Journeys of a Catholic Poster Girl

OK y’all who read Jane Austen books and never know when “Michaelmas” is?
It’s today. As in Sept. 29th, the feast of St. Michael (and Raphael and Gabriel, but given that St. Michael is sort of the one who beat Satan in battle, the day gets named after him :).
So when Mrs. Bennett tells Mr. Bingley that she heard “he’d meant to give the place up entirely by Michaelmas,” you now know what the heck she’s talking about.
Don’t worry. You’ll thank me later. Now go watch Pride and Prejudice.

And I guess since my middle name is Michele this might count as a feast/name day for me. I’m not sure when St. Emily’s feast day is, but St. Therese’s (my confirmation saint) is on Monday. Which is then followed on Oct. 2 by the rest of the Guardian Angels.

Whew.

What a day.

After reading about suffering, etc. from Mother Teresa’s new book, and Mother Angelica’s Little Book, I thought, hey, I’m ready for some more stuff. It’s been light lately, let’s bring it on!

Well, we sure did bring it on. Today was a really, really dark day. And I can’t say I was really all that pious about it.

I was discharged from the hospital (again) on Tuesday afternoon, after Msgr. Funk came to visit around lunch time (he is a great hospital visitor, by the way). Came home, slept, had the home care people come to the house (M&D) to talk about the IV drugs. We did the midnight dose (actually closer to 1), and I went to bed.

Today I was totally in a black mood. Pain/period had something to do with it, but I absolutely could not see any real point in life/living/ my existence in general. I was totally ready to pass on these crosses. So much for “bring it on,” huh? Oh man. I was wallowing in extreme aridity–very much Psalm 22 (”my God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”).

Part of this is due to some issues w/ my doctor’s office, which are best described over at the Bucket. But when I get lung infections, I get pain that goes with it (this is from plueral effusion, apparently, according to Todd, if you’re interested). And while I have a high pain threshold, it’s not that high. That’s why we went to the ER on Saturday night. Well I was having a lot of pain today that wasn’t being handled all that well (the drugs I have make me nauseous, so pick your demon) and I guess that was a real impetus for all sorts of Screwtape-like devils to come in and do their work.

I’m feeling a bit better now, having been reminded by my excellent parents that Screwtape is ever-among us and uses down times like these to undermine our faith, trust and general feelings of love towards God. I’m trying not to let him get to me. But man, it sure is easy to just give in when your body is racked with pain and you’re thinking of lots of ways–several of them probably not Church-sanctioned–to make it go away.

Prayers are helpful. Thanks.

Prayer update, too: my little transplant buddies continue to get better. Thank God for that.

at last. Again…hopefully it lasts longer than 36 hours this time!

My parish priest came to visit right before I was discharged today, and that made me really happy. He is a great priest, and I just love it when he comes to visit. He is very thoughtful and quiet, but also has a great sense of humor. And he offered me his opera tickets since he’s going out of town that weekend (I feel sort of like the trip has “fortuitiously” arisen, but no matter), and I thanked him rather profusely because I have been dying to see La Boheme, which is the opera. Msgr. Funk is, like I said, really nice, a good priest, and he likes our choir music! :)

Sadly I don’t think I’m going to St. Louis for my cousin’s wedding (:-() because I’m on an IV drug course, but I will be here for the parish picnic, if I feel up to going, which should be fun.

Thanks you for prayers–keep them up, please, so that this may only be a nice two week drug course and not have any extra issues–as well as for the prayers for my little buddies. The girl w/ the heart transplant (I’ll call her K) was riding her tricycle down the hallway this morning!

Pour moi.

I’m here in the Resort (for more go to The Bucket) and I am generally frustrated at Certain People who go into “Emily is just crazy mode” when I’m in here and tell me that I Need to calm down and channel my inner Zen. Channeling one’s inner Zen doesn’t really help when red-hot pokers are all over your lungs. But I digress.

I am reading my Mother Angelica book and am trying to remember what she says about suffering, about this is Jesus bringing you to close to Him that He can kiss you. Not that I don’t want Kisses from Jesus…oh well. OK, going to think happy, positive thoughts. How suffering is good. IT brings you closer to Jesus. Souls in purgatory and all that. If this sounds a bit blase, I’m not trying to be. I’m typing through nausea (this is intended to distract me and think on “higher things”), so hopefully it’s working…

Also prayers that my work load just doesn’t explode upon my return would be nice. I can’t do anything about it here, obviously, but I can not totally freak out about it.

Prayer update, though–my little Buddy Ian, who had a heart transplant, went home this morning to his parents and his two big sisters. His mom is due to give birth to his sister, Sophia, in November. Yay! So I am glad he is going home to them. Also, my friend Kennedy is down on C5, after stepping down from the CICU after her (second!) heart transplant. She is one heck of a kid. :)

Sorry for the quiet blog–I was in “the resort” over night, so did not have PC access. All is well, though–we did a bronch and Dr. A decided to keep me overnight to see what grew out, but I’m home on oral antibiotics now.

And good news–one of my little t/ x buddies, Ian, is going home on Monday! He has been in the hospital for about 6 weeks and is definitely ready to fly the coop. Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers about him, and my other buddy, Kennedy, who was supposed to “step down” from the CICU to the regular tx floor today. Yay!

I’ve written about Mother Teresa’s dark night below, but maybe I should write about my own. I mean this is my blog, right? If you’re reading it you must be somewhat interested in me (ha).

I haven’t had many, but I have a few. I guess it’s a consequence of chronic illness, that you’re bound to have a few along the way. There were definitely some, “my God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” moments. Most of these involved being curled up in the fetal position on a hospital gurney, praying desperately for pain to go away (or for a nurse to come in and give me morphine and MAKE it go away…), for the transplant to happen, to be healthy. There were times when I prayed and felt that aridness described so well by the Carmelites, that I was simply just praying to…what? Not nothing. I knew, even if I couldn’t feel, that there was Someone there. I just felt like I was leaving Heavenly voice mails. “Hi, God, it’s me again. Um, call me back. Let me know you’re there. Please.”

Hospital rooms are the epitome of the dark night. For starters, at night, when you’re alone, the rooms really are dark (well, minus the IV pumps, those are always blinking and beeping). Some of the rooms on C5, or on old 5T, have great views of the city skyline, so I would keep my window blinds open if I was in one of those rooms. In a hospital, you feel very, very alone. Sure, during the day no one leaves you alone. People are in and out from about 7 am on. The night shift (the early one, anyway, from 8-11) is a little better, and sometimes you have visitors. But they have to leave. And you’re watching the freeway, seeing people go shopping, go to work, go home to their kids and their spouses and eating real food, having a real life. Hospitals have a way of freezing time. You’re in a bizarre time warp, where everyone is having a life, the world is continuing, and you’re not. I guess it’s sort of like pitting in the Indy 500.

Anyway, you’re in this room, and it’s dark, and sometimes, especially if pain is an issue, I have problems sleeping in hospitals. At least at night, when I’m supposed to sleep. I have no problem asking for a nap at say, 2, when they want to take me down to X-ray. But noooo.

Pain meds are given on a very precise schedule, usually about every four hours. Some nurses are way on top of this and give it to you exactly when needed. Others you have to poke and prod about it. And they have to order it from pharmacy, which is in the Dungeon, which takes forever, which means that pain has time to accumulate. Now I have a high pain tolerance (ask my Mom). But when you’re in the hospital and they’re giving you narcotics, this is Serious Pain. Like pain You Do Not Mess With. And, at night, there isn’t anything to distract you. No one’s there to talk to, reading doesn’t happen, TV is boring (unless you like infomercials, and I’ve usually seen them all by this point). There is nothing but you and pain.

So I would pray. I would try to “offer it up” for whatever–an end to abortion, souls in purgatory, whatever. But eventually I just couldn’t. Prayer was along the lines of “God, just stop the pain. NOW.” And minutes are so slow when you’re waiting. They just crawl. And God is not there. I’m praying to emptiness. I’m alone in the Biblical Wilderness, so to speak.

Sometimes it lasted beyond the night, entire hospitalizations. And even upon going home, I would still feel abandoned, forsaken, forgotten. I knew I wasn’t, but I sure felt like I was.

The Dark Nights can be so long. And I would hang on to verses like “I will hold you in the palm of my hand,” or things like that. The part about the sparrow not being forgotten. Etc.
But you do feel forgotten. And man, is it hard to pray. I’ve never found it hard to believe. But prayer, the talking with God, the feeling that He is there and we are communicating–when that was gone–and it was always gone at the worst times–it was just total letdown.

Such darkness besets me. My entire body aches and cries out for relief, with sharp pains cutting through my torso. It is, at times, unbearable. How long, O Lord, how long? Must I never have relief?

–October 22, 2003

From JP The Great’s General Audience on Wednesday, Sept. 12, 2001 (h/t: Amy)

I cannot begin this audience without expressing my profound sorrow at the terrorist attacks which yesterday brought death and destruction to America, causing thousands of victims and injuring countless people. To the President of the United States and to all American citizens I express my heartfelt sorrow. In the face of such unspeakable horror we cannot but be deeply disturbed. I add my voice to all the voices raised in these hours to express indignant condemnation, and I strongly reiterate that the ways of violence will never lead to genuine solutions to humanity’s problems.

Yesterday was a dark day in the history of humanity, a terrible affront to human dignity. After receiving the news, I followed with intense concern the developing situation, with heartfelt prayers to the Lord. How is it possible to commit acts of such savage cruelty? The human heart has depths from which schemes of unheard-of ferocity sometimes emerge, capable of destroying in a moment the normal daily life of a people. But faith comes to our aid at these times when words seem to fail. Christ’s word is the only one that can give a response to the questions which trouble our spirit. Even if the forces of darkness appear to prevail, those who believe in God know that evil and death do not have the final say. Christian hope is based on this truth; at this time our prayerful trust draws strength from it.

With deeply felt sympathy I address myself to the beloved people of the United States in this moment of distress and consternation, when the courage of so many men and women of good will is being sorely tested. In a special way I reach out to the families of the dead and the injured, and assure them of my spiritual closeness. I entrust to the mercy of the Most High the helpless victims of this tragedy, for whom I offered Mass this morning, invoking upon them eternal rest. May God give courage to the survivors; may he sustain the rescue-workers and the many volunteers who are presently making an enormous effort to cope with such an immense emergency. I ask you, dear brothers and sisters, to join me in prayer for them. Let us beg the Lord that the spiral of hatred and violence will not prevail. May the Blessed Virgin, Mother of Mercy, fill the hearts of all with wise thoughts and peaceful intentions.

 

Today, my heartfelt sympathy is with the American people, subjected yesterday to inhuman terrorist attacks which have taken the lives of thousands of innocent human beings and caused unspeakable sorrow in the hearts of all men and women of good will. Yesterday was indeed a dark day in our history, an appalling offence against peace, a terrible assault against human dignity.

I invite you all to join me in commending the victims of this shocking tragedy to Almighty God’ s eternal love. Let us implore his comfort upon the injured, the families involved, all who are doing their utmost to rescue survivors and help those affected.

I ask God to grant the American people the strength and courage they need at this time of sorrow and trial.

The Holy Father: 

Brothers and Sisters, in great dismay, before the horror of destructive violence, but strong in the faith that has always guided our fathers, we turn to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, salvation of his people, and with the confidence of children, pray that He will come to our aid in these days of mourning and innocent suffering.

Cantor: 

Dominum deprecemur:  Te rogamus, audi nos.

1. For the Churches of the East and the West, and in particular for the Church in the United States of America so that, though humbled by loss and mourning, yet inspired by the Mother of the Lord, strong woman beside the cross of her Son, they may foster the will for reconciliation, peace, and the building of the civilization of love.

2. For all those who bear the name of Christian, so that, in the midst of many persons who are tempted to hatred and doubt, they will be witnesses to the presence of God in history and the victory of Christ over death.

3. For the leaders of nations, so that they will not allow themselves to be guided by hatred and the spirit of retaliation, but may do everything possible to prevent new hatred and death, by bringing forth works of peace.

4. For those who are weeping in sorrow over the loss of relatives and friends, that in this hour of suffering they will not be overcome by sadness, despair and vengeance, but continue to have faith in the victory of good over evil, of life over death.

5. For those suffering and wounded by the terrorist acts, that they may return to stability and health and, appreciating the gift of life, may generously foster the will to contribute to the well being of every human being.

6. For our brothers and sisters who met death in the folly of violence, that they find sure joy and life everlasting in the peace of the Lord, that their death may not be in vain but become a leaven bringing forth a season of brotherhood and collaboration among peoples.

The Holy Father: 

O Lord Jesus, remember our deceased and suffering brothers before your Father.
Remember us also, as we begin to pray with your words:  Pater noster…

O Almighty and merciful God,
you cannot be understood by one who sows discord, you cannot be accepted by one who loves violence:  look upon our painful human condition tried by cruel acts of terror and death, comfort your children and open our hearts to hope, so that our time may again know days of serenity and peace.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.

For the Steelers win today. Especially since it was over That Team Up North.

With the release of Mother Teresa’s new book of letters and writings, a lot of people in the press seem amazed at the discovery of her “dark night,” as if they had never imagined such a thing. Personally, I feel that this is one of the more comforting parts of Catholicism, and it reassures me to know that even God’s chosen (well, OK, what we think of as chosen (saints), since we’re all chosen, technically) experience the absence of God.

Maybe it’s something with the name–both Teresa of Avila and Therese of Lisieux experience the dark night. In fact, in The Interior Castle, Teresa talks about it being one of the steps on the way to perfecting your soul. Only souls that are truly close to God, she says, can experience the dark night. If you’re not spiritually “advanced” enough, then you can’t.  God knows you won’t be able to handle the “aridness,” the dryness, the feelings of abandonment, that come with the Dark Night St. John of the Cross wrote about (OK, maybe it’s a Carmelite thing. :-)).  Jesus on the cross cried out, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Taken from Psalm 22) The theme of God’s silence, or abandonment, is a very common one. The fact that Mother Teresa experienced it really shouldn’t surprise us.

Teresa of Avila was right when she wrote about it. You have to have a certain spiritual maturity to face the Dark Night. Otherwise the faith will just wither and fade, like the seed that falls amidst the thorns in Jesus’ parable. It’s great when you feel that communion with God, the sense thatyou and He are one, that He is communicating with you and you feel his presence. But most of the time, it’s not there, right? We’re at Mass and we’re not feeling that joy, the Presence of God. We’re feeling irritation because the people in front of us came in late, a baby’s crying, kids are dropping the hymnals all over the place and their parents are oblivious, people are wearing tank tops and cut-offs, etc. We aren’t focused on Mass. Or we’re praying, and we’re not feeling anything come back. It’s like we’re in empty space. That’s when it’s so easy to give up and think that God doesn’t care. But we have to pray, to go on, to have faith, even when we aren’t sure God is listening or present. That’s what faith is, right? “We walk by faith, and not by sight.” “Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet believe.”

We haven’t seen. But we have to believe. It’s the only way to truly come to God.

I really shouldn’t be surprised by these things, and yet I am…

I don’t really watch that much TV–House, Desperate Housewives, a little bit of Supernanny, and Grey’s Anatomy (although based on last season’s ridiculousness, that might be up in the air. But I digress). My complaint/question/query has to do with the latter.

In preparation for the new season (and the release of season 3 on DVD), I’ve been recapping season 2. (Hey, labor Day, long weekend…I needed some chill time here. :)) So last night I watched and episode where the OB/GYN has a patient with seven kids, who is being admitted for a C-section. After her husband and kids go to find some ice cream, Rose (the patient) tells Addison (the doctor) that she wants to have her tubes tied while she’s having the C-section, because she doesn’t want any more kids. Addison suggests birth control. Rose says (shock!) she’s Catholic and it won’t work, because her husband doesn’t think you can “pick and choose” what you believe. And, of course, the husband is then cast as eeevil, forcing all these children on his poor wife, who’s been hospitalized for dehydration, exhaustion, etc. Rose also says that if her husband foudn out about the pills or the tube tying, she’d lose her marriage (to which Karev, the blunt to the point of pain surgical resident, says, “why? He won’t divorce you.”).

So as usual, faithful Catholics are seen as crazy people and Catholics, in general, just see women as baby-making machines. She talks about how they didn’t have sex between their seventh child and the current one for three years. Um, sorry, but that’s not what the Church means by NFP. You abstain during periods of “fertility”, and last time I checked, a woman wasn’t fertile for 3 years STRAIGHT.Um, hello. Basic biology tells us that. It also seems like this woman is a little wimpy and not talking to her husband about her concerns. They should talk to a priest, a pastoral minister, whatever, and get the real deal on NFP. You are NOT just supposed to have kids wily-nily. That’s not what the Church teaches.

Of course the show doesn’t deal with any of this. Rose tries to blame their issues on their religion and her husband, but Karev says that she doesn’t get to “blame her husband and pin this on the Pope.” (He got a lot of good lines in this episode)

Addison does tie her tubes, over Karev’s objections, and the husband may sue the hospital because Karev told him that the “complication” (as Addison and Rose put it) wasn’t really a complication. I don’t think anything ever came of it, but I’m not totally sure.

Just another instance of how Catholics get misunderstood in the media all the time. And the thing is, it’s not even innocent anymore. I’m not expecting to find EWTN stuff on ABC on Thursday nights. I’m really not. But some accuracy, something other than working off blatant stereotypes without evening checking to see what the real position is, would be nice.