church does not encourage wild, unfettered pop-em-till-you-drop copulation at the expense of the mother's (or father's, or family's) health or sanity. That's a tired old stereotype that was probably born out of some poor pastoral care and some truth. But we have such beautiful, life giving and profoundly freeing teachings on sex and love and marriage literally at our fingertips. It's breathtaking.

(Go ahead and google "Humanae Vitae" right now. I'll wait. Okay, now leave it open in your window and promise you'll read it next. It's like 5 pages long.)

Meanwhile, we are trying so desperately and so futilely to control and to manage and to arrange every single aspect of our lives - it's as though God is not present at all, or at best is some doddering deadbeat of a deity who grumps at us from the Old Testament and shouts "thou shalt not's" at us from his celestial perch.

The Church's teaching on contraception is not a restriction. It is not a "thou shalt not." It is an invitation to freedom. To wild trust and abandonment. To another way of living, to a fuller way of living. It is, quite simply, utterly counter cultural and completely unreasonable.

But whose standard of reason are we applying?

The world's?

How's that working out for us?

I'm extending an invitation to you to take a second look. To open your mind to the possibility that it might not be completely stupid to take the the Bride of Christ, the Catholic Church, at her word when she invites her children to not do the thing which will harm them. Jesus asks hard things of us when we take up our crosses and follow him. Sometimes the hard things are shaped like babies. And sometimes they're shaped like seasons of abstinence and self denial. And sometimes they're shaped like little pink pill cases nestled into the bottom of the bathroom trash can, opening up a new chapter and a new season of possibility.

Never say never.

Read the rest of the series here.