Epistles from Echowood

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the publication of L.M. Montgomery’s classic novel, Anne of Green Gables.

I remember when my mom first read this book aloud to me. I was not interested in “old-fashioned things” at the time and was really quite bored. I’m not sure we got much farther than the first or second chapter, to tell the truth.

Somehow, as the years went by, I changed. By the time I was halfway through high school, my opinion on “old-fashioned things” had taken a 180-degree turn, and I read not only Anne of Green Gables but all of the “Anne” books, as well as many others by L.M. Montgomery, who quickly became my all-time favorite author. She remains so to this day.

In honor of this 100th anniversary, I’m thinking of re-reading the book. I have heard that the special 100th anniversary edition (pictured above) is loaded with all the publisher’s original typos and editing errors that must have set poor Maud’s teeth on edge when she read through it for the first time. So I think if I do read it again, I’ll opt for my old paperback copy—the one with Megan Follows on the cover. (Remember the Canadian-produced Anne series she starred in? Wonderful, even if the second was a bit far off the mark from the books—and the third even more so, to the point of being barely recognizable as having anything to do with the books at all. I did not like that one.)

I don’t know if I’ll ever get there, but someday I would like to visit Prince Edward Island and see the historical sites dedicated to L.M. Montgomery. Probably nothing looks as it did in her day. But still, it would be neat to go.

Times like these, I wish I had a daughter. How nice it would be to share these treasured old books with her. With boys, I just don’t think it would go over as well, you know? Then again, if I had a daughter, she might be just like I was—bored to tears by “old-fashioned things.” I guess I will have to commemorate Anne all by myself…..for now, anyway.

Yesterday I found this one-word meme at a few different blogs (including Margaret’s and Roxanne’s), and I couldn’t resist the challenge. Let’s face it: It’s an easy way to do a post without having to think too hard!

1. Where is your cell phone? Bookshelf
2. Your significant other? Working
3. Your hair? Long
4. Your mother? Industrious
5. Your father? Strong
6. Your favorite thing? Soap
7. Your dream last night? Forgotten
8. Your favorite drink? Sunkist
9. Your dream/goal? Heaven
10. The room you’re in? Living
11. Your church? Catholic
12. Your fear? Loss
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Holier
14. Where were you last night? Online
15. What you’re not? Crafty
16. Muffins? No
17. One of your wish list items? Grill
18. Where you grew up? Bemidji
19. The last thing you did? Lunch
20. What are you wearing? Apron
21. Your TV? SpongeBob
22. Your pets? Snoozing
23. Your computer? Dusty
24. Your life? Disorganized
25. Your mood?  Grumpy
26. Missing someone?  Absolutely
27. Your car?  Red
28. Something you’re not wearing?  Make-up
29. Favorite store?  Borders
30. Your summer?  Hot
31. Like(love) someone?  Sure
32. Your favorite color?  Orange
33. Last time you laughed?  Tuesday
34. Last time you cried?  Saturday
35. Who will re post this?  Somebody

July 15, 1995

Brian and I often go have lunch or dinner at McDonald’s for our anniversary—after all, it is where we met. But after all the traveling we’ve been doing, neither of us is exactly in the mood to either drive anyplace or eat fast food. Still, we do have to pick up the dog from the kennel, and we really need groceries; so it looks like we’ll be going out anyway.

We had a lovely wedding. It was held at my parents’ house on Lake Marquette, in Bemidji, before they moved to Florida. The ceremony was right on the beach, with the pastor of my hometown church officiating. My friends Heather and Jeff, who were then engaged, played the processional and recessional music on their instruments—trombone and French horn, if I remember right. Sabrina did the Scripture readings. My confirmation teacher gave a little talk on the subject of marriage. My sister, Amy, was my maid of honor; and Brian’s friend Jonathan was best man.

There were about a hundred guests at our wedding, including my maternal grandparents and Brian’s two grandmas. The reception was held under a canopy tent in the front yard. My parents, with some help from church ladies and relatives, made all the food (except the cake). We even had a bit of dancing in the garage.

It was a lovely and perfect day…..well, maybe not “perfect,” for whose wedding truly is? But it was very nice indeed. Several people commented that it was the nicest wedding they’d ever been to. They were probably just saying that to make us feel good, but I don’t care. It was the nicest wedding I’ve ever been to, and that’s a fact. :p

And today we’re back, safe and sound.

First we headed to St. Pete Beach to spend the 4th of July at Mom and Dad’s. It’s become an annual tradition now that the whole family gets together over that holiday to celebrate, not only the 4th, but Dad’s and my niece Emerald’s birthdays. We have a big party at the house, with lots of food, swimming, balloons, cake, and presents. The kids love it. It’s a bit of an ordeal—so many people in one place—but it’s fun.

No sooner had we gotten home from that trip than we got back in the mini-van and headed north to Illinois to attend Brian’s family’s reunion. His one aunt and uncle live in a very nice house on a lake. Again, more swimming, food…..no balloons, cake or presents, but plenty of “fellowship” with all the relatives.

Brian and I hadn’t been to one of these annual reunions in seven years. We were shocked at how big some of the cousins’ children had gotten. Kids we remembered being little 9-year-olds are now starting to think about college! The one boy I remember holding as a baby—before I got pregnant myself and was in my desperate-for-a-baby stage—is now going into the 5th grade!

But life is all about change. The main reason we went to the reunion in the first place was to see Brian’s grandma Helen. She is turning 94 this year and is in fine health but doesn’t have much energy or inclination to really get up and go get ‘em, if you know what I mean. We really wanted to see her and have her see our boys. The last time we had a chance to visit with her was the last time we attended a reunion, and Urban was just a few months old. She’d never met Charlie or Levi!

It was wonderful to see her and be able to give her a hug. It made me want to cry. It’s sad how families are so separated these days—everyone living so far from everyone else. She was so very happy to see us, though. She told Brian and I we “hadn’t changed a bit,” which to me was a huge compliment! I would have liked to have sat and really had a nice long conversation with her, but her hearing is very poor now, and with all the commotion at the reunion, it really wasn’t possible unless I wanted to try and get her to hear me by yelling the whole time. She seemed happy to just sit and play Skip-Bo, her favorite card game, with some of her sons and grandkids. But when we visited her at her apartment in the morning, prior to the reunion, I did get to sit next to her and hold her hand and just be with her for a while before I gave up my seat so Brian could do the same. She used to live near Brian and his mom and dad when they lived in south Florida; I think he is one of her favorites.

Anyway. So much travel! I am very, very glad to be home. Of course, whenever I come home from anywhere, I observe what a mess my house is—there is so much that needs to be done around here. The yard is a jungle; the kitchen table is covered in papers; there are mounds of laundry to do now; blah blah blah. But I’ll just plug away at it and get done what I can, when I can.

Hope you’ve had a nice couple of weeks. I’ll leave you with this picture Brian took of the boys at the Alabama welcome center. They had a fun trip, but they’re glad to be home, too!

Lisa at Unexpected Journey has tagged me for a “meme.” I’ve been blogging since mid-November, and this is the first time I’ve been tagged. I don’t know what “meme” means, but I do know that what I’m supposed to do is answer the questions and post my answers on my blog. Then, I can tag others to do the same.

So, here goes!

Four, Four, Four, Four…..

A. Four places that I go to over and over:

1. Wally-Mart
2. My church
3. My husband’s church
4. Target

B. Four people who e-mail me regularly:

1. Surekha
2. My mom
3. My in-laws
4. Barbie

C. My favorite 4 places to eat:

1. The Hobbit (a local place; they have the best burgers and fries)
2. Red Elephant Pizza and Grill (also local)
3. Chili’s
4. McDonald’s (yes, really)

D. Four places I would rather be right now:

1. Up in Bemidji, having coffee at CK with Sabrina until 3 o’clock in the morning
2. At DisneyWorld (I’ve never been)
3. At Glacier National Park
4. At Mom and Dad’s, in St. Pete Beach, swimming in the pool with the kids

E. Four people I think will respond:

1. Sabrina
2. Jenny
3. Stephanie
4. Mary

F. Four TV shows I watch all the time:

1. “The Journey Home” on EWTN
2. “The Abundant Life” on EWTN
3. “American Idol” (January - May)
4. “Little House on the Prairie” (re-runs on Hallmark channel)

G. Four words that describe you:

1. Friendly
2. Loyal
3. Introspective
4. Bookish

H. Four favorite “old school” Hollywood actors/actresses:

(This is not something I know too much about, so I’m grasping at straws here!)
1. James Stewart
2. Audrey Hepburn
3. Olivia de Havilland
4. Doris Day

I. Four favorite “old school” television game shows:

1. “Family Feud”
2. “Press Your Luck”
3. “$25,000 Pyramid”
4. “Password”

J. Four favorite “old school” television shows:

1. “I Love Lucy”
2. “The Andy Griffith Show”
3. “The Brady Bunch”
4. “The Carol Burnett Show”

K. List four things you liked best about Christmas when you were a child (I’m adding a qualifier here—BESIDES PRESENTS!):

1. Decorating the tree
2. Listening to the “Sesame Street” Christmas album
3. My grandma and grandpa coming for a few days
4. All the goodies we would make (peanut clusters, fudge, cookies—decorating those was fun!)

L. List four things you liked best about Halloween when you were a child:

1. Dressing up
2. Parties at school
3. Trick-or-treating
4. Candy

M. List four things you did not like about growing up:

1. Being the oldest sibling and always having to “supervise” and/or babysit the younger ones
2. Being called names (by certain schoolmates) and food-policed (by my parents) because of my weight
3. Having to ride the bus to/from school
4. Feeling too self-conscious/ugly/fat to talk to people I wanted to know better

N. List 4 events that impacted your life:

1. Going off to college
2. Getting married
3. Having my first baby
4. Becoming a Lutheran

I tag those listed in letter E.

I had no idea that my husband had any interest in the musings of my blog until last night. After getting a mild version of the cold shoulder from him for a week, I finally asked him what was going on.

Well, he’d read this post, and it had made him really angry. He very much took exception to my assumption that he was not interested in growing his faith or in being the spiritual head of our household.

He said, “I think you don’t know anything about my relationship with God.”

I said, “Well, that’s because you never talk to me about it.” (Which is true.)

So last night, we talked. And talked and talked and talked. It was exhausting. But I learned so much about him, and I am so grateful for that that, even as I type this, I am starting to get teary-eyed.

He does want to be the spiritual head of our household. He has just been holding back because he is afraid of the conflict it would cause between us. But our boys are still so young. I think we both realize that, at this point, it’s not about trying to convince them to accept one brand of Christianity over another, but simply about loving them and teaching them what the Bible says and setting a good example for them of how to follow Jesus.

I thought my husband never prayed. Turns out, he prays at least as much as I do, and sometimes probably more. But as he noted, “I just don’t advertise it.” Well, okay. But he’s been known to hide his light under a bushel, from my perspective; I guess because he’s such a private, reserved person. I can understand his reluctance to share with strangers, but my being his wife and all….well, it would be nice if he would talk to me about things more. So I told him that.

We talked a lot about Catholicism. Perhaps in part because he has a mathematician’s mind, Brian requires excellent proof before he accepts things to be true. He’s very analytical. He’ll spot inaccurate comments made on television commercials (such as the recent, “Most car accidents happen on Friday afternoons between 3 and 6 p.m.”—something like that). I hear stuff like that and don’t give it a second thought; his sharp mind immediately zeros in on the improbability of such a statement, and we have a good laugh. (Because really, who actually believes that more than 50% of all car accidents happen on Friday afternoons?!)

Anyway. He explained to me that he has seen no concrete evidence to prove that the Catholic church has the authority that it claims to have. Even though Jesus gave certain authority to Peter and certain special abilities to the apostles (healing, speaking in tongues, etc.), we no longer find priests or pastors doing those things on a regular basis. How does the “laying on of hands” business guarantee that the exact authority given to Peter is the same authority given to these others who come into high positions in the Church?

Furthermore, he feels that the Church takes some nice things that were already there (the Bible, some early writings) and keeps adding and adding and adding to them, making its newly defined doctrines/dogma binding upon all the faithful—”You must believe this, or you’re not really a Christian.” The best example of this would be the various Marian doctrines. In spite of the many analogies—Mary as The New Eve, Mary as The Ark of the New Covenant—Brian feels there is no way that we can know for an absolute fact that Mary was immaculately conceived or that she was assumed into heaven. These are theories on something that is undecidable. Mary could just as well have been a simple, humble-yet-imperfect woman whom God chose to be Jesus’ mother. God is God, He can do things however He wants. Why does the Church always have to insist it has the answer for everything?

And most of all, it grieves my husband deeply that the Catholic church does not intercommune with other Christians. One may not receive the Eucharist unless one is Catholic. One may not profess to be Catholic unless one believes all of the various “binding on the faithful” doctrines that have been put forth.  And even those who are Catholic may not receive Communion unless they meets all the “criteria.” Brian feels that Jesus’s beautiful gift of self is being used as a political tool.

Even though I myself don’t have a problem with Church authority, I absolutely see where he is coming from. I don’t know how to reconcile all these things. Is there a way to prove that the current pope has all the exact authority that Jesus gave to Peter? Why does the Church insist on hyper-defining things that might be better left as Mystery? Does it truly matter to our Lord if a person receives His Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity in the Eucharist without believing every single thing the Church teaches? (There are certainly huge numbers of Catholics who aren’t faithful to those teachings—witness the something like 90% of Catholics who think it’s okay to use artificial contraception. But what about non-moral issues, such as the Marian doctrines?)

I cannot answer these questions for myself, let alone for my husband.

All I do know is that, for me, in the end, it came down to a question of unity. If we Christians are supposed to be the Mystical Body of Christ and the Bride of Heaven, then hadn’t we better be together, as one visible body of believers? It has never—ever—made sense to me that there are all these different churches. That there are thousands upon thousands of different denominations, all claiming to know what’s right and splitting up if not everyone agrees. Unity among Christians is never going to happen if we all of us stay in our separate little churches and refuse to cooperate, compromise, and accept each other.

We all know that the Roman Catholic church screwed up big-time in the past. But it is still the Catholic church. It’s the biggest and has the most influence over the most people. I am firmly convinced that if Christians are ever to have that unity we so desperately need, the Catholic church is going to have to be at the helm, with the grace of God and the love and prayers of many finally making it happen.

Will it happen? Probably not in our lifetime. I just came to a place in my own life where I knew that if I was going to be a Christian, I was going to have to become a Catholic or forgo church attendance altogether. I’ve done that whole “Jesus and me” thing, and I have to say that, for me, at least, it was not terribly effective. We’re meant to be in community with each other—the Bible says that very clearly.

My husband is a Lutheran because he feels they “get things just about right.” He knows the Lutheran church is not perfect. But unless and until he feels God prompting him, unquestionably, to go elsewhere, that is where he is going to stay.

And I am proud of him for that. I truly am.

*

Now I’m off to finish packing for our trip to St. Pete. Have a fantastic 4th of July, everyone!

Yesterday, the dog went missing.

I let him out in the morning before we left for church. Then, we came home right after the service, so I decided to head straight back out to attend the 10:15 Mass—I didn’t even go into the house, just hopped in the driver’s seat and took off.

Brian made ham ‘n’ bean soup for Sunday dinner, and even with the fragrance of the cooking ham in the air, the dog did not make an appearance in the kitchen. Nor did he show up while we were eating. That was odd, but I figured he was just hiding somewhere either sleeping or cowering in fear from the weather. (Dodger is deathly afraid of thunder and lightning, and even a light sprinkle will have him shaking in his little doggy paws. It’s been thundering almost constantly for a week, and raining off and on.)

At 8:30 p.m., when the boys were getting set for bed, we still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the dog. I went searching the house, calling, looking under beds. Nothing.

I started to panic. Often, when we come home from being out and about, he’ll greet us at the door, even coming out into the driveway in his excitement over our return. I couldn’t remember seeing him that morning when we got back, but it occurred to me that he may have come out and then not gone back in. Brian and Urban went in, and I drove off in the van with the little boys. What if he was just out there all alone, and what if he started sniffing the ground and walking…..? It would not be unusual at all for him to drift from our yard, especially since he’s old and can barely see for cataracts over both eyes.

[Here I must inform you that Dodger is the last of three pets we've had. One of our cats went berserk after we moved to Texas and ran out onto a busy road and got hit by an SUV. The other cat went berserk after the move to North Carolina. He just took off one day and never came back. So we've been through the stress of losing pets before. Lesson: Cats don't like moving!]

I’d already gotten my pajamas on, but I just couldn’t relax. So I changed back into regular clothes, grabbed a flashlight and my cellphone, and went out to walk the neighborhood. As I was stressing out and preparing to go, Brian was sitting calmly on the couch, grading papers. He’s not a worrier, and he’s not terribly fond of the dog, either. (The dog can be a pain in the butt, it’s true. Most of us in the family are driven nuts by him at least once or twice a week. But he’s our pet, and we do love him in spite of his goofy tendencies.)

So there I was, walking the neighborhood at 9 p.m. It was almost dark. And then it started to rain. I didn’t find the dog. I did hear a bunch of dogs barking on the other side of one of the lakes—Dodger would have have to have wandered awfully far to get way over there. But he’d been missing for about 11 hours, so it was certainly possible.

When I got back to the house, I stood in the driveway in the pouring rain, praying to God to please protect my poor little dog and bring him home safely. I asked Mary and Joseph and Lucy and Jude to pray with me for the return of the dog. But oh, I was so sure I was not going to see him again.

Came back in and continued worrying, tried to come up with a game plan for how I would start searching for the dog the next day—talk to the neighbors, call the animal shelter and the vet, make posters. Just the thought of all that got me even more stressed. Not to mention the fact that we’re planning a trip to Mom and Dad’s over the 4th. What if someone found the dog and we weren’t even here to claim him?

I try so hard not to be a worrywart, but I’m my grandmother’s granddaughter and my mother’s daughter: I worry in spite of myself.

Went to bed and knew I was in for a long, sleepless night of worry. Imaging my poor little pet out in the driving rain, scared out of his (very few) wits. How would he ever make it home?

I was so tense, my stomach was churning.

And then Brian popped his head in the door and said, “Kim, Dodger’s under the bed in the playroom. He won’t come out.”

I wanted to laugh! At myself, at Brian, at the dog. “Thank God!” I said. And I meant it!

We went into the playroom. “How on earth did he get under there?” Trust me, the toys in the playroom were about a foot deep just then. I’ve done some clean up today, but last night, there were so many stuffed animals and books, even right around the edge of the bed, that it didn’t seem possible to me that the dog could have gotten under there. That’s why I hadn’t bothered to look.

Finally, we coaxed him out from under the bed. He looked at me with his big brown glazed-over eyes, then turned around and went straight back to where he’d been. He didn’t come out until this morning, around 6:30.

What’s interesting to me is the difference I felt, physically, between being sick with worry and being so suddenly relieved of that stress. And then, too, as the adrenaline stopped pumping, it was the weirdest feeling—all those tensed up muscles just letting go. I wanted to weep, it felt so good to have that burden lifted.

But all this did make me resolve to keep a closer eye on things in the future!

Have you ever seen The Parent Trap?  The one with Hayley Mills, I mean.  I’d nearly forgotten how much I love that movie, it had been so long since I’d watched it last.

Last night I was feeling restless.  Had a bunch of clothes to fold and didn’t feel like listening to the radio.  There was nothing on TV, and I felt like I needed a laugh or two.  So I popped in The Parent Trap.  I started out watching it in the bedroom, but then Brian came in and seemed sort of interested, so we ended up watching it in the living room, on the big TV.

Oh, how we laughed.  That is just a great, great movie.  Such a cute plot, and such hilarious characters.

(The modern, Lyndsay Lohan version is good, too, but somehow not as clean and fresh as the original.)

I was really into Hayley Mills movies back in high school.  I seem to remember writing an English paper (a “research” paper) entitled “The Films of Hayley Mills.”  I probably got a terrible grade on it, but it gave me a nice excuse to read all about Mills and the various actors and film people involved in making movies like The Parent Trap, Pollyanna, Summer Magic, That Darn Cat.

It’s easy to get in a groove of only watching period pieces like Pride & Prejudice and such or modern “chick flicks” like Clueless and 13 Going on 30.  Delightful movies, all, but sometimes it’s so refreshing to revisit the favorites from my youth.

If you haven’t watched The Parent Trap in years and years (or ever!), I highly recommend it.   After all, laughter is so good for the soul.

There are lots of them, actually.

But the one that has become glaringly apparent to me just recently is this:  Here I have been praying and praying (and feeling guilty for not praying enough) for my husband to become Catholic.

I’ve been frustrated, wondered why he couldn’t see the so-very-obvious (to me and other Catholic converts) aspects of Truth and Authority.

And then someone mentioned a third thing: Grace. And then someone else mentioned a fourth: Desire.

I have known—and been aware that I have known—since even before we got married, that my husband is simply not as spiritually inclined as I am. He is happy to go to church on Sunday, as long as the church he is going to is familiar—the Lutheran church of his youth. (Even a Lutheran church that is not like the church of his youth is unacceptable to him.) He is willing to be minimally involved—help with kids’ Sunday school, attend an adult one, be a lectern (read the Scripture verses out loud to the congregation)—but only on Sunday, pretty much. I hate to say that he is a “Sunday Christian,” because that makes it sound like he’s a big jerk the rest of the week, which is just not true. However, “If the shoe fits…..”

Back in our college days, I was involved with a Christian group on campus. I had friends there, loved the weekly meetings. My husband (then my boyfriend), when I brought him along, hated them, and I made the mistake of dropping the group altogether because of that.

In spring of my junior year, I decided I wanted to spend the summer as a counselor at a kids’ Bible camp. My husband didn’t want me to go. He said he was afraid I would come back and say I’d “grown, spiritually.” Somehow, he thought that if I did this (”grow, spiritually”), it would be the end of our relationship. In the end, he got a job at the same camp. He hated it. I spent a lot of my free time soothing his ruffled feathers. I did not “grow, spiritually” that summer. Nor did I make any friends.

Water under the bridge.

The point I am trying to make is that I have been praying for the wrong thing. My novena to St. Jude (Patron Saint of Lost Causes) back in November—completely focused on the wrong thing.

How could I have missed this?

I need not be praying for my husband to become a Catholic. What I *ought* to be praying for is that his heart would be moved towards the Lord in the first place. I need to be praying for Grace. Without it, there is no hope for him to truly become the spiritual head of our household, let alone to open his heart to Truth or to consider the existence of an Authority within Christendom.

I would say I’ve been wasting my time, praying for his conversion to Catholicism. But I know that no prayer ever goes unwasted, even prayers that aren’t quite what they ought to be. However, I am grateful to the recent experiences that have pointed me in the direction of my need to pray for the right thing.

And even if it seems to make no difference, at least it will make very good sense.

I’ve been doing loads of writing lately—just not on this blog, I’m afraid. The novel I am working on is taking up all the space in my brain, and I’ve found myself either unable or unwilling (or maybe both) to come up with new ideas to share with you here at Epistles from Echowood.

But then last night I had the opportunity to meet and chat with some friends from church—people I’d gone through RCIA with over a year ago—and I found myself telling them how blogging has been such a blessing to me, how I’ve met so many interesting people and been able to use my own faith struggles to encourage others. Just talking about it made me realize that I’ve missed “being here.” And so many things that were discussed sparked an inspiration within me to write again.

So I’ve got some neat things I’d like to share. I’ll try to space them out, one day at a time, so as not to overwhelm.

Also, a few weeks ago, I had begun to compose a page called “The Story of My Conversion.” It wasn’t going well, though, and I abandoned it. I think I was spending too much time talking about my earliest years as a Christian, when all the actually interesting stuff happened so much later. I’m going to go back to that page and start again. I’m not sure how many of my friends read this blog, but it seems many strangers are drawn here because of the unique situation I am in (being in a Catholic/Lutheran marriage). I need to talk more about that. (But mostly, I need to stop saying, “I’m going to talk more about that.” I need to actually DO IT!)

While I know it kind of seems like I’ve dropped off the face of the earth lately, I am, in fact, still on the planet. My head, however, has been in the clouds, plotting and planning and writing my book.

I hope you are all having a beautiful summer!