Forming Daily Prayer Habits

This month's Bright Maidens blog topic is daily devotions. It's perfect timing because I'm in the middle of learning a new one. My in-laws gave us a copy of Shorter Christian Prayer for Christmas, so we're trying to use it together every day.

Praying the Liturgy of the Hours together is something we've talked about doing for a long time. It seems like a good fit for us. I usually prefer psalms to the rosary. The Southern Baron has to make his own schedule while he's dissertating, so he likes the automatic structure of marking morning, evening, and night. Plus the vintage 1988 illustrations take us back to our childhood. Doesn't that old school CCD textbook vibe make you feel cozy and nostalgic?

It's easier said than done, though. There are a lot of different parts of the script to juggle. The opening hymn usually becomes a round of "let's sing along with a YouTube video." And even though this was my idea in the first place, once the novelty wore off I started to balk. Sometimes when my husband reaches for the little book, I feel like whining "Do I hafta??" 

I'm glad the Southern Baron is more dedicated than I. He reminds me that if we stick with it, evening prayer after dinner will  become part of our routine.  Even if I'm reluctant sometimes, I know that talking to God is better than running on empty. Reciting alternate verses of psalms and canticles is a collaboration, and gives us a chance to work as a team. We hope that one day our kids will be singing the Marian antiphons along with us. And if they whine "Do I hafta?" I'll encourage them that it gets easier once you power through the doldrums. 

Recognizing Your Saints

This month's Bright Maidens blogging prompt is about saint stories. The Communion of Saints is one of my favorite things about being Catholic. As an historian, I love this personal connection to the past. (Who wouldn't want to communicate with their personal heroes from past centuries?) The holy people we hear about in scripture and Church history aren't just distant, foreboding role models of unattainable perfection. They're our brothers and sisters who root for us and want to be our friends.

Finding your patron saints is an unpredictable process.Sometimes you're naturally drawn to someone whose personality is like yours or whose story excites you. At other times someone unknown collides with your life in an unexpected way. There are too many saints to know them all, however, and you can't force a patron connection. Just because a friend has a fanatical devotion to St. Anthony doesn't mean you must, too. Believe me, I have tried many times to make St. Therese of Lisieux happen, but we just don't seem destined to be BFFs. Instead, my journey through life has brought other interesting holy people into my path.

When I was a 14 year old confirmandus, I decided to be an ornery hipster and pick an underdog saint no one else had ever heard of. Cecelia, Teresa, and Mary were waaay too played out. An obscure Catholic coloring book led me to St. Philomena, an early virgin martyr so obscure she doesn't have a feast day anymore. But her execution story was epic, the stories of miracles surrounding her relics were exciting, and more mainstream St. John Vianney was a fan. Looking back, she was actually the perfect choice for my future career. Contested historical narratives, 19th century archaeological finds, and popular cults surrounding artifacts are some of my favorite research topics. Whether Diocletian really had the hots for her or not, the spiritual significance of her intercession can't be denied.

Since then I've found new favorite saints in a way that suggests they have chosen me, or at least that Divine Providence has led me to them. St. Vincent de Paul meant nothing to me until a Methodist friend of a friend in college told me about the Vincentian Service Corps and got me started on my service year in Missouri. While I was there I gained new affection for not only the Vincentian family of saints, but also St. Louis, King of France. This summer I got married in a church that happened to be named after St. Veronica, whose name means "true image." This could make her the patron of photography, a hobby my husband and I have shared since our earliest dates.

Lately I've been on the lookout for saintly role models who were married women, not teenage girls who swore off boys and then met violent ends. Ironically, this has brought me back to the very beginning of my patron saint history - the ones who share my name. My middle name is Elizabeth. When I was a little girl, I liked St. Elizabeth of Hungary of best since she was a queen, and therefore had the prettiest clothes. Recently I've realized that she, and Mother Seton, and even John the Baptist's mother, were all married women who loved their husbands and children. As I embark on a new phase of life living my vocation as a wife, I feel like these women are reaching out to their namesake, offering their support.

 Domenico Ghirlandaio,  Zacharias Writes Down the Name of his Son
1486-90, Fresco Cappella Tornabuoni, Santa Maria Novella, Florence

Can Motherhood and Graduate Degrees Mix?

I'm late to the party for this week's Bright Maidens topic, but I've really been enjoying everyone's contributions. The dilemma of stay-at-home mom vs. working mom is one that I wrestle with. I'm still asking God to show me the proper balance between my scholarly goals and my desire for motherhood.

Source

I'm blessed to have a mother who left her physical therapy career to raise her children full-time. My mom hasn't been formally employed for 27 years, but I've always known that she works as hard as any CEO. Creating a loving home and family is her mission in life, and I admire her dedication to it. As the oldest of 5 kids, I was her assistant from an early age. I'm proud of the skills I've learned at home. I can cook for a crowd, grocery shop strategically, hem pants, plant flowers, paint a living room, and jump-start a car.

On the other hand, I can identify with some women's professional angst . Grad school messes with your head in many ways, and that includes how you think about parenthood. After spending years of blood, sweat, and tears on an advanced degree, all you can think about is getting a job that will let you use it. When you make the "terrible life choice" of grad school, you make a commitment to a field you are passionate about. I didn't set out to follow a different path than my mom, it just happened that way.

When I graduated from college with no marriage prospects, I figured I might as well pay the bills doing something I loved. Thanks to Divine Providence, I started a competitive master's program ... and met my future husband two weeks into the school year. The Betrothed's love for history and Catholic family life both made me fall in love with him. I had happy daydreams of us being one of those faculty couples beloved around campus for their dinner parties, cute kids, campus ministry involvement, and banter-filled joint lectures. Here was someone who understood all the things that I valued, both sacred and secular.

It's sad to see how children can be a professional afterthought for academics. Some people in our fields would say to delay kids until tenure or several job promotions. (Waiting for pregnancy until your late 30s always works out well, right?)


That kind of attitude looks at just half the picture. Scholarly publications can feel like birthing a child, but they don't really go on to have developing lives of their own. They sit on shelves collecting dust until someone makes future grad students read them. Academia doesn't love me back, or need me to teach it what life is about. Sitting alone in an archive is cold and lonely. No one coos about how adorable your Chapter 6 footnotes are. (If they do, they need help.)


When I see examples of women writing dissertations while pregnant, I feel like there is hope in the world. It may not be possible to have it "all," but I would love to try to have at least some. I deeply desire to have a family with my historian fiance, but I have also been fighting long and hard to break into the museum field. Both parts of my life are valuable to me.

Making family a priority might be a counter-cultural choice that will keep me from becoming a super-famous and powerful curator, but I'm ok with that.When I freak out the logistics of my future motherhood, The Betrothed is always level-headed. He reassures me that his professor schedule won't be a typical 9 to 5 gig. Sometimes he'll gently chide me, saying "Hey, you're forgetting that there's another adult in the equation here!" It's so encouraging to know that raising a family is a project we'll tackle together. As Jen Fulweiler recently pointed out, fatherhood is a man's vocation, not his career.

So what kind of mom will I be? I have no idea.  Will The Betrothed and I be able to balance our work schedules so one of us is always home? Will I chase after little ones during the day and then work on a journal article after they're in bed? Will I leave my field altogether, or will I go back for a PhD once the kids are school-aged? It's too soon to tell. For now I just have to keep asking God how I'm supposed to serve him with all my abilities.

Any over-educated moms out there? I'd love to know how/if you balance scholarship and parenthood.

Coffee with Literary Crushes

Happy feast of St. Valentine, everyone!
I am excited about this week's nerdtastic Bright Maidens topic: literary crushes. It's too hard for me to choose just one, so here's a craft project that mentions almost all my favorites. Do check out graphic designer Sarah Fritzler's  post about how to make DIY literary quote mugs on the cheap. She quotes heroes of Pride and Prejudice, Emma, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Little Women, Jane Eyre, Anne of Green Gables and Casablanca. 

Messers Darcy and Knightly are totally swoonworthy, but let's not forget Jane Austen's other romantic heroes, like the ever-so-steadfast Captain Wentworth: 

"You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. ... I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes?" Persuasion, Ch. 11

And then there's Henry Tilney, the totally underrated hero of Northanger Abbey. He's the king of witty banter. 

“Now I must give one smirk, and then we may be rational again." 

If he were around today, he'd be into blogging. (Emphasis mine.)

"Not keep a journal! How are your absent cousins to understand the tenour of your life in Bath without one? ... How are your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and curl of your hair to be described in all their diversities, without having constant recourse to a journal? ...Everybody allows that the talent of writing agreeable letters is peculiarly female. Nature may have done something, but I am sure it must be essentially assisted by the practice of keeping a journal.”

And he likes to read.

“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.” 

I've mentioned before how fictional falling in love pales in comparison to the real thing, but that doesn't mind I don't find pleasure in a good novel. It doesn't have to be Jane Austen either.

John Waterhouse's 1888 painting of the Lady of Shalott.
Via  Wikimedia commons.

When I was a senior in high school, all the English poetry we were reading in class put us girls in a hyper-romantic state. When we weren't gushing over Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese ("God's plans put man's best dreams to shame"), we were fighting over who got to read "The Lady of Shalott" in class. 


Then one of the girls got us all hooked on Christian romance novels. Robin Jones Gunn's Glenbrooke series is about 8 different women who live in or pass through a small town in Oregon. One by one they confront problems in their lives, strengthen their relationships with Jesus, and find handsome husbands in the process. What's really fun about the series is how previous heroines show up in later stories. You get to see how their happily-ever-afters pan out. We all debated which love story was the best. Was it the girl running from her past rescued by the handsome firefighter in Book 1? Or the flight attendant in Book 5 who reunited with an old flame in Germany? 


My favorite was always Book 3, Echoes, where Lauren strikes up email correspondence with an anonymous fellow Christian. They bond over poetry and Irish Breakfast tea, but she chickens out when they arrange a meeting in person.Don't worry, (SPOILER) they run into each other in Hawaii later. 


 I don't know what drew me to the story; maybe it was the nerdtastic literary element. Maybe my historian brain liked the primary source documentary record of their courtship. Either way, I probably wouldn't have believed it if you told my 18-year old self that six years later I would fall into a long-distance romance that began online. Putting man's best dreams to shame  indeed. 

Unicorns in Our Midst: 21st Century Virgins

"Being a Virgin in this day and age is something to be proud of; you're like a unicorn."  - Shirley to Annie in Season 1 of Community

This week the Bright Maidens blogging group is reviewing TLC's new series "The Virgin Diaries." I have only two positive things to say about the show.

First, the historian in me is pleased TLC has documented so many subculture groups, religious and not, for posterity. In a century or so, someone will give a conference paper about how agnostic post-modernity liked to gawk at Mormon polygamists, Muslims in Michigan, homeschooling Arkansas residents with 20 kids, and those rare 5-10% of American adults who have never had sex. Did these Millenial viewers lump such fringe groups in with little people, toddler beauty queens, and wedding dress consultants?

Second, watching the trailers for this show made me very grateful for Theology of the Body. Normally I resist the Catholic cliches chastity explanations that are basically OMGJP2TOB!!1!11! But when I got nauseous seeing that newlywed couple awkwardly chewing each other's faces off, I couldn't help but think they needed to read some Love and Responsibility.

Our lips, our hands, our bodies, and our sexuality are part of our God-given human dignity. They are not dangerous, uncontrollable temptations to keep at a ten-foot distance so we can brag about how careful our courtships are. Marriage is more than just a license for intercourse, just as chastity is more than keeping one's legs crossed until vows permit unbridled release of all that pent-up tension.

So yeah, I was a little annoyed at TLC's editing that found drama in every facial expression and double entendres in playground equipment. But mostly I was angry at the yahoos who decided to broadcast their most personal lives on television, making a mockery of something that is precious, and sadly, rare.

I'm 26, and I am part of that virgin 5-10%. You might not realize when we unicorns (or mermaids) walk among you, because most us don't act like maladjusted circus freaks. Neither do we walk around wagging disapproving fingers at our peers who haven't made the same life choice. We have social lives, creative interests, and affectionate dating relationships. The only thing that makes us different is our commitment to a difficult spiritual and physical goal that challenges who we are at our very core.

Chastity is something I have to choose every day. I don't choose it because I am afraid of sex, or of getting pregnant or an STD. I don't choose it just because it's honorable, or how my parents raised me, or because I've been told it's a sin. I don't choose it just so my wedding night (a few brief hours of my life) will be special. As Bing Crosby says in White Christmas, "That's not good, but it's a reason."

Ultimately, I have to make this choice for myself, because I believe it will make me a happier, holier person in the long run. It has a to be a lived acknowledgement of the divine transformation I believe happens in the Sacrament of Marriage. It has to be an integral part of my relationship with God, who loves me first and most.


As  agnostic-turned-Jew-turned Episcopalian-turned-chastity enthusiast Lauren Winner described it,

"Remember that God desires your person, your body, more than any man or woman ever will."

Facebook has boundaries issues

This week's Bright Maidens topic is about PDA in the digital age. Here are my two cents.

StuffChristianCultureLikes.Com

We've all seen it in our Facebook news feeds. The sappy  wall posts. The albums of smchoopy, kissy face photos. The googly-eyed status updates about how crazy in love they are with their amazing significant other. Liberal use of the nickname "Pookie," which should not be applied to anyone over age 5.

Sometimes, internet-age oversharing makes me want to gag.

Thanks to reality TV and Mark Zuckerberg's persistent idea that we want to publish the minutiae of our lives, seeing intimate moments play out in public seems normal. On dating game shows like the Bachelorette and Flavor of Love, an entire nation can watch a semi-celebrity go one dates and whispers sweet nothings with not just one, but multiple people. Thanks to social media, we can eavesdrop on personal wall conversations and see the details of someone's vacation without talking to them. So is it any wonder that internet PDA can seem like a requisite part of a "real" relationship? That if you don't brag about it on Facebook, it isn't official?

Sure, when you first fall for someone or get eneaged, you want to shout it from the rooftops. You tell all your friends, gush about how you're in love with a wonderful guy, or scream "I love this woman" in an Italian piazza. An FB post about your 10th anniversary can be a great witness to the commitment marriage requires. And sweet understated gestures like holding hands or an arm across the back of their chair shows the world you are proud to be connected to the person you love.

Still, your friends want to focus on the intimate, day-to-day events of their own families and relationships. I think perpetrators of online PDA need to consider why they are using that medium. Wouldn't a private text message, email, or FB message be just as effective? Does this show a simple lack of boundaries or a deeper need to brag about how awesome one's life is? Especially as Christians, do we need to one-up each other with declarations about "God's perfect plan for my life," or how "blessed" we are?

Just a thought. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to visit The Beau in New Jersey for the weekend. I won't bore you with the details :-P

Living with Scapulars

Bright Maidens Topic 18: Scapulars.
Props to Julie for that picture of poor wretched Mel Gibson that I cannot unsee.

My well-worn crocheted scapular,
and a dainty plastic one. 

Talking about scapulars makes me think of Swimming With Scapulars, a fun little young adult Catholic memoir by Matthew Lickona. He talks about growing up Catholic, entering adulthood at Thomas Aquinas College, and married life with the wife he met there. Along the way Lickona dishes about things like prayer, penance, bourbon, first kisses, NFP, and of course, wearing a scapular to the beach.

I never take mine swimming; I'm always afraid I'll lose it in the deep end. Neither does my scapular make appearances in the neckline of formal dresses. But my high school scapular certainly had souvenirs of its adventurous life, including paint from the trailer home I helped repair on a summer service trip. I prefer the sturdy, crocheted cords that moms at my high school make. Those dainty little plastic scapulars are cute but their strings seem fragile.

This week's topic got me thinking - why do I wear a scapular? Because I got enrolled in sixth grade at school? Because it's a handy holder for a Miraculous Medal? Or is it because I'm afraid of dying in a car crash and going to hell?

When I was a young teen, there was definitely some attachment to the "get into heaven free" card. At worst, this is superstition, but at best the scapular promise is peaceful assurance. If you're going to bother to wear the Mother of God around your neck, there's a pretty good chance that faith is important to you, and that you'll make peace with her Son in your final moments. So stop fretting about salvation and live a holy life.

Today, I don't think about my scapular much, except when it flops out and some well-meaning colleague gets confused when she offers to tuck in "the tag from my blouse." I should think about it more often. When I do, those little wool tags feel like a badge of honor, part of my uniform as a soldier of Christ. It's just a little way to show my allegiance to Our Lord and His Mother. It also gives a feeling of solidarity with the many religious orders who wear the full-sized version. I don't go around telling people they should wear one too; I'm very hesitant to market anything as the magic bullet of sanctity. For me, though, my scapular is a comforting, familiar reminder of the type of person I want to be.

Emotional Chastity: What Would Miss Austen Do?

Here is my belated contribution to this week's Bright Maidens blog topic: Emotional Chastity.

It's a rite of passage that happened every summer I worked at "high school history camp": a group of teenage girls discovered Jane Austen movie adaptations. The best reactions came from Ang Lee's exquisite 1995 version of Sense and Sensibility. (Spoiler alert, if you have been under a rock for the 200 years since the novel was written.)

Why is a good man in breeches so hard to find?

SWOON! as Willoughby scoops up injured Marianne as if she "weighed no more than a dried leaf." GASP! when he later betrays her affections. MOURN! for Elinor when Lucy Steele's "prior claims" threaten to separate her from Edward forever. CHEER! the final happy ending.

And after the credits roll, you just might pine for your own dashing waistcoat on horseback, ready to woo you with flowers, sonnets, and heroic deeds.

As much as I love movies of  Jane's books, I do have to admit that they carry a subtle temptation for women to objectify men. Instead of viewing them as complex persons, we might value them solely for their potential to give us the romantic costume-drama experiences we desire. Consider, for example, this brilliant but ridiculous video.



Taken to an extreme, this is emotional porn - just the exciting payoff without any of the patience, sacrifice, and real love that a relationship demands.

In chastity-minded circles, Austen novels are popular PG-rated romantic entertainment for young women. After all, the heroes are polite, the heroines are virtuous, and a  marriage commitment is their goal. That's all well and good, but Austen's true genius lies not in wholesomeness but in wry social commentary. One of the lessons her heroines often learn is not to be too in love with love. Heartbreak almost destroys Marianne Dashwood, while Emma Woodhouse's obsession with matchmaking blinds her to authentic relationships.

Austen's underappreciated first novel, Northanger Abbey, bases the entire plot on Catherine Morland's silly obsession with Gothic novels. Reading too many 19th century equivalents of Twilight has made her suspect horrid drama around every corner. In the end, she assumes dreadful things about her suitor and his family, putting a budding romance in jeopardy. The snarky point is clear: ladies, lay off the fiction and interact with some real people for a change.

Not gonna lie, I still love a good petticoat-filled chick flick. In his first email to me, my boyfriend got my attention by asking what I thought about the 2008 adaptation of S&S. (A shrewd move on his part.) But a week after our first date, I found myself flipping through one of those Pride and Prejudice happily-ever-after sequels at Barnes & Noble. Suddenly, the manufactured plot of Regency romance was unfullfilling. Mr. Darcy was charming enough, but he wasn't as intriguing as the red-headed southern boy whom I could learn about in hours of real-life conversation. The Beau had talents, opinions, dreams, and memories that could fill more than just one volume. I put the book back on the shelf, ready to find greater satisfaction in writing my own love story.

The Morning Star

This week the Bright Maidens are considering the topic "Mary Our Guide." I've only got time for a quick post this week, but here's what that phrase immediately think of: Mary's title as the Morning Star

In astronomy, the morning star refers to Venus, a planet named for the goddess of love, fertility, and femininity. Venus travels close to the sun inside the earth's orbit, and so sometimes the planet is traveling ahead of the sun in earth's range of visibility. When that happens, the "morning star" appears very bright to us on earth just before the sunrise.

Christians adapted this mythological astronomy to describe Mary, the mother of God. It really makes perfect sense: the woman whose femininity and fertility are forever connected to God travels close to her Son; her bright sinless life heralding His arrival.

There's even a great line in the Mass propers for Mary's birthday on September 8.
"Your birth, O Virgin Mary, gives joy to the whole world, for from you arose the glorious Sun of Justice, Christ our Lord."

Mary always points to Christ, showing us the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

And like any friend's mom eager to tell stories about your friend's childhood, she also can help us understand her Son's life. Especially through the mysteries of the rosary, she can help us ponder things in our hearts just like she did. Pope John Paul II's letter Rosarium Virginis Mariae really helped me understand this. The rosary is not about tediously pronouncing 50+ prayers, it's about contemplating the face of Christ. "This is the task of every follower of Christ and therefore the task of each one of us."
May Mary the Morning Star help us to do that every day.

Shrine to Mary at St. Francis Xavier College Church, St. Louis University