Well, everything, at this point. I'm teetering on 8 weeks pregnant as I write this and have been sick.as.a.dog. this time around. I don't know if it's the fact that I'm actively engaged in biological warfare with an 11 month old all day long or that this baby on board is perhaps of the fairer sex (just a guess), but I feel awful. Like, shouldn't-a-had-that-last shot-of tequila-ohmahgawd-where's-the-trash-can awful.
Such is the price which new life demands. I can't see this little one yet - though I do have his/her sweet older brother to look to for a sneak peak of what may be to come - but I already feel such love for this child. Fear, certainly. An overwhelmed sense of responsibility, that too. But over and above the other emotional responses there is love. And the sense of gratitude and wonder that 'I get to do this again!' coupled with 'I'm doing this again?!'
So there it is. Joey's a big brother, and our lives will never be the same.
God is good.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Picking Rotten Fruit
What do contraception, pedophiles and gay 'marriage' all have in common? (Besides the ability to make one's stomach churn.)
I'll give you a hint: trees.
Three different species of rotting fruit, all plucked from the same evil tree of selfishness.
Three wildly variant forms of sexual deviance, one root sin:
Pride.
Pride that asserts one's subjective reality over objective reality. Pride that places personal happiness and 'fulfillment' ahead of the good of the other. Pride that seeks to subvert, destroy and remake truth for the sake of an imagined personal 'good' at the cost of real goodness.
At first blush, predators who seek sexual encounters with children and homosexual adults who seek to enter into 'marriages' with same sex partners might not seem to have too much in common besides an uncommon sexual appetite, but an honest examination of the motivation behind both behaviors reveals an uncomfortable truth.
When we attempt to redefine reality, we have to expect that others will do the same. Gay 'marriage' may be promoted as all about tolerance and love... but in some circles, (widening circles, I might add) so is the notion of 'love' between an innocent child and an adult.
In a disturbing report issued earlier this week, a reporter shed light on a curious conference taking place outside our nation's capital right now. Pedophiles are seeking to destigmatize their deviant, criminal sexual behavior by lobbying the American Psychological Association to declassify pedophilia as a mental illness in the forthcoming edition of the DSM - the 'bible,' if you will, of the mental health world.
This is relevant because it is the same path homosexual activists started down in the late 70's when they lobbied to have homosexuality removed from the third edition of the DSM as an identified psychological condition.
And where exactly does birth control factor into this all?
Well it turns out that everyone is after their own version of 'no strings attached' sex. And if straight, married couples can go on the Pill - which many did for the first time starting in the 1950's and '60's - then why not straight, unmarried couples? Sex, no longer prudishly bound to the constraining, tired and traditional 'construct' of marriage was now fair game for anyone, provided they were 'in love.' (I am well aware that the invention of modern contraception did not single-handedly fuel the sexual revolution. People have been sexually active outside of marriage from time immemorial. The difference is, now it's openly acknowledged and even applauded by a global majority)
Once sex was effectively divorced from marriage by its sterilization, homosexuality - nothing new except in its growing social acceptability - began to creep from the shadows. If sterile, fruitless sex made sense for straight people, than why not for two men? Or two women? Sex, no longer inextricably linked to the possibility of bringing forth new life (in addition to pleasure), became just another method for communication between companions. And who are we to tell anyone with whom they may or may not communicate?
When sex ceases to be primarily about the gift of self, (and, consequently, the gift of life) it becomes primarily a means to self-gratification. And everyone deserves to be gratified. To be satisfied. To be happy. It's one of the last remaining 'virtues' we seem able to agree upon as a culture: happiness. Except sometimes one person's version of 'happiness' turns out to be tantamount to another person's version of 'hell.'
The young girl whose body is used by an older cousin for unspeakable acts of sexual abuse. The toddler whose two 'mommies' special ordered her using hand-picked sperm and cutting edge IVF technology, but who will never know her father. The teenager whose parents divorced during his freshman year of high school, dumping him with relatives while they set out on solo journeys of self discovery to 'find themselves' at a time when he is poised on the precipice of adulthood and in crying need of parental guidance and support. Each of these are the unwilling victim of someone else's pursuit of happiness.
So where does it end?
I would imagine that bestiality and incest will be coming down the pike as the next agenda items in our glorious cultural pursuit of equality. Because if anything goes, then everything goes. And who are we to say otherwise?
I'll give you a hint: trees.
Three different species of rotting fruit, all plucked from the same evil tree of selfishness.
Three wildly variant forms of sexual deviance, one root sin:
Pride.
Pride that asserts one's subjective reality over objective reality. Pride that places personal happiness and 'fulfillment' ahead of the good of the other. Pride that seeks to subvert, destroy and remake truth for the sake of an imagined personal 'good' at the cost of real goodness.
At first blush, predators who seek sexual encounters with children and homosexual adults who seek to enter into 'marriages' with same sex partners might not seem to have too much in common besides an uncommon sexual appetite, but an honest examination of the motivation behind both behaviors reveals an uncomfortable truth.
When we attempt to redefine reality, we have to expect that others will do the same. Gay 'marriage' may be promoted as all about tolerance and love... but in some circles, (widening circles, I might add) so is the notion of 'love' between an innocent child and an adult.
In a disturbing report issued earlier this week, a reporter shed light on a curious conference taking place outside our nation's capital right now. Pedophiles are seeking to destigmatize their deviant, criminal sexual behavior by lobbying the American Psychological Association to declassify pedophilia as a mental illness in the forthcoming edition of the DSM - the 'bible,' if you will, of the mental health world.
This is relevant because it is the same path homosexual activists started down in the late 70's when they lobbied to have homosexuality removed from the third edition of the DSM as an identified psychological condition.
And where exactly does birth control factor into this all?
Well it turns out that everyone is after their own version of 'no strings attached' sex. And if straight, married couples can go on the Pill - which many did for the first time starting in the 1950's and '60's - then why not straight, unmarried couples? Sex, no longer prudishly bound to the constraining, tired and traditional 'construct' of marriage was now fair game for anyone, provided they were 'in love.' (I am well aware that the invention of modern contraception did not single-handedly fuel the sexual revolution. People have been sexually active outside of marriage from time immemorial. The difference is, now it's openly acknowledged and even applauded by a global majority)
Once sex was effectively divorced from marriage by its sterilization, homosexuality - nothing new except in its growing social acceptability - began to creep from the shadows. If sterile, fruitless sex made sense for straight people, than why not for two men? Or two women? Sex, no longer inextricably linked to the possibility of bringing forth new life (in addition to pleasure), became just another method for communication between companions. And who are we to tell anyone with whom they may or may not communicate?
When sex ceases to be primarily about the gift of self, (and, consequently, the gift of life) it becomes primarily a means to self-gratification. And everyone deserves to be gratified. To be satisfied. To be happy. It's one of the last remaining 'virtues' we seem able to agree upon as a culture: happiness. Except sometimes one person's version of 'happiness' turns out to be tantamount to another person's version of 'hell.'
The young girl whose body is used by an older cousin for unspeakable acts of sexual abuse. The toddler whose two 'mommies' special ordered her using hand-picked sperm and cutting edge IVF technology, but who will never know her father. The teenager whose parents divorced during his freshman year of high school, dumping him with relatives while they set out on solo journeys of self discovery to 'find themselves' at a time when he is poised on the precipice of adulthood and in crying need of parental guidance and support. Each of these are the unwilling victim of someone else's pursuit of happiness.
So where does it end?
I would imagine that bestiality and incest will be coming down the pike as the next agenda items in our glorious cultural pursuit of equality. Because if anything goes, then everything goes. And who are we to say otherwise?
As the family goes, so goes the nation and so goes the whole world in which we live.
Bl. John Paul II
Pray for us.
Friday, July 29, 2011
7 (Really) Quick Takes
1. We are unexpectedly moving sooner than I had dared to hope... tomorrow, in fact. And I have my drug-addicted (and apparently parole-violating) next door neighbor to thank. So thank you, Bob the Buffalo... though you probably had a rough night in the drunk tank after the cops busted down your door at midnight, I promise you, you slept better than we did...
2. We are moving into a house. A HOUSE! A house of our very own, with a yard and space to plant a garden that I can watch die and, and... even set up a wading pool. God has a funny way of answering prayers sometimes.
3. My son loves to hear anyone burp, or even pretend to burp. I don't know how he knows that as an eventual adolescent boy he will be required to laugh at said bodily function, but let me tell you, he thinks it is hilarious. Hilarious. Don't even ask how we discovered this.
4. Yesterday me, the boy and the Bob jogger stumbled upon a coyote on our mid-afternoon stroll across the burning wasteland of open space behind our apartment complex. Technically I was on a multi-purpose path through one of Denver's many lovely greenbelts ... but the coyote was in clear, flagrant violation of Denver's leash law and didn't seem one bit sorry. But I bet he was sorry after I growled at him and flailed my arms in most threatening manner. FYI, coyotes are like uglier, dirtier and skinnier versions of wolves... and a lot less aggressive, apparently. Though I am, admittedly, fearsome in my workout gear.
5. 90 Shilling. Go out and buy a 6 pack of O'Dell Brewing Company's 90 Shilling Ale. Tonight. We have rediscovered our affection for this brew after a long hiatus spent dabbling in cheaper, lesser imitations, but no more. If you happen to live in North Pennsylsota and can't get your paws on it... well, that's a shame. A crying shame. Craft breweries are one of Colorado's greatest contributions to this fine nation, and I pity the fool who hasn't imbibed.
6. I am reading this right now and loving it. Every page is causing me to drop the book and sigh and reflect on how very far I have to go in the spiritual journey still... and how very large and wide is God's mercy. I love St. Francis.
7. The following items are necessary to have on hand for any major relocation effort: Sharpies; discarded produce boxes from the grocery store which smell of old bananas; Target bags, scraps of paper towels to wrap delicate items in and then to use to dry tears upon discovery of remains of said item upon arrival; copious amounts of coffee; goldfish crackers to toss on the floor to distract any children who may be present during the operation; wine. Just plenty of wine. Did I miss anything?
Be sure to visit Jen over at Conversion Diary!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Thank you
The lovely woman who distracted me with conversations about baby gates while cutting me yesterday says she is 99.9% convinced that the mystery guest in my knee is 'not anything weird' which is, I believe, the scientific terminology for 'not cancerous.'
Thanks for the prayers, we sure felt them.
AMDG
Thanks for the prayers, we sure felt them.
AMDG
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