Countably Infinite

I've attended enough school plays, middle school sporting events, and children's holiday concerts to know that I need to mentally prepare for them. They particularly amplify my feeling of singleness and childlessness. You would think that bridal showers, weddings, baby showers and meal train visits to families with new little ones would be the more likely events to do this, but oddly they don't. It's sitting in an audience, watching from a distance, clapping and cheering and watching the parents and grandparents around me take pictures. For some reason, that's what wakes up the feeling in me most. I wonder what it would be like to watch my child grow, and what it would be like to look over at the seat next to me and see my child's father watch him or her grow too.

I know ahead of time that these events require a balance beam act inside my heart and mind. I have to allow the longing for something beautiful without tipping over to the natural feeling of bitterness. To prepare my heart, I pray. To prepare my mind, I consider countably infinite sets. 

Some types of infinity are larger than others. The countably infinite sets (integers, natural numbers, rational numbers) go on without an end. So do the uncountably infinite sets (real numbers, irrational numbers), but these contain more numbers than the countably infinite sets. What does all this have to do with hoping for a family? Understanding that there are different types of infinity justifies my aching and condemns my bitterness all at once.  

In this metaphor, family life is an uncountably infinite set. It's the vastest and highest thing I can imagine on this earth. I watch in awe as my friends marry and become parents. They are swept up in something far beyond them, creating with God and caring for eternal souls of priceless worth. The layers aren't countable - they have depth within depth and color within color. Being a mother is the most real and most irrational thing a woman can do. Of course I am enthralled by its enormity. I wouldn't want to give up the awe for the sake of coping. I believe some women have traded their awe for motherhood for cynicism in order to protect themselves. Many could not get it back even when their children were born, and their families suffer deeply. 

I want to hold on to this regard toward family life, even when it's painful. A future husband and children would be more than worthy of all this longing. Even if I never receive the gift, the world needs men and women who regard the family as it should be regarded - an infinite gift. Fewer careless vows would be taken, fewer children born unwelcomed, fewer people abandoned and alone. 

The uncountably infinite is worth the awe. But the countably infinite keeps me from heartbreak at the infinite loss of not being a wife and mother. What is the countably infinite? This smaller set of numbers still goes on forever. Is it more graspable because it is smaller? No, it is still far beyond anything I can fathom. And this is a metaphor for the gifts I receive every day in my current state of life. The treasures of these eternal souls are no less priceless to me because instead of "mother" they call me "teacher." The role I have in the lives of many dear children is a high calling far above what I could reach in a lifetime. A parent's role is higher, and I acknowledge and honor this, but try not to waste time comparing infinities. My countably infinite world holds enough awe to last forever. So when I see the light in the eyes of the children who call me neighbor, cousin, teacher, sister, or godmother, I soak it in, and my heart overflows. 

Gifts of 2010

A year ago, spending the first few moments of January 1, 2010 in the candle-lit chapel, praying and singing with my sister and our friends, asking God to sustain us in the new year.

Many days (and nights) of ice-skating on the pond with my family - racing, jumping, misusing hockey sticks, spinning, falling, and laughing.

Passing by the Church every day after class, often stopping and encountering the supernatural graces of adoration.

Enjoying chapters of Moby Dick every night (for a goodly time), being awed, amused, and better educated on whaling ships. Enjoying Martin Chuzzlewit after that and getting my much-loved annual dose of Dickens.

A Lent without music. A Holy Thursday Mass and constant adoration with my father and sister until midnight. A fervent and glorious Easter Vigil.

High school graduation, 18th birthday, first job. The opportunity to increase my solidarity with humanity by working a cash register and a drive-thru. Praising God that I could find a job in the employment wasteland of my hometown.

Sitting in the heat and light of the sun on the community college lawn, closing my eyes to the music and choosing Deas Vail every single time.

Meeting a Dominican sister in the Dairy Queen. A few months later, getting a letter from halfway across the country, explaining that she had met a friend of mine who gave her my address. Beginning a treasured correspondence.

Taking a roadtrip with my sister, listening to (m)orning by Mae as we drove into a sunrising sky. Meeting our family at the campgrounds, getting caught hiking in the rain to find shelter in a cleft and pray a rosary.

Stargazing late into the night with Future of Forestry's Traveler's Song repeating on my iPod.

Picnicking for my sister's birthday. Picknicking with my cousins. Picknicking often on the college campus with newly made friends.

Making use of the school's tucked away meditation room and rediscovering the mysteries of the Gospel with what became a daily rosary.

Eating Swiss cheese, talking to fish, watching childrens' movies, burning popcorn, playing outdated board games, re-enacting ET, and swaying in unison with my first roommate in the freshman dorm.

A global issues class that blew my mind twice a week.

A Psalter's concert that brought Psalms to my lips for weeks afterward.

Moongazing with a stranger on the campus lawn and talking theology for hours into the night, losing favor with campus security. Having the widest range of philosophical discussions I've ever had in any one semester of school.

Watching my little siblings get older. Conversing with the 2-year-old whose default answer to any question was "applesauce." Playing and laughing with them.

Celebrating the 50th anniversary of both sets of grandparents! Savoring reunions and reminiscences and thanking God for my rare family heritage!

And the biggest gift of all: meeting my sister Maria on Christmas Day.

My Idea of a Man

There's someone in my life who's very imperfect. But my idea of a man is someone who will return to Christ continually, despite failures. This takes humility.

When I think of the word "masculine," I think of my dad. He "mans up" to his failures because he knows the Truth. When someone knows the Truth, it should humble them, not make them prideful, because the Way, the Truth, and the Life is the powerful One to whom every knee must bow.

My dad taught me about how the Truth is infinite and perfect. If we're going to enter it, we have to be humble, or we can't be changed by Him.

I am a person who struggles with pride, and sometimes the monster seems so unconquerable that I imagine it's useless to keep returning to God. But my dad demonstrates to me that it is NOT useless - that, in fact - it is the returning to God that defines you, and not the sin. The faith of my father feeds me hope every day.

My idea of a man is someone who treats me as an unrepeatable soul. And my idea of a man is someone who can treat me like a sister. My dad does both of these things; he affirms me every day in so many different kinds of ways.
-hugging and kissing me
-thanking me
-telling me I'm pretty
-poking fun at me with his dumb puns
-working hard for me
-reading things I read
-reading things I write
-being honest and willing to address all problems (because he truly cares)

And he calls me his sister in Christ.
-he respects me & wants to know what I think
-encourages my femininity
-advises and prays for me

The most masculine thing that my dad does is lead his family toward Christ. Not just spiritually, but physically! He guided me to the Eucharist, and he leads all of us to the Eucharist every week. He's the one helping us to heaven and I love him for it.

A Heritage of Prayer

Lately, I've been so thankful for the example that my mom sets in prayer. Her prayers are such a huge part of what makes our family what it is. Nearly every morning I see her sitting down with her Bible & prayer book, often simultaneously trying to keep track of the baby or help get breakfast for the little boys. I know it's not easy for her, but she makes the commitment to do it, despite the distractions. When I think about all of the responsibilities in my life, I wonder how I can justify omitting morning prayers so often when Mom does it with far more tasks at hand.

My paternal grandmother is a prayer warrior, too. I remember several times staying at their house & waking up very early (before six), not being able to go back to sleep. I would creep down to the steps and look through the rails to see Grandma sitting on the couch with her Bible and her prayer book. I know that she regularly prays for each one of her 19 grandchildren individually. She sends out waves of grace to us, though we probably won't fully know how much they've affected us until we're in Paradise.

I never met my great-grandmother, Edna Case, but her presence still influences my life. I'm sure it was partly from her that my Grandma got her early-rising prayer habits. She seemed like such a disciplined, intelligent, devout Christian woman. I've only seen her face in pictures, but I have seen her legacy in my grandmother and great uncle & aunt. All 11 of her grandchildren are still walking with the Lord and raising the 43 great-grandchildren in His ways.

Right now I want to be developing the discipline of rising early and devoting time to God in prayer. I have to admit that I've done pretty poorly in the last year, but it's a habit I know is worth working for. I ALWAYS benefit from getting my mind and heart straight first thing in the morning. It helps me stay prayerful, focused, and more industrious throughout the whole day. Sharing communion with God puts a sweet taste on my heart that lasts for hours.

Holy, holy, holy
Lord God Almighty
Early in the morning
Our song shall rise to thee.

I want to give that heritage to my sons and daughters someday (if that is God's will for me). I want them to have great relationships with each other like I have with my own siblings. I want them to be good friends with their cousins, to appreciate the godly family legacy that they have and be nourished in their own prayer life by the holy examples of their parents, grandparents, & great-grandparents.

Experiences I Never Want to Forget

I feel as fortunate as a queen to have been able to see some of the most phenomenal landscapes in the States on a western family trip these past 2 weeks!

Walking through the Badlands was almost like walking on the moon.

The formations in Jewel Cave were just as unearthly.

And I'd never dreamed of anything like the Needles of the Black Hills!

There's no way that I could even describe the vast beauty of Yellowstone.


I'd seen pictures, but experiencing it in real life was stunning. Half the time I felt like I was just looking at a postcard.

Now it feels to me like the world has infinite facets that I haven't even begun to see...

...unfathomable things...

We got to make beautiful family memories like stopping for lunch at a lake in the Grand Tetons, skipping rocks, playing in the water, and enjoying the sunshine & unforgettable view.

The long driving hours were just as scenic as the stops. Whenever I looked out the window at the enormous Wyoming & Colorado plains I saw in my mind's eye dusty covered wagons crawling slowly across.

And thanks to modern roads & automobiles, I got to see what so few other people in the world are privileged to see from the top of Pike's Peak.

But the best part of the trip by far was definitely this.

Thanks for the memories :)