Money, Money, Money

I really do love money.  I love having it and spending it.  I can’t count the times I have blown through cash and then turned around with no memory of where that money went.  Finally coming to a place where I am comfortable living in poverty has been a long journey.  It is not an unnatural place for me to be, however, because when I don’t have money, I spend no time thinking about the things I don’t have.  But the minute I have cash in my pocket, my eyes immediately see all the things I don’t have.  Things I want to have.  Things I seemingly cannot live without. 

God, who is ever merciful, is actively answering my daily prayer that I am not led into temptation.  I have moved into a place in my life where I can peacefully reject all effort of private or personal ownership.  After years of fantasizing, I know now that I will never win the lottery or have a long lost uncle leave me a bucket of cash.  I will never own a house or have a nest egg on which I can retire.  It is a shameful reality that I have shown myself to be untrustworthy, over and over again, to make Godly decisions with large amounts of money. 

I cannot be faithful with hundreds or thousands of dollars, but I can be faithful with five or ten dollars. So I accept what little I have while promising that everything I have belongs to God, to be shared with others as He directs me to. And as God protects me from wealth, He is also protecting my soul.  He knows my weakness and by giving me a desire to seek poverty and share what little I have, He is showing me a path to heaven.

Saints in my Life- Violet-who taught me humility

I am going to blog for a few days about the Saints and saints, woven in and out of my life who have brought me to this point.  My grandmother, Violet, was the first, and maybe holiest woman I have ever known. 

She was married to my grandfather for more than 50 years.  She had 4 children, lost one, and spent her life cooking, cleaning and caring for her family.  My grandmother took me to church.  She would let me lay down on her lap and listen to the sermon.  Everyday, after she cleaned her already immaculate house, she would sit in her recliner and read her black bible until she fell asleep to take her afternoon nap.  She was strict and quiet.  I never understood her while she was alive, but now, having been married for 17 years, I get a little bit of who she was.

My grandfather was a difficult man, I think, for her to be married to.  He was a hard worker and a good provider, but he was not necessarily kind.  He certainly was not abusive, but he was not affectionate or soft spoken.  I don't remember him accompanying her to church except maybe on Easter or Christmas.  As he got older, he became more cantankerous.  I can remember her leaving the table, more than once, in silent tears, because of some offhanded comment he made that stung.  My grandmother never fought with him, at least in front of us.  She took his temper with humility and grace. 

If I ever uttered the words, "I'm bored" to my grandmother, she had two solutions to this problem.  One, she would send us outside to pick up sticks and two, she would have me memorize scripture.  I remember the day she handed me a bookmark with the Lord's prayer written on it.  She said "Do you know this prayer by heart?" and because I didn't, she instructed me to sit and learn it.

Maybe she knew how important that prayer would become to me as I grew older.  I cling to this prayer  every day, reciting it multiple times, and ask God to shy me away from temptation, to protect my soul from that which would destroy it.   I pray that I would have the faith to trust in God for my daily bread and not my own self.

But the lesson I learned most from her was how to survive and flourish in a marriage.  How to hold my tongue and my temper.  How to take my husbands bad days with grace and prayer.  I learned to take my children to church and to make it a time when they are held close in my arms. I have adopted her style of sitting quietly and staring out the window when times are difficult and my mood is edgy. 

I think of her whenever I see a rose garden or a red cardinal. 

It's Time.

Big day today.  It's hard to explain how I am feeling but it's kind of like finally crossing off that one thing on your to do list that you have been avoiding forever. I am taking a step in faith and starting Catholic Worker services in Tulsa.  I am fully prepared, having no money, no specific goals, no location and no recipients.  But even so, I have more resources at my fingers than Mother T., Dorothy or Saint Zita did when they began. 

I have prayed and asked God to keep me in His will so I don't get in the way and screw this up.  I have no intentions of seeking donations, aside from prayers.  I will not use this to make a salary or provide tax right-offs.  This is going to be a place where anyone can share what they have with whoever comes and needs it.  If we have food for 5 people and there are 20 people who need food, then 5 people get food and the other 15 get prayers. We will not be requiring any intake information from anyone at our door (assuming I ever have an actual door).  Help will be given without strings, without questions, without judgement and without expectations of repayment.  Anyone at our door will be Christ and will be treated as such.

This is not a spontaneous act.  This is the end of 25 years of dragging my feet and being afraid.  I am out of excuses.  It doesn't matter that I have nothing and it doesn't matter that I live in the most generous city in the country.  Competition for serventhood is great.  But God has been patiently waiting for my obedience and He is now going to get it.

Pray for us. (and like our facebook page :))

https://www.facebook.com/#!/SaintZitaCatholicWorkerHouse

Outside the Confessional...a memo to our Priests

Last Sunday (Divine Mercy Sunday- rock-n-roll fingers)   my first grade son just couldn't wait one more day to sit down with our priest and confess his sins.  He still has one year to go before his official first confession but Father Matt was gracious and agreed to let him spill his guts.  My son was thrilled as he skipped away from the confessional assuring me that he told the truth and didn't make anything up.  Good to know he didn't lie in confession. LOL.

My protestant friends can sit this one out because I know you prefer to confess your sins privately in the dark of night before you fall asleep (although I will say--ya'll are missing out.  Confession is such a rush.). 

But to my Catholic friends and our amazing priests can we have a private chit-chat?

You teach me and I teach my children about the dangers of dying in a state of mortal sin. ONE mortal sin can send me and my good intentions straight to hell.  Okay, I am on board with ya.  But if this is truly what we believe, then why is confession presented as such an after thought?  What crazy tradition decided that it was sufficiant that it be held only on Saturdays from 4-5pm and 30 minutes before mass?  Am I the only one who understands the urgency of making confession available 24/7 or at least on a weeknight?  If it is 3am and my soul is compromised, I want to know that I can find a priest

You are in that tiny room, so you may not be aware of the long line waiting to speak to you.  We jockey for position with such demand that we probably should add it to our list of sins.  You probably don't see the anxiety and the tears of those waiting and you definitely don't see the disappointment when that little light turns out and we realize we have to wait another week and hope we don't get plowed down by a bus. 

There has to be a way to make reconciliation more accessible and not so competitive.  I know you are busy, but honestly, we, your congregation;  followers of Christ and the Catholic church...we need this.  Please make the time.

Next, I know that you may feel overwhelmed by the pain and suffering you hear, but stay strong.  Don't loose heart and begin to provide counsel based on empathy.  We have best friends and therapists and Oprah to agree with us and give us bad advice.  We need you to tell us the will of God.

I have been married for almost 17 years and over the years I have had several different priests advise me to leave my husband.  Mind you, my husband is not an addict or abusive.  He is not unfaithful.  But, like all marriages, we have had rocky times and I have cried  as I confessed how unhappy I was.  These priests were obviously nice guys who felt bad for the sobbing woman in front of them, but leaving my husband was not the will of God. I am grateful for those priests who reminded me to stay holy, to pray and to offer my tears to Christ but not to leave.  We need consistency not opinions.

Finally,   I want to thank you.  Thank you for your time when I mistakenly use confession as therapy.  Thank you for making confession such a wonderful experience to my children.  All of them regularly ask to go, so thank you for whatever sweet words you give to them.  It is difficult to keep our children from being wooed away to churches with lights and sound systems and ski trips,  but the truth of Christ and His sacraments is enough.  We love our priests.  We pray for you and bake you cookies.  We crave your attention but try to be mindful to give you your space.  We look to you, not just to hear your words, but to get a sense of your own buy-in to our faith.  May God greatly bless you.

Cha-Ching-Are Christians Supposed to Seek Wealth?

Are Christians supposed to seek wealth?


 This question nips at my heels because I really (REALLY) like money.  I don't have a lot of it, although I am payed well for a social worker and I am not complaining.  The questions nags because I have nightmares that I will stand before God for judgment and, after checking my credit score, He will want to know if I refinanced my house as I should have. God will be considering my application for Sainthood while MBA's and CEO's  waltz through the golden gates as God gives them a fist bump, "Well done, good and faithful servant! Way to rock that dot.com bust!" Yikes.

I do wonder about wealth.  I grew up in the grand capital of "non-denominational" "sowing seeds" kind of churches.  The preachers who call themselves deacons or bishops but have no real credentials.  The churches that promise, on God's behalf, a high yield of return on your tithe; the churches that announce the names of tithers and the amount they give to thundering applause.  These churches believe in wealth.  After all, didn't Jesus come that we might have life and have it abundantly?

I am gambling my life's comfort on No.  I drive by insanely large estates and beautiful houses and I feel my stomach squeeze with desire.  I work with some of the best dressed people you could ever see and swallow my embarrassment at how I look.  I cry actual tears because I know my children lack the newest gadget or the right clothes.  I could make more money, work harder, save more.  I could pull my children out of Catholic school and as my expendable income would sky-rocket, I could make a grab for all kinds of goodies. 

I am not snooty about living in poverty.  I am horribly jealous of my friends with their lovely gardens and swimming pools.  I fantasize of winning the lottery and buying my family all kinds of expensive baubles .  I don't seek out wealth because I know that I am weak and would spend it all on myself, despite my commitment to serve the poor. 

An old friend told me a few weeks ago, that Christ only asked that one guy to sell everything he had because the man loved money more than God.  My friend explained that this is this not an actual order to all Christians, just to this one man.  Bummer that this is  not how the followers of Christ interpreted this command.   

 Acts 4:32-35

The community of believers was of one heart and mind,
and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own,
but they had everything in common.With great power the apostles bore witness
to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus,
and great favor was accorded them all.
There was no needy person among them,
for those who owned property or houses would sell them,
bring the proceeds of the sale,
and put them at the feet of the apostles,
and they were distributed to each according to need.

No One Was In Need!! Are you kidding me? How freaking awesome is that?!?! Consider poverty,  Come along side the Saints we all admire; Mother T. wasn't the exception.  She was the rule for all who follow Christ.

 

Woo Me! I'm a Social Worker

Social Workers refer.  In fact, referring is a cornerstone of our profession.  We know our communities and what it offers to the families we work with.  We have a responsibility to know the scope of services we can provide ourselves and when we need to send the recipients of our service to more specialized care.

I not a picky person about most things.  But when it comes to agencies I trust, I am picky.  I have high standards.  If I send a mother to some agency for service and they treat her like shit, then it rubs back on me. I have even been known to do some under-cover recon when researching a new community resource or one that I have heard negative rumors floating around our community (Tulsa Social Services...This Mean YOU!).

So, community agencies, seeking those all-important Medicaid $$ or needing to up their numbers for a grant proposal...

WOO YOUR LOCAL SOCIAL WORKERS!  We can help. And here is what I am looking for...

• Your building should be easy to locate without using my GPS.
• Your service hours should be clearly stated somewhere on the building.
• I want to see healthy green plants and clean toys in the lobby. I want clean bathrooms. Family Friendly.
• Your receptionist needs to be smiling, pleasant and helpful. Ideally, I want her semi-orgasmic over the idea of helping people. 
• This is just a personal pet peeve of mine, but I really don't like referring to the community recipients as "Clients." Boo this word.
• Minimal paperwork.  I would prefer zero paperwork but I understand you have reports to write.  Just be cautious and sensitive. Only ask what is absolutely necessary.
• Short wait time.  If your appointments are running late, then have your lovely receptionist make families aware so they can plan their day.
• Enjoy your job.  If you don't enjoy your job, get out and go do something else.
• Be creative in helping families.  If you absolutely can do nothing for them, find someone who can.

Remember that good reputations are hard to build and bad reputations last forever.  Try and earn the credibility that your community can bestow upon you at their whim.

Social Work Confessions- What Makes It Worth It.

Social Work is a messy profession, but even among social workers my job is creepy and a little too messy for most people to  be comfortable with. My 8/5 job is spent reading the medical records of babies who have died and interviewing their parents.  Yes, parents cry and yes, I have seen more pictures of dead, decomposing babies than anyone probably should but, honestly, it sounds much worse than it actually is.

Unlike a lot of social work specialties, my job is without a demographic. Infant loss, tragically, can effect anyone.   I get to meet the rich and the poor and the destitute.  These families come from all backgrounds. They are in the city and in the boondocks.  They speak different languages and they express their grief in ways unique to their own culture.  I have seen families collapse on the ground as the pain washes over them and others who barely remember they had a baby at all.  The one commonality is that they all experienced the death of their baby.

Simply put, they are all saints.  They are such a strong group of women and men, who get up every day and take steps forward when all they want to do is lie down and stay down.  They care about other families who are suffering,  families whom they have never met.  And they love their babies.  Some lived for a minute and others for months, but the life was valuable to them and every moment was cherished.

 I had to write today because I met a family this morning that inspired me beyond what I thought was possible.  The parents cried and held each other.  They laughed and took joy in the brief moments they had with their baby.  They opened their door and allowed me to share in their private and most painful memories.  To this family I say: I wish I was not bound by confidentiality because everyone should know you and shake your hand.  Words cannot express my gratitude and I am a different person tonight than I was this morning.  My heart breaks for your loss and soars with your commitment to each other and your community.

These are the days that I just love my job.

Upon Being Catholic- This is a true story. It's a Cell Phone Miracle

Several years ago I got to experience my very own, personal miracle.  True Story.

It was a winter night in January several years ago.  There had been an ice storm and I was out trying to catch up on some home visits I needed to do.  I was leaving a client's apartment, talking on my super-cool, new, black razor cell phone to my best friend, Holly. (shout out!)

I got into my car and tossed my phone onto the seat next to me.  It landed in a burger king sack that had previously contained my dinner.  I heard the brown paper crunch, but it didn't click in until the next day.  As I was driving out of the apartment complex, I stopped at the garbage bin and tossed some trash away, including the said Burger King sack. 

I went home and snuggled down for the night, escaping the snowfall.  The next day we were indeed snowed in.  I briefly thought about my cell phone, thinking it was still in the front seat, but decided to wait another day before braving the weather to retrieve it.

Finally the sun came out and I went out to get my phone.  It wasn't in the front seat and I started hallucinating that I had brought it inside.  After a day of tearing apart my car and my house, I remembered the brown paper bag crunch, my stomach twisted, vomit hinted at making an appearance and panic set in. 

I drove across town to the apartment complex and, duh, the trash had been removed. Crap.  I had lost my cell phone with all my clients numbers in it. Crap. Crap. Double Crap.

So I did what any self-respecting Catholic would do, turn to the Saints.  This was my exact prayer: "Saint Zita please pray that I find my phone. Send my guardian angels to the dump or where ever to retrieve it and then put it somewhere really obvious so I can find it.  I am stressed out and I need it back."

Peace set in and I continued on with things.  The next day I drove around town, making visits.  Then the next next day, I drove out of town, round trip, 100 miles.  I picked up my kids from school and my daughter and I went to Wal-Mart.  After we finished shopping, we put all the bags in the trunk of my car and went home.  I got out of the car and popped the trunk to retrieve the bags.

And there it was.

My cell phone.

Tucked into the bumper of my car.

It's a miracle.

Dear President Obama,

Today President Obama critiqued the Republican economic theory that wealth flows down to the laborers from the upper class, saying "In this country, prosperity has never trickled down from the wealthy few."

I think it is a fair criticism. Although money does trickle down in one way or another, what does trickle down is so polluted, diluted and picked over that it does little more than sustain the working poor. 
It does not provide opportunities for the advancement it promises.  It does not quench the thirst that it creates for justice and prosperity.  It comes with strings that turn the poor into puppets, entertaining the system as they are forced to jump through hoop after fiery hoop.

Money can only trickle down at the whim and direction of the powerful.  Any attempts at creating a fair system, to impliment a minimum wage, improve working conditions or to fill the gaps with social programs, are met with screams of protest from those in power as they claim their liberty is being ripped away. They demand that the poor work longer, work harder and sacrifice more.

The greatest flaw to Capitalism is that the poor have no choice but to hope that the weathy are just and fair. They must believe that their employers have the best interest of the workers at heart.  They can only hope that their employers do not struggle with greed.   Despite the evidence of what they see and the pain that they feel, they must believe. If they don't believe that the intentions of the wealthy and powerful are pure they will become angry.  They will try to demand change and after they awaken from the impact of what little power they have, they will become hopeless.

I am a Republican. My father and grandfather were Republicans. I have never, not even once, voted for a Democrat.  I believe in Capitalism as a basis for economic stability.  But the time has come to bridge Capitalism and  Responsibility.  It is not a new idea.

Saint Francis of Assisi believed that our skills and  labor should be gifts of service to the greater community, not the means to an end of gluttony and self-indulgence.  We can maintain individualism, joy, success and competition while practicing generosity, selflessness and love. 

Peter Maurin,  despite being, well, perhaps a bit off his rocker, was an idealist.  He believed with all his heart that society, not just individuals, but society as a whole could reform and transform into something greater. 

The best part of all of this is that it is an easy fix!! All it takes is a change in attitude, a shift of focus, an additional element of compassion for every living soul on our planet.  Then we CAN do away with government programs of food and welfare because we will be caring for one another.  We will trust God and each other that our needs will be met. Hallelujah!


"The world would be better off
if people tried
to become better.

And people would
become better
if they stopped trying
to be better off.

For when everybody tries
to become better off,
nobody is better off.

But when everybody tries
to become better,
everybody is better off.

Everybody would be rich
if nobody tried
to become richer

And nobody would be poor
if everybody tried
to be the poorest"

Peter Maurin

Upon Being Catholic- What are we missing?

My family visited a non-denominational church over the weekend to take in their Easter production.  The church really did a wonderful job.  Aside from some minor scriptural errors it was just a great evening. 

We are Catholic through and through but I can see the glamour that could tempt someone away.  It’s kind of like getting really excited about a new house that has a pool and a tree house to play in but not paying much attention to the foundation of the home.  There was loud music and pretty lights. There was a smoke machine and super comfy chairs.   It was all very entertaining.  Even my wiggly worm of a son sat through most of the service. 

But beyond the theatrics, there are some things I would love to see the Catholic church adopt:

1)The door greeters.  I truly believe they were glad we were there.  They seemed sincere     welcoming me and my family.  There were big smiles and strong handshakes.  I felt immediately at ease. 

2 )Dress Code.  There wasn’t one!  No one checked the clothes my family was wearing.  There were no signs demanding that no one wear shorts or that everyone spit out their gum.

3) Everyone Sings! Catholics are a bit odd sometimes.  We think that the choir sings and everyone else listens.  It was nice to hear everyone in the building singing.

4) Fresh Flowers in the bathroom.  That’s just me being fancy.

5) A coffee bar in the lobby.  Can't think of a reason why we shouldn't have one.

 Of course none of this compares to transubstantiation or the sacraments, but a friendly handshake and a coffee bar would be some great additions to our parish.

Happy Easter.  Celebrate the Risen Christ.

Ungrateful Bitch

This morning, as I was taking my oldest daughter to school,  we saw a woman walking down the road.  She was wearing sweatpants and a moth eaten sweatshirt.  She was barefoot.  Her hair was matted  and she was just covered in dirt and filth from head to toe.  My daughter, inspired to service, quickly grabbed an extra pair of Nike's, the socks off her own feet, her breakfast (a banana) and her allowance.  She put them all in a Wal-mart sack and insisted I turn the car around.

My daughter hopped out of the car and politely mentioned to the woman that she seemed to have left her shoes at home and wondered if she needed an extra pair for the day.  The woman said, "I don't need any shoes but I could use some breakfast."  My daughter assured her there was food and some cash in the bag.

As we started to drive away, we saw the woman throw the shoes away in the grass, peal the banana and search the bag for money.  

(Side note:  The money was IN the shoes. So that was kind of funny)

I am not going to lie.  My first thought was:

"You ungrateful bitch.  How dare you toss away my generosity!  You embarrassed us and acted like your nasty  feet were too good for our pair of Lady Nike's.  Now we are late for school and work, all for nothing."

I felt the offense deeply for both my daughter and myself.

Deep breaths.  If I allow those emotions to fester, my heart quickly hardens towards the poor.  So I did some emergency reframing of the encounter in my mind.

First of all, the big liar!  She absolutely DID need shoes.  Her feet were disgusting.

Secondly, regardless of her response, we were obedient to God's command to clothe and feed the poor.

The poor owe me nothing.  Not a thank you or a "God bless you" or a smile. Nothing.  You would think I am mature enough after working with the poor for so long that I do not need a visual cue of gratitude.  But I guess I still do.  Charity is humiliating.  Having someone point out that your need is so obvious that we can see it from a moving car 50 feet away must be a kick in the gut. 

So, she only wanted the money... and the banana.  How rude.  So am I justified in the eternity of eyeroll's and scoffing noises that I want to aim her way? Thank God He addressed this early on for stupid people like me.

Mt. 19:20  The young man said to Him, "All these commands I have kept; what am I still lacking?" Jesus said to him, "If you wish to be complete, go and sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me."

Jesus did not say, go get your old pair of shoes and give them away.  Nope.  He said go have a massive garage sale.  Sell your stuff to those who have the money to buy them.  AND GIVE CASH TO THE POOR.  He did not say, "follow the poor people to make sure they don't buy drugs, alcohol or lottery tickets." Nope.  He said very plainly to give them cash... And then I get to have treasure in Heaven.

So it's kind of a win-win.

"Humilty is learned through experiencing humilation with dignity." Mother T.

600 Million Reasons to be proud.

My husband is by no means a bleeding heart social worker like his wife.  He is a quiet man who works hard and who doesn't spend his life looking for injustices.  Our marriage has been rocky and certainly we have made some pretty miserable mistakes but I am so glad we have hung in there.

I remember vividly the moment I knew I wanted to marry him.  We were walking home from the movies one night and stopped at a sidewalk food vendor to grab a hamburger.  He ordered three and silently passed one to a homeless guy sitting on the curb.  If I had sneezed or blinked I would have missed it completely.

 It wasn't the donation that clinched my heart,  it was how effortlessly he did it.  It was as automatic and as simple as breathing and he never gave it a second thought.  I am not sure he even gave it a first thought.  Sacrifice defines his life.  He gives to his family, to church and to strangers.  He gives money, time and compassion and never asks for anything in return.  He put aside his own dreams and plans but I have never heard him wish for something he didn't have.

He and I are different.  Sacrifice does not come naturally to me.  I have to struggle every minute against my selfish nature and more often than not, the selfish side wins.   Even with my own family, my own children, I often have to remind myself that they need things.  It is embarrassing to admit but there it is. 
    
My husband grew up in poverty and began working when he was 8 years old selling newspapers on the corner.  There were times when he went hungry and there were times when there was no money for medicine.  I have no doubt that he suffered.  I suffered too, though. (see the selfish).  My family was not wealthy.  I went without some of the material things my friends had.  I grew out of these circumstances determined to meet my own needs.  He grew out of his circumstances ready to meet the needs of his family and the world around him.

My husband bought three lottery tickets for the 600 million dollar PowerBall that drew last Friday. After the drawing (um, we lost) we chatted briefly about how we would have spent the money.  This was the conversation:

Hub: It all would have been spent pretty fast.
Me: Yep.
Hub: Traveling.
Me: Yep
Hub: I would have started with all our family and  friends and then moved on from there.
Me: I have no doubt.
Hub:  Build schools and hospitals.  Feed a bunch of people. 
Me: Pretty great plan.
Hub: Then we would have been poor and working again. But that's how it goes.


That is certainly how it should go.