Monday, January 30, 2012

Conversion Story, pt. II

(part I of the conversion story is here)
Since the only experience I have with universities is limited to what I lived out on Michigan State University’s campus from 1993-1998, I will make sure that I don’t paint all universities with the same brush.  So when I say that I found college a very hospitable environment for New Age influences, please understand that I mean this only for a particular place during a particular time. 


From the occult “Triple Goddess” bookstore a little ways off campus to the pagan student alliance on it, there was a world of New Age, pagan, occult information at my fingertips.  Now, keep in mind that this was the early 90s, and the Internet was more or less limited to telnet and Gopher.  So when I say “a world of information at my fingertips”, know that my fingers were much shorter 20 years ago than they would be now.  In other words, if I wanted to learn about it, I had to do so through a book or a real live person.

At first, I kept my searches confined to books.  Not quite ready to actually talk to another person, I would spend time at the campus library, reading poorly researched works about ritual prostitution in ancient Babylon, or information on the Celtic pantheon derived from source information of conquering invaders.  I had as little concern for scholarly integrity as many of the authors of these books did, and information derived from New Age novels was viewed as reliable as that from non-fiction.

In other words, at this stage of my spiritual quest, critical analysis was not part of my vocabulary.

Eventually, my one-track reading theme caught the attention of a friend, who had grown up in the area.  She introduced me to the occult bookshop in town, “Triple Goddess”.  Here I was able to get more contemporary literature on all manner of New Agey topics, and for an almost unlimited amount of new material, all I had to do was part with both my money and any desire for responsibly researched, verifiable information.

The hallmark of the New Age movement is a do-it-yourself mentality.  Whatever whim, interest, or fancy strikes you, there is some way to incorporate it into your customized belief system.  Drawn to reincarnation?  Find yourself a past life reader who can tell you who you were previously.  Want to cultivate a friendship with your animal totem?  Grab a book on guided meditation that will take you on a vision quest to do just that.  As the signs posted prominently in the bookshop reminded customers, “Following Your Bliss” was the prime directive.  There was no evidence that apologetics was an area of concern.

Conceivably, a person could continue like this for the rest of their lives, happily moving from one metaphysical practice to another, or from one deity to the next.  Certainly this is what I did for a long while, stopping somewhere until the gnawing sense of emptiness grew unbearable and I started looking for something new to fill it.   I was searching for a way to establish a firm relationship with God, yet paradoxically, the more options I was given to do so, the weaker that relationship became.

Finally, I grew desperate enough to seek out other people; to set down the books to go see what I could find in the fellowship of fellow New Age/pagan/occult/notmembers of Organized Religion.  I went to a meeting of the campus pagan support group, where I met half dozen or so people who should have been my kindred spirits.  I should have felt some connection with them, these folks on a similar journey as I was.  Maybe if we weren’t exactly on the same road, we’d at least be able to shout at each other across the distance.

What I found were six people with six wildly different ideas on everything remotely connected to God.  One woman worshipped an obscure Egyptian goddess who had a name, but which I’ve since forgotten.  This was in stark relief to the only male in attendance, who worshipped a trio of Norse gods, the names of which he insisted were so sacred they could only be revealed to those who had been properly initiated.  There were a few women who worshipped a vague sort of Earth goddess type, and someone who was an atheist, but came to the meetings because no one else would believe that she was in communication with alien life forms.

I was immediately struck by the fact that I wasn’t going to find spiritual guidance here.  What I found was a hodgepodge of religious beliefs not substantially different than what I’d find while waiting at the dentist’s office, or while grocery shopping.  Plus, like payments expected at the dentist or the grocery store, the pagan support group wanted me to cough up money, $20 to cover membership fees.

However, the whole thing wasn’t a wash.  The experience got me thinking about the nature of worship.  After all, to worship something is a pretty big deal.  Even the constant misuse of the word in popular culture can’t water down its meaning completely.  To worship something means to view it in a profound sense of admiration.  You admire the object of worship in a manner that you admire nothing else.  Once I articulated this, fatal cracks in the New Age façade formed.  The nature of pantheons, to which most of the deities in pagan religious structures belong, is a familial one.  That means individual gods and goddesses were created from previous gods and goddesses.  Think about all the Greek myths you learned in school.  There was a family tree there, and you could trace Athena back to Zeus, back to Cronus, back and back, and what you had was a series of creatures.  It seemed foolish to me to admire a created deity in a manner that I admired nothing else, since that deity owed its existence to another entity.  It would be like admiring the Mona Lisa above all other things, even the person whose skill created the painting. Worship, to make any sense at all, had to be directed at the original source.

Most of the pagan gods and goddesses that have any historically documented pedigree can trace their lineage ultimately to some deification of the Earth.  I didn’t need to be a geologist or an astronomer to know that the Earth was a created object as well, and so the trail couldn’t end there.  Where to look next, however, I couldn’t even begin to guess.

My unquestioning love affair with all things New Agey ended at the same time my stint in college did.  I left MSU with a bachelor’s degree in English and a certificate to teach middle and high school students, and I left the New Age movement with a vague set of metaphysical philosophies and a weaker grasp on the nature of God than what I started with.

(end part II)

Sunday, January 29, 2012

4H Cooking Show/Pinewood Derby

It was a busy sort of Saturday around here yesterday.


Lotus had her first 4H exposition- which was something deceptively called a "cooking show".  Since it overlapped Joaquin's Pinewood derby, the family had to divide and conquer.   My parents were visiting over the weekend, so Lotus, my mom, The Jude, and I went to Lotus' 4H program, while everyone else went to the derby.


Lotus's inappropriately named "cooking show" was a five hour affair, which did not, like the word "show" would lead one to believe, have any sort of spectator section.  
This proved to be problematic, since we had The Jude with us.  The Jude does not do well in confinement.


For five hours.


For the first 45 minutes, it was fine, since all of the groups were busy assembling their table settings, which meant Jude could happily run around and speak without being shushed:
The theme for the show was "crock pot meals", and Lotus' group had chosen a variation on the French classic, cassoulet.  But once the preparation was over, the groups were to spend the rest of the day in workshops or meeting with the judge.  None of this classified, in my mind, as a "show", which I take to mean "to present or perform as a public entertainment or spectacle".


Luckily, there was a flock of geese outside, which the boy happily chased around for a while, having been told that if he caught one, he could keep it.
Luckily, The Jude's powers of stealth were bested by the geese's power of flight.


But eventually, The Jude tired of being thwarted and mocked by the geese, and he wanted to go inside.  Since the prospect of keeping Jude silent for four hours at the notshow didn't sound like any sort of fun, my mom and I decided we'd leave for a while, and come back at the end when the winners were announced.


Lotus' group all earned first place ribbons for their creation, and Lotus just about fainted when she realized she got to keep her blue ribbon forever.




The cooking "show" ended with just enough time for us to get to the Pinewood derby and watch Gabriel's car run in the "friends and family" division.  




We also got to see Joaquin win a trophy for placing second in his den.


Then we came home to have an early birthday party for my mom, but she was rapidly becoming horribly ill, and spent the final 12 hours at my house looking like this:


She's wearing three blankets in the picture.  The house was 75 degrees, and she had been sitting by the fire.  She had horrible chills, and only managed a smile here because her grandchildren were giving her gifts.  And we'd made her drink a cup of tea generously laced with whisky.


'Cause that's how we treat our guests.  We get them sick, then we liquor them up and send them home.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Conversion Story, pt. I

In the "About the Clan" page, I refer to writing down the story of my conversion to Catholicism - someday.


Someday seems so nice and far off, doesn't it?  You never actually expect "someday" to become "last night after the kids are in bed".


But, through the promptings of both the Holy Spirit and those of several friends, that's what happened.  So following this fumbling introduction, you'll find part one of my conversion story.  I have written it strictly out of gratitude for the gifts God has given me.  


Anything good in this comes from Him.  All errors in grammar and shortcomings in speech are mine.
_____________________________________

I was raised, in no particular order:

  • 1.       With both mother and father, who modeled what a strong marriage can look like
  • 2.       With one sibling, my brother, who used to be younger than I am, but since I’ve stopped aging, he’s now older
  • 3.       In a suburb of Detroit, in a dark brick ranch my grandfather helped build and my mom grew up in
  • 4.       Going to the same Presbyterian church my mom went to when she was a child


We went to church regularly, and I attended both Sunday school and youth group.  Any other religious expression was an individual pursuit.   I don’t remember reading the Bible as a family, but I do remember my gold foil “Good News Bible”, with stick figures and crinkly onionskin paper.  I don’t remember praying much as a family, outside of grace before Thanksgiving dinner, but I do remember, from a very early age, talking to God.

Specifically, I remember talking to God every night, and asking Him to “put my Grandpa on”.  I’d wait, imagining God going to get my Grandpa Bob, who had died when I was five.  I’d sit patiently in silence, until I imagined Grandpa coming to the prayer line, and we’d chat for a bit.  Then God would get back on, and we’d say our goodbyes for the night.

I remember my childhood religious formation being strong enough to forge that vital element- a prayer life, something I never ever lost. 

I remember the rest of my childhood formation being tenuous enough that I had slipped it off by college.

My best friend in high school gave me a book to read right before I left for Michigan State.  It was called Judas My Brother, by Frank Yerby.  Briefly, it is a book that strives to strip Jesus, and by extension, Christianity, of anything Divine or mystical.  It has footnotes and endnotes galore, and to a 17 year old girl with little grounding in theology, it was a revelation.  With no education in Christian apologetics to help me critically consume the book, I was happy to embrace the whole thing.  The ability to toss aside some Bronze-age set of patriarchal ethics all while spouting off quotes from a historical novel is extremely attractive to a new college student.  So, convinced that at its heart, Christianity was nothing more than a monstrous tale of a monstrous God who sacrificed His own Son to Himself to appease His monstrous anger, I chucked it all.

More or less.

I still prayed.  Every night.  There was that remnant of my childhood faith that I couldn’t even begin to shake.  Even if the prayer was nothing more than, “Thank you for this day, goodnight,” I still said it.  I didn’t think too hard about who was on the receiving end of my prayer, but I always knew that there was Someone to whom I was grateful for another day of life.

Atheism or agnosticism were never serious considerations.  At no point during my spiritual wandering did I contemplate either of them very long.  Where I was, at this point, was a theist.  Nothing more. 

I think that when a person says, “I believe in God, but I don’t believe in religion”, there are only two options left for her.  The first is slip off into profound lukewarmness, and to begin viewing God like a magic lamp, taken out when there is a wish to be granted.  The other option is to keep looking for a deeper relationship with God, which means you have to keep coming up against the one thing you’d rather avoid.   

I wasn’t looking to distance God even further.  I wanted more.  And so, like someone who keeps checking out the window to see if their family is pulling in the driveway yet, I kept returning to the subject of Religion.  What was God?  Who was God?  What was the relationship between religion and God?  Did we need religion?  Did we need God?  All the typical questions that we humans ask ourselves, and, like many others, I had no objective method to use in finding answers.  I just knew there was something missing, and that something was God.  I also knew that I didn’t want to run the risk of finding Him in some religion that was going to tell me things like “right” and “wrong”.

Pride is fun, isn’t it?

So, looking for a deeper relationship with God that didn’t attempt to burden me with annoying lessons on morality, I found myself become more and more enamored of the New Age movement.

(end part I.  Part II is here.)

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Thank You, Everyone -and a Giveaway

When I first started this blog, 3 years, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago, I did so purely as a lark.  I do things like that, start something, then get distracted and -hey! something shiny!


Since then, the blog's readership has grown from consisting solely of my brother, mother, father, and mother-in-law, to including people on at least five continents (I'm still counting my cousin as my European reader, even though she's since come back to the States).  This fact absolutely astounds me, and I want to thank every single one of you.  I always think of this blog as a modern pen pal sort of thing, and I have met so many funny, intelligent, interesting people through it.  Lots of the people I've met are also moms, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate hearing your words of commiseration after a particularly exasperated post (see: anything labeled "Gabriel" or "Jude")


I bring this all up for a reason.  Yesterday marked two big deals for this blog.  
1. The 58th person subscribed to Clan Donaldson.  Again, for a blog that started out purely as a goof of limited interest to anyone outside of family, I am extremely amazed by this fact.  Thank you to everyone who takes the time to visit me here, whether a subscriber, an occasional reader, or people who come to check in just to make sure I haven't gone off the deep end yet.
2. Yesterday, I had over 700 visitors.  To this blog.  In a single day.  Speaking as a woman who often goes days and days without leaving the house, being under a sort of self-imposed house arrest where many of my jailers are only semi-verbal and all of them are insane, knowing that so many people have shared in some of our life makes the mommy isolation less intense.
Again, thank you to everyone who spends part of your day with us.  I hope that I give you something for your time, a laugh, a feeling that you're not alone, a moment of gratitude that it's me, and not you.  Whatever.  Thank you.  Know that whatever you've taken from this blog, you've given me much more in return.


And so, I'd like to give away something tangible.  I have two sets of note cards from my Etsy shop for you.
The first one is a set of eight thank you cards.




They're purdy and they feature one of the mushrooms we found on our hike at Great Pond last year.


The second set has four different pictures from the Farmington Valley.  There's eight of them, and they're also very purdy.






See?  Purdy.
All you have to do is leave a comment at the end of this post.*  It doesn't even have to be a full sentence.  I'll leave it open until next Wednesday, then I'll draw two commenters at random (I only included that link because the fact that such a website exists is both fascinating and hilarious to me) and announce the winners on next Thursday's post.


Again, thank you to everyone who reads, comments, and contributes to this blog.  I wish I had a million dollars and a pony to give away to every one of you, but if I had ponies, I suspect Lotus would refuse to part with them.


*Mom, you can't enter.  You can't ask why, but it rhymes with "because your birthday's coming up".

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Potato Soup Recipe

Let's be completely clear about this:  I Am Not A Food Blogger.


Not that anyone who knows me would mistake me for one, but whenever I do a post about recipes, I always feel like I need to make that clear from the getgo.  Other topics I feel the need to proclaim my amateur status: fashion, medicine, home decor.


And you'll never, ever see me writing a post with child rearing tips.


Anyway, it's cold, it's snowy (here, anyway), and if that's not all you need to declare it soup weather, well, you probably don't like soup anyway.


In which case, avert your eyes.


Here's a recipe we've been making a lot lately and it is delicious.  And features bacon.  'Nuff said.




Potato Soup
5 strips of bacon
1 onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
3 tbs. flour
1 t. salt
1 t. italian seasoning or thyme (I've used both.  They're both good.)
1/2 t. pepper
4 c. broth (we use vegetable broth)
4 medium potatoes, washed, peeled, and cubed
1 cup heavy cream (if you must, you can use half-and-half.  Just don't use milk.  And for the love of all that's holy, don't use that blue water stuff they label "Skim milk".  That stuff will kill you.  The end.)
shredded cheddar cheese for garnish
__________________________________________
Cook bacon, set aside, reserving drippings.  Pour drippings into stock pot and saute onions and garlic in drippings until tender.  Add flour, salt, herbs, and pepper, whisk well.  Slowly add stock.  Bring to boil.  Add potatoes, and cook until potatoes are tender.  Coarsely mash potatoes.  Add cream and heat through.  Garnish with chopped bacon and cheddar cheese.
Makes somewhere between 8-10 servings.


If you want to get really carb-tastic, make the soup with one of the two bread recipes I shared last time I got silly with the cooking tips.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Snapshots from a Sunday: vol. 3

We cannot live only for ourselves.  A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men.  
~Herman Melville

Michelle @ Mamadart
sometime between midnight-1a.m. GST (4-5p.m. AEST)
Melbourne, Australia
While you all were tucked up in bed, here in the land of Oz we were enjoying being out and about in beautiful sunny Melbourne. 
We started at the Lego Convention where at the end of seeing all the creations, the kids got to play with a wholenpile of Lego. And I complain when the Lego is tipped out at home, at least I didn't have to organize the clean up for this lot !
Then a quick drive through the city to the last game before the playoffs. Yes! we love Baseball and even though the rest of our country is off watching the cricket here we are enjoying what I think is the best game around !

Micaela @ California to Korea
between 3-4a.m., EST 
somewhere in South Korea
Every Sunday we pass Korean churches on our way to our Mass at the chapel on post (the military base).  Every Sunday my hubby and I talk about pulling into one of the parking lots and joining the Korean Mass.  Alas, our bravery has failed us every time.  I really don't know how they would handle our relatively large and loud family. This is a statue that I love love love because I love the simplicity. and I have always had thing for the ethnic versions of Mary.  As I stopped to take my snapshot today, I noticed something new.  Everyone who passed the statue stopped to take a deep bow.  Even some people just passing by on the street stopped and bowed to Mary.  It was very moving.


Grace @ Camp Patton
Who: his highness, Sebastian Xavier
What: titled, "no! no! no! no! no! no! do not smile. go to sleep."
When: 4:29 in the am
Where: on the floor but soon to be placed under the still erected and still lit faux tree where he will get his wiggles out until he cries and rewakes me up
Why: because babies are illogical and crazy and semi-nocturnal


Poppy @ My Big Fat Green Life
Where: The Richards Household, South Lyon, Michigan - Living Room
When: 5:30-ish
What: One of my many "knitting spots"
Why: It's the first thing I see every time I come down the stairs.  This one is my favorite spot to sit and knit which also makes it the messiest.
7:30 am - Frederick, MD
What exactly is an alarm clock???



Brooke @ Dietel Days
8:03 a.m.
Cibolo, Texas
Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!!! Minus the eggs and bakey...


Ana @ Time Flies When You're Having Babies
9:39 a.m.
South Bend, Indiana: living room
Mike and Naomi's Sunday morning small talk takes an existential turn following the revelation that "life" for our 2-year-old has no significance outside of reference to the breakfast cereal. All too typical around here.


 Colleen @ Martin Family Moments
between 10-11 a.m.
somewhere in snowy New England
Xander Blaise:  Long morning nap after Mass


Stephanie @ Baca Ohana
11:15 a.m.
Albuquerque, New Mexico
Someone was really eager to help mommy pick out some glasses!!


Jessica @ Modest Mama
12:28 p.m.
Western Pennsylvania
3 years old


Amy @ So Many Things to Love
between 1-2p.m.
New Brunswick, Canada
Everyone is napping but Mama


Cari @ Clan Donaldson
2:13 p.m.
Regis Hair Salon, Simsbury, Connectict
Gettin mah har did


between 3-4p.m., Michigan
Sometimes the most interesting thing going on in your house is....well, actually interesting.  Pray for me, friends


Sarah @ With A Hopeful Heart
between 4-5p.m.
Daddy's Girl:  Weekends are for time with Daddy and this little girl cannot get enough of it.  She steals away one last moment while Daddy works on making supper.


Mary Kate @ Why Yes, I Am Crazy.  Thank You For Asking.
between 5-6 p.m.
Chicagoland, Illinois
Here at the Dempsey Homestead, sometimes Ma Dempsey doesn't get her act together in time to serve dinner when some people are feeling the need for vittles. So, little Faith took it upon herself to pour a bowl of cereal and ask one of her big brothers to pour her some milk, all while the Italian Pork Chops were cooking away. 


Jeanine @ And Then There Were....More
between 6-7 p.m.
Cleanliness is next to cuteli-ness.


Sarah @ Beautiful, Ordinary
8:30 p.m.
Santa Barbara, California
This is what happens when Mama and Dada are on the big computer-- she goes and spends some time on her own little computer. Not my finest moment of parenting, but not the worst, either. Small comfort. Now for snuggles and bed.


Melanie @ The Rosary Chick
10:15 p.m.
en route home from Jacksonville, Florida
Celebrating my birthday and my niece’s baptism on Sunday. A beautiful witness to life as my niece is adopted! I like to call the photo, roses for mommy. They were a gift to me. I know my children should have been asleep by then.


Lisa @ The Education of Mrs. Swanson
between 11p.m.-midnight
Memphis, Tennessee
No Pretty Shots Tonight, Kids:  This is the aftermath of a 90 year old house's questionably younger plumbing rejecting a flush, ruining the tiles for good this time, and not before we got the boys' clothes in the dirty laundry. Did I mention this is the only bathroom for six people, one of whom is pregnant? And it's not working at all. I blame the ivy growing under the house.


_______________________
Again, a huge thank you to everyone who contributed to this project.  Thank you for sharing a glimpse into your lives for all of us to contemplate the differences and similarities between us.  I'm always struck by the intimacy displayed in all these pictures, and how beautiful every life is.

If you signed up and haven't emailed me your photo yet, it's not too late!  Email it to me now, and I'll put it in the timeline.  

If you want to grab a "Snapshots" button, here's the fancy code:



One last thing before I go figure out the source smell/noise combo coming from the family room.  Micaela-in-Korea sent two pictures of the state of Our Lady, and told me to pick which one to use.  I want to include the other picture here, too, since it shows the faces of the statue really well.
I love, love, love bald babies, and this bald Baby Jesus is just about the sweetest thing I've ever seen.


If you'd like to contribute to next month's Snapshots, please let me know!

Sunday, January 22, 2012

The Pinterest Effect

So until someone comes up with a better phrase, I'm just going to call it "The Pinterest Effect", or "Pinterest Psychosis".  You know- that madness that descends upon you after too much exposure to adorable handicrafts and recipes and causes you to think that you can do those sorts of things.


I fall prey to this all the time.


Like yesterday.  Lotus was supposed to have her 4H cooking show, but it was cancelled because we got a fair amount of snow.  So all day, it looked like this outside:


Seriously.  It was like something out of Communist Russia.


So while the kids spent the day going in and out, in and out, sledding then coming in and disrobing, then spending an hour tracking down their gear so they could go outside again, I decided I was going to make this thing that I'd pinned the day before:


Only thing is, when I went to look at how to do it, I realized that it involved knitting.
I so don't knit.  I don't knit even more than I don't quilt.


But I really wanted to make it.  So, deeply in the throes of Pinterest Psychosis, I remembered that while I can't knit, I can fingerknit.



And the word "knit" is right there in the title, so it's got to be close, right?
I grabbed some yarn left over from my previous yarn project, and started finger knitting.  I finger knitted the hell out of the thing, creating a strand that was something like 6 feet long.


I knit until the strand was long enough to loop on itself four times.  Like this:


One continuous strand, looped four times, long enough to wrap around my neck comfortably.  Then I took another strand of yarn and started weaving it in and out of each loop, sort of sewing the pieces together.




While doing all this, I was entertained by Gabriel and his friend, who had abandoned the sub-freezing temperatures of the outdoors, and instead decided to construct the "BIGGEST TRAIN TRACK IN THE WORLD!"




Only they ran into engineering problems early on.  And I'd like to point out two things:  1. Gabriel changed out of the bathing suit for this activity and 2.  There's something about Gabriel that inspires people to cross-dress.


The engineering difficulties soon went from puzzled to peevish to obnoxious, and so Lotus, who was also finger knitting a scarf, decided to divert the boys' attention and try to give them a tutorial.




Only her students clearly weren't listening.
While all this went on, I'd finished securing all my loops together, and had something that looked like this:




It was at that point that I started seriously considering writing this blog post under the lie that Lotus had made this whole thing, since I was beginning to suspect that my final product was not going to exactly match up with my inspiration piece.


But I forged ahead, and went to find a ribbon to bind it all up.  
I chose a orange gros grain ribbon for two reasons- 1. I am convinced that orange goes with everything, and you're not going to change my mind and 2. It was the only ribbon I had.


So I ended up with this thing:




Oh yeah.  Nailed it.  Now it was time for the modeling.  
I went upstairs, looked at myself in the mirror, and debated taking a shower first.  But taking a shower is a really big deal, and so I just slapped on some sunglasses instead.  Think more Audrey Hepburn and less dirty frumpy schlub.




Only, do you know how hard it is to take a picture of a neck cowl when you're taking the picture yourself?  In order to not get an unflattering shot of the triple chin, you have to get the camera waaaaaay up in the air, and that messes with the way the cowl lays.


See?




It's like being in a contortionist act.  
So I thought I'd ask Joaquin to take a picture of me, which is something I usually avoid at all costs.  But I figured I could Photoshop the results into something vaguely acceptable.


Nope.




That's what I got.  Which is probably no better than what the weird looking creation deserved, but I had one last trick up my sleeve.


I'd just change models.




Oh yeah!


Nailed it.

Please be sure to come back tomorrow, when the third installment of "Snapshots from a Sunday" will be up.  That, at least, is one creative endeavor that I can't mess up.