Not Quite Hypocrisy: The Spiritually Sensitive and Human Nature

My youngest son is spiritually sensitive.  His thoughts, revelations, prayers, and sensitivities are otherworldly.  There is no doubt in my mind that he has an awareness of the spiritual realm, of God, angels, saints beyond that of the average human, let alone the average child.  He has an amazing awareness of right and wrong, good and evil.  And yet, there are things he says, things he does, and things he likes that has me scratching my head.  How can someone so spiritually sensitive find this or that appealing or entertaining?  How can they not be convicted that this is bad or unhealthy, or not the way of the Lord?

I only need to look to myself.

We all have areas of conviction and scruples that we are sensitive to, while other areas seem to go unchecked.  I wouldn't call it outright hypocrisy, which, to me, is fully knowing something is wrong, but doing it anyway, doing it with excuses why it is ok for you but not for others, or expecting of others what you yourself wouldn't do.  Instead, I would call it spiritual blind spots that haven't been exposed yet, or areas where we haven't grown, or areas of personal scruples.  For example, what may negatively affect one person spiritually may have no affect at all on another.  I may have difficulty reading a fantasy book and find great spiritual struggle if I try to do so, but another may be able to enjoy the fiction without any affect to their conscience at all.

Then, there is the fact that we are humans.  Frail humans who have human natures, sin natures, areas of besetting sins.  We can be spiritually sensitive and still stumble in our humanity.  For example, we may be spiritually sensitive to pornography and the use of lust and sex in entertainment, but indulge in violence in our entertainment, or ignore blasphemy and bad language.  We may feel deeply when someone is sarcastic and avoid being sarcastic ourselves, but indulge in crude jokes.  We may feel strongly about attending church, but waste precious prayer time at home by playing video games.

We are not, and cannot be perfect.  The spiritually sensitive will fall.  The prude, the scrupulous, the careful, the wise, the meek, the gracious, the merciful, the educated...we all fall at some point.  We all have areas of weakness and blindness.

I Gave Christ the Head of the Table

We have our seats around the dining room table.  Our dining room is literally in the center of our house.  It is probably the most used room.  In the center of the dining room is our dining room table, an oval table with 6 chairs, 2 on each side for the children, and one on each end for hubby and me.

When hubby isn't home, his chair can become the catch-all chair, the free-for-all chair.  There are times the poor fellow comes home from work and his chair is covered, or being used by someone else.

Throughout the day with the children, I had assumed position in that chair, eating my meals at the head of the table, and teaching homeschool from that position.  Why not?  In the absence of my spouse, aren't I the authority?

Just the other day I decided to remove myself from that chair completely.  That chair, that spot at the dining room table is for Christ, and for my husband who is the priest of the home, a sort of in persona Christi.  So, when hubby isn't home, that is where Christ sits.  Not me.  Not my kids.  Guests may because the Bible says that being hospitable to others is being hospitable to Him.

As silly as this may sound to some, and as horrifying as it may sound to my evangelical friends and family, I bow and cross myself from time to time as I face or walk past the chair.  It reminds me that Christ has a place in our home, an honored place at the head, and that He is present.  It reminds me that He is there.

I do believe that giving Christ this chair will change our home and family for the better in holiness.  It also gives honor to my husband where honor is due.  When I honor Christ, I honor my husband better.

Two Dreams: One Beautiful, One Bothersome

Last night I had two dreams the involved Catholicism.

The Beautiful:

I was attending Mass, but towards the end I was distracted and being a Martha instead of a Mary.  I think I was shopping for something, and I remember pulling out fabric or a blanket.  Mass had ended at that point and out of the corner of my eye I saw the Father staring at me, arms crossed, foot tapping, but a playful, fatherly half-smile on his face.  I feigned like I didn't see him and busied myself with folding the material and putting it back.  At that point, I "noticed" Father and greeted him.  He smiled and invited me to sit in a pew and talk with him.  I was thrilled and I believe I told him that I had been hoping he'd invite me for a chat.  Indeed, he asked me my religious history.  I began by saying that I was born and baptized Catholic.  When I said that, an applause and cheer arose from around us.  It was other Catholics, some strangers, some people I went to school with.  Father explained how joyful they were at that news.  I said, "I'm a cradle Catholic!" but any conversation with Father was interrupted as my classmates and I started talking.  I don't recall what.

The Bothersome:

I am taken down this quiet residential city street in Amsterdam to this run down, interesting house that was for sale.  I am surprised to find out that that Dave bought it.  I am escorted in, though I never see by who, nor who drove me to the house, nor who narrates the tour.  The house smells, and is really run down, out dated, has a strange floor plan, and is giving me the creeps.  People are working on the house, cleaning it out, but I only really see Dave and my dad.  We make our way to the front of the house and I am particularly interested in the odd shuttered bay window I saw out front.  As I work the shutters, I notice they are broken.  Beyond that room is a narrow staircase up to a loft above the bay window.  It has old lumber in it, but I remark how it would make a nice play room for the kids.

Overall, I am a bit sickened by the house, but Dave eagerly sees the potential.  I pretty much want nothing to do with it until it is cleaned out and repaired, but I feel obligated to participate somehow.  I am overwhelmed, but trying to like it.

I refuse to go upstairs because I am frightened.  The downstairs was frightening enough.

My escort and I return to the rear room.  Here is the main staircase to upstairs and my father and yanking stuff he found hidden in the ceiling over the stairway entrance.  It is a ratty old wig and some other strange clothing.  Apparently, the granny who had lived in the house was really a grampy who had a penchant for dressing like granny.  This really adds to my uneasiness about the house and I say outloud, "this place needs a priest."  I use a post hole digger to pick up the garments and wig to dispose of them.  That's the last I remember.

This bothersome dream had me in prayer wondering what the meaning is.  In a way, I think the house is me.  There are so many ways I can unpack this, but I am falling asleep as I type.

How the Glorious Mysteries Teach Us to Love Mothers and Babies

There is a growing outcry among the deceived that we need to stop having babies to save the planet.  There is a growing bloodbath of aborted babies for the sake of convenience.
There is a growing society that cannot and will not support a larger family.
There is a growing general fear, even among the faithful, of having "too many babies."

Many faithful women have stated that while babies number 1 and 2 are generally met with great cheer, any pregnancy beyond that is met with less enthusiasm to downright disdain.  This is NOT how the faithful should respond.  If we do, we are joining ranks with those deceived and their deceivers that babies are bad.

As I prayed the Joyful Mysteries today, I realized how each mystery teaches us how to love mothers and babies:

First Joyful Mystery:  The Annunciation of the Angel to Mary

News of a pregnancy should be received with grace and a "yes" from the parents.

Second Joyful Mystery:  The Visitation of Mary to St. Elizabeth

Shared news of a pregnancy should be received with great joy and celebration.  Family and Friends ought to embrace and support the mother (and father) like Elizabeth did.

Third Joyful Mystery:  The Nativity of Jesus in Bethlehem

The birth should be supported and celebrated.  The mother's need for rest and "purification" (time to heal from the birth, bond with baby, rest, and get her milk supply and nursing down pat) should be of utmost importance.

Fourth Joyful Mystery:  The Presentation of Jesus to the Temple

The Body of Christ, the Church Family should be a support system, too.  No one in the Church should be negative about this new creation, this baby.

The Fifth Joyful Mystery: The Finding of Jesus in the Temple

The Body of Christ needs to be the "village" that it takes to raise a child.  Proper teachings, prayers, and good examples must be kept.  Community ought to be established to help a baby grow in a safe, loving, Christ-filled environment.

From the Mouths of Babes

My daughter posed this question to me, today:

Mom, if Jesus is perfect and holy, and Mary is His mother, does that mean that she didn't have any pain when she gave birth to him?

So simple a child can understand.  She has never heard this doctrine before and yet she thought of it.

Different Catholic Churches

I'm not sure why, but apparently aesthetics of a church are very important to me and my sense of well-being there.  The older the church and the more traditional, the more content, centered, and reverent I feel there.  I tried a more modern local Catholic church building and I did not like it much at all and wished to be back in the older church building.   In the older church building Adoration is held in the unattractive 1970's chapel off the side of the church.  While I sit there and pray, a part of me wishes I could be in the dark sanctuary, instead.

Maybe I am just selfish or too preferential.  Or maybe there is importance to aesthetics.

When I exit my churches

I feel sad when I exit both the Catholic Church and my Baptist Church, but for different reasons.

I feel sad when I exit the Catholic Church because I am still an outsider.  I belong there, but I don't.  Jesus welcomes me there, but I am not in full communion with Him.  I don't understand it all.  I am not connected, involved, part of the community.  I'm just a visitor and not a family member.

I feel sad when I exit the Baptist Church because I am still an outsider.  I feel like I don't quite belong there.  I also don't feel like Jesus is really there because it feels more like a Christian social club that a church.  It's a fellowship party every Sunday focused so much on the Body that the Head feels ignored.  And they removed the crosses.  I haven't seen one in so long.