Journeys of a Catholic Poster Girl

From First Things: (my emphases in bold)

When Not Aborting Is Immoral

Posted by Keith Pavlischek on September 19, 2008, 4:34 PM

From over on starboard side, Nicholas Provenzo of the Center for the Advancement of Capitalism is “troubled” by the implications of Gov. Sarah Palin’s “decision to knowingly give birth to a child disabled with Down syndrome.” He thinks “it is crucial to reaffirm the morality of aborting a fetus diagnosed with Down syndrome (or by extension, any unborn fetus)—a freedom that anti-abortion advocates seek to deny.” Here’s his line of thinking:  

A parent has a moral obligation to provide for his or her children until these children are equipped to provide for themselves. Because a person afflicted with Down syndrome is only capable of being marginally productive (if at all) and requires constant care and supervision, unless a parent enjoys the wealth to provide for the lifetime of assistance that their child will require, they are essentially stranding the cost of their child’s life upon others.

 (me: So, I guess I shouldn’t be here, right, because, you know, some CF people are only “marginally productive.” Who in the world has the right to say what is and what is not productive? How can we be so callous as to reduce human life to production, to economic terms!?)

 

Meanwhile, on the port side, Paul Ehrlich, author of “The Population Bomb,” treats us to this little thought:

I believe it is immoral and should be illegal for people to have very large numbers of children because they are then co-opting for themselves and their children resources that should be spread elsewhere in the world. You only get a chance to get your fair share. 

To the follow-up question, “How many is ‘very large’”? Ehrlich responds:

The issue is: What is the political position to take? In a country like the United States, we should stop at two. But if you had an ideal situation, you might have a lot of people who have no children at all, and some people who have as many as three or four because they happen to be particularly good parents, and are going to raise their children very well. 

Me: OK, so let’s make this a bit less hypothetical. 

“Let’s stop at two”–that means neither of my parents, both the third child in their families, wouldn’t have been born. 

On my mom’s side, more specifically, that means that my Uncle Tim and my Aunts Sue, Patty, Mary, and Amy would not have been born. Hence I would not have my fantastic aunts and uncles, I would not have my godfather, and I would not have my godson. My grandparents, instead of having 25 grandchildren to love, would have four–Julie, Jeff, Diane and Megan–and four great-grandchildren. 

If, by some miracle, my parents did squeak by, then my little sister would not have been born. Sorry, Mel. Neither would the siblings of many of my friends, especially in the families where the first two children are twins.  

What kind of absolute nonsense is this!? People can have as many kids as they want without subjecting the number to some government entity. Yes, you should be able to take care of the kids you bring into the world. I am not advocating that we all go out and produce like rabbits, here. But NO ONE can tell me or anyone else how many kids to have!

Side note: The social entitlements that the Left so enjoys are funded mainly by–guess what–tax receipts. If you have a growing aging population and a shrinking young population, then you do not have the resources to provide for these massive entitlements, like Social Security and Medicare. Look to Europe–as the birth rate declines, so does their inability to support their massive welfare states. 

The Bible says that Children are a blessing from the Lord–they are a reward! We are to “be fruitful and multiply.” The scathing comments about people with big families, people who trust in God’s providence, and who procreate, are just sickening. 

If I was married I would want at least three kids, and maybe four! I love my big family. I love my siblings. Big families are good training grounds for life. 

This sort of thinking is dangerous and needs to be stopped, pronto. Sure the environment and all that is important, but human beings are more so. 

Something like this.

The beginning:

There is a translation point regarding the optional rite of washing feet (the “Mandatum” or “Command” – whence the word Maundy) on Holy Thursday.

In many places women are invited to have their feet washed.

This is against the Church’s laws which are based on divine revelation Scripture (cf. Matthew 20:28).

Now, this is Fr. Z, so of course he’s got the goods on it. Do read it.
Like the title suggests, this is something I never really thought about. Heck, my mom even had her feet washed one year. But is it indeed a licit practice?

(One of the reasons I probably didn’t think about it was 1) I’ve never been asked, and 2) we’re too busy in choir singing the feet washing song. :))

Something to ponder as we get into Holy Week…

I’ve said a few times on here that Catholicism can be hard. It’s sheer definitiveness can make it that way. But then again, the Cross wasn’t easy, either.

In my life there have a been a few big issues that contrasted what I want with what God wants. The first was birth control.

I want kids–those of you that read regularly know that is NO shock. But with CF, and now transplant, getting pregnant is one of those super-touchy-feely things. You can’t just “get” pregnant. You have to plan it like you’re planning the Omaha Beach invasion. Nurses ask me, pretty matter of course, whether or not I use birth control. It’s sort of a moot point ,regardless, since I don’t have a boyfriend now, but when I was engaged this was a doozy.

Obviously I was not going to use birth control. Fiance OK with this–for awhile. Then we began to fight about it. He didn’t want me to die for a baby. I said I didn’t want to be engaging in sinful behavior. I asked multiple priests whether or not a woman in my condition could use birth control. They said yes. I read the Catechism. It wasn’t quite so malleable (it’s late, but I’ll have the cite later for y’all). And I was torn.

I remember a discussion I had with my best friend about this. I said it really came down to how much I trusted God, didn’t it? Because God doesn’t give us more than I can handle (I did, and still do, believe this). She agreed that it was important to do what God wanted (for the record, she’s Lutheran, so this wasn’t like a fellow Catholic was shooting me the party line.). I prayed. I really agonized over this. And, in the end, it was one of the points that caused our relationship to end.

This has always been a problem with whomever I’ve dated. I don’t normally date casually–life’s too short, you know? So I figure I better stay on God’s good side. But this was an agonizing decision. I didn’t want to give up love. But I didn’t want to go against my faith, which has been my only constant.

The second issue is end of life stuff. Before my transplant, I wrote dozens of letters to people, and planned my funeral. Even if I did get the call, there was no guarantee of surviving major surgery. So I wrote it all down. I chose the “Suffering Servant” passage from Isaiah, the gospel where Jesus raised Lazarus. I chose hymns. And I told my parents that, if I was unable to make decisions for myself, I asked them to do what the Church required. Of course, the excellent Children’s Chaplain (the irreplaceable Fr. Mark) would be able to help them, since he was ministering there at the time. What the Church said, we would do.

Thinking about your own death when you’re 22 is not fun, let me tell you. But I’m glad I did it. It helped me solidify what is really important. Believe me, when I say that Catholicism can be hard, that Christianity can be hard, I know. I’ve struggled with the doctrine too. And for me, I’ve found that submitting to it is the way I find peace.

Everyone has crises of faith, doubts about their lives, their vocations, what God wants from them.

Yesterday was one of those days for me. I had gone to my faith sharing group and we had discussed things like submitting to the will of God, rejoicing in His plan for us, etc. And I kept thinking, “Well what if you desire something–something good, and holy–and you STILL don’t get it? What are you supposed to do then?”

I’ve wanted to be a wife and mother as long as I can remember. I think one of my professors in college had a heart attack when I told her that that’s what I wanted and I wouldn’t be going to law/grad school. It’s what most of the women in my life have done–my aunts, my friends’ mothers, etc. I want that kind of life.

But I also want to be a sister. I feel the calling, the attractiveness of that life. And of course the retreat next month will help me discern more clearly what I feel about this.

But what if I don’t get either? What if the convent doesn’t want me (or doesn’t think I fit) and I never get married? Why do I have these desires in me if they can’t be fulfilled?
So I was a little distraught about all this.

Today, I saw at least three different roses on three different occasions. Yup, I guess God is listening to me–a little.

For the first time in many moons (like, since high school!) I am able to make the St. Lucia buns for St. Lucia (or St. Lucy’s) feast day tomorrow. Yay!

If you have never had these, they are wonderfully sweet and delicious. It’s nice to have a treat on the shortest day of the year (well, at least traditionally. I’m not sure if it actually is the shortest day, scientifically).

My recipe below… (Read on …)

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Paper, even though I am a rather amateur wrapper.

2. Real tree or artificial? Fake.

3. When do you put up the tree? Thanksgiving.

4. When do you take the tree down? Epiphany. When the Christmas season is “over”.

5. Do you like eggnog? Um….haven’t had enough to make a call.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? The Care Bear kitchen set. I was about five and I opened all my gifts, and no kitchen set. We have photos of me looking very bereft. But then,lo and behold, Santa had left in in the basement! Tricky old guy. And we still have parts of it, so it was a very durable gift indeed.

7. Do you have a Nativity scene? Yes. They’re “S’mores” figurines–as in, the baby Jesus is a marshmallow in a graham cracker manager with a chocolate blanket. It’s super cute, but probably not the most reverent.

8. Hardest person to buy for? My mom.

9. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I always receive good stuff.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? REAL CHRISTMAS CARDS, i.e., snail mail. And they go to just about everyone I know.

11. Favorite Christmas Movie? How the Grinch Stole Christmas (both cartoon and live action) and A Christmas Story.

12. When do you start shopping for Christmas? August.

13. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Nope

14. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Peppermint bark and Mom’s Christmas breakfast–sausage and cinnamon rolls. Mmmmmm.

15. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Color!

16. Favorite Christmas song: “O Holy Night”, “O Come, All Ye Faithful”

17. Travel at Christmas or stay home? We stay at home for Christmas day proper now; when I was little we used to have CHristmas at home early (it was AWESOME) then spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in Pittsburgh with relatives. Fantastic. Now Mom’s family all comes down here the 27th and we take over a hotel.

18. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer. Dasher, Dancer, PRancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzer, Rudolph.

19. Angel on the tree top or a star? Angel.

20. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Morning.

21. Most annoying thing about this time of year? People who try to eliminate Christmas carols, creches, etc. from every single place on Earth other than a Church. LET’S GET REAL!

I hope all of you have a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving with your families (and enjoy the bird!).

I am headed off to Pittsburgh to see The Clan momentarily–back on Saturday!

Since October is the month of the Rosary, and Oct. 11 is the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary (followed closely on Oct. 13 by the Feast of Our Lady of Fatima, where her messages were focused quite closely on the Rosary and the importance of its recitation), my church has decided to have rosary said after each Mass during the month of October. We also going to try to do this in May.

I have gone to our 10:15 Mass, which is usually the best attended. The first week, I led the recitation, and about 10 people were there. Not too bad. I’m not sure how many were there last week. For this, I don’t think it’s the  quantity of people that’s important. It’s the fact that we’re doing it at all. It was nice to be saying the rosary in a group, and it felt like we were bathing the church in our rhythmic prayers, helping to prepare the sanctuary, as  it were, for the next Mass. We were seated near the tabernacle, which added to the feeling.

I try to say the rosary daily, and normally I say it silently and alone. Saying it communally was, however, something I grew up with; occasionally we would say the family rosary, and Dad was a big fan of saying a decade or so in the car on the way to school or church.  The rosary has permeated my life and it’s an important devotion for me.

On top of saying it after Mass, my faith sharing group (FSG) has also been saying it at the end of our meetings this month.

It has been said that the rosary is “the weapon.” It is one of the most powerful prayers we have. If you don’t say the rosary regularly, or not at all, this would be a good month to consider doing so. Mother Teresa once wrote that when she was having spiritual difficulty, she would pick up her rosary and say it slowly and deliberately, until the pain had passed or lessened. It is a great way to increase meditation and reflect more deeply on the life of Christ and His Mother. It makes us realize that they truly experienced every human emotion, and know what we are going through here on earth.

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.

I don’t normally talk about this.

Partially because I’m not sure if it technically happened. I mean, I was under the influence of some very, very powerful drugs at the time. I was in a drug-induced coma, fighting a bizarre infection that only one other person in the world had ever had–but we didn’t know that at the time. We didn’t know what was wrong with me. So for two weeks I was in Children’s ICU, in a drug-induced coma, while medical science pumped me full of almost every drug known to Man to figure out what was causing my body to rapidly shut down and infection to rage through my already scarred and battered lungs unchecked.

It was October of 2001. Fears of anthrax and bio-terrorism were alive and well, and I was being treated for those, too. It was, in general, a time of fear, of gloom, of the sense that the world was contracting around us. The Afghan ground war had begun. I was a sophomore in college–19.
I don’t remember precisely when the vision happened. Time in an ICU is very fluid anyway, and this was especially so for me. Previously I had dreamed myself in California, in a beauty pageant, shopping, and as part of a musical, where I had the lead role and was trying to convince my parents to let me quit school to take it.  So visions and fantasies of things that were not happening were quite frequent, and very vivid.

But this was different.

My devotion to Mary has been well-cultivated. My father had a particular devotion to Our Lady of Fatima, and I’ve had a statue of that apparition since I was about 7 years old–Mary on the bush, with Lucia, Francisco and Jacinta kneeling around her, lambs at their sides (they were Portuguese shepard kids). Mary has always played a very large part in my Catholicism. My parents and visitors to my room prayed frequent rosaries, and noted that it seemed to calm my erratic vital signs.

In my dream I was going to Rome (something I have always wanted to do). We were on an airplane en route, and there was, for some reason, a small, dark chapel on board the plane, where confessions were being heard. I was in line, waiting for my turn with the priest.

And then there was a wonderful, radiant light in front of me. I wasn’t on the floor anymore, but hovering slightly above it. It was Our Lady of Grace, my (at that time) favorite image of Mary–the one where she’s in the blue cloak, arms extended, standing on the globe with the snake under her feet (the same image that’s on the Immaculate Medal). There were two angels, one on each side, the Raphelite ones we’re so used to seeing.

She spoke. “It is not your time–your mission has not been fulfilled.” (Yes, she said mission. Not my word.) She said some other things, but, sadly, I don’t remember them. This one sentence is all I remember.

I was filled with an incredible peace and lightness. Happiness. Total acceptance and I seemed to be swimming in grace–it was like her light was inbued with it. Like I could drink it in. It lasted a few more minutes, just her, standing there, with the angels, smiling.  The only other time I ever feel even a touch of that is when I receive the Eucharist at Mass.

I don’t know if it actually happened. I don’t know if the drugs were just working on my psyche. But God works in mysterious ways, even in times when we’re not conscious (literally) of it. It was wonderful and calming and emotional. And even now, when I have bad days or feel like I have been abandoned, I can remember that moment and feel a shadow of that peace and repose that she gave me.

Real or not, it is the greatest gift God has ever given me–the idea that we all have a mission, we will see it through if we simply Trust In Him and do what He asks. All of us are precious and important to Him. And He will lift us up, even from the brink of death (and I am not exaggerating) to come back and serve Him better, to spread His love to His Children.

And that is why, after years of holding this inside and not sharing it, I have felt compelled to write it down and share it with you. I hope that it can help you in your relationship with God in some small way.