Let the children come to me...

I brought the boys for a quick visit to Jesus the other day.

No one was in the chapel... every mom's relief when she goes to visit Jesus with three little boys.

They ran in. I cautioned them to slow down, no running.

I explained like I always do that Jesus was there in the tabernacle. I suggested they talk to Him. 

Well, they got really really close. I cautioned them, "Not so close, guys." But, why? Why not up there right next to him, sitting on their knees? Talking to him like a best friend? Or a father? Their dad doesn't tell them to back up when they come to sit at his feet to talk or listen. So, I let them be. And as always, my children taught me something in their great simplicity. We must always come to Him like a child. Up close. So close. And sit at his feet. That is where He wants us. I am certain. So, I took a picture as to not forget this lesson they taught me.

Thank you, Lord, for teaching me through these little souls. 

He's in control, baby

It just so happens that when you ask the good Lord for something, He gives it to you...  I feel like in the moments of my day where I do have time to pray, I am always asking him with a sincere heart to take my life and do whatever He wants with it. I use to be somewhat of a control freak, very anxious, wanting everything perfect and very impatient about it. It's still in there. But He has a way of sanctifying all that we are, especially when we ask. He strips us of everything to fill us up with holiness and self sacrifice to make us more like Him.

I love the homily Fr. Steve gave last week at Mass. He was speaking of rituals young boys have gone through throughout history to be initiated as a man. There was 4 common goals in these rituals and he compared them to the Christian life. (Because, yes, being a real man and a Christian are certainly two high standards that have much in common). He listed them as such: 1) Life is hard  2) You will die  3)You are not as important as you think you are  4) Your life is not about you

It was all very inspiring. And a great reminder to me of what the Christian path looks like. It's not about me. It's a total self giving, self sacrificial life. One point I have been reflecting on about self giving is self giving in marriage in particular. One of the easiest "rules" or should I say "teachings" of the Church for me has always been the issue of birth control. By its very nature, my heart has always understood on a very practical level and also a very spiritual level the meaning and depth behind this law. It is not in our right to take the gift of fertility out of the hands of God and into ours. Along with the harm it does to our bodies, the chance of chemical induced abortions that are caused by the pill, and the way it destroys marriages, taking out the "possibility of life" and leaving only the pleasure to remain. But, I have to say that now, more than ever this has been a challenge for me... not because my understanding has gone away, but because I have come to a point of real surrender to God. I am in a moment where I am exposed, out of control, and in a place I could argue (maybe), I did not choose.

This has left me scrambling for answers. How do I explain now that NFP works? Especially if I followed the rules. How do I explain now that I am not an idiot? Or irresponsible? But, then I realize, these are not the questions I need to be asking. It is not about NFP. It is not about what others think or even what I think of myself. It is about God. It is about trusting in Him. It is about letting all my control go and letting Him choose what is best for me even when I discern something different. It is a complete surrender to His divine plan. A plan that He hopes will make us more like Him. "This is my body, given up for you."

It will take me a lifetime to figure out how to surrender. Holiness comes slowly. It comes very
s l o w l y. When I pray for a generous heart, at this moment, he is not allowing me to cook more meals for people who are struggling. When I pray for more patience, he does not only want me to be better at waiting in line. When I pray for everything to be in order, his order is different than my idea of order. Generosity comes from allowing him to take my life, however he wants to. Patience comes from waiting for 16 weeks to feel better from morning sickness, and another 24 to get through the back discomfort, the restless legs and the heartburn. The order he wants, it must come from me ordering my life through the tiny souls He has entrusted me and the daily tasks to help them survive.

Baby Bentley #4 is due April 3rd. Our most unexpected expectation! After a week of tears, I came to realize more than ever the gift and miracle that I have been entrusted with... and that life is hard, I am going to die, it's not about me and I am certainly not as important as I think. On the other hand, to God I am so important... so much so that He made no mistake in giving me this gift. So, now I accept it with a full and open heart.

Thank you to a husband who celebrates, pulls SO much weight and just loves on me every single time we find out we are expecting. For a man who has no limits in his giving. Already, he lets me nap more, makes me eggs the moment I wake up to help curve the sickness, and pushes through those difficult moments of kitchen clean up and dirty diapers for Adam. I could not manage this path of fidelity to God without you. It is very hard. But, it is an eternal soul, who will exist for all time. My child is worth mountains of sacrifice and love and suffering.

I want to offer this pregnancy for some intentions very close to my heart. For those who have been told they may no longer have babies. For those who want a child so badly and can not. For those who have a difficult time conceiving. For those who have recently had a miscarriage. For those who lack appreciation for their fertility. And lastly, for those who are pregnant often, struggling through the tired and sickness, the acceptance and the appreciation for this gift.

Lastly, I will leave you with a part of a beautiful letter a friend sent to me when I expressed I was struggling this time... so tired and so confused at God's plan... she sent me part of a writing by a very holy priest, Fr. Jacques Philippe.

"If we decide to make an effort to achieve some spiritual progress according to our ideas and our own criteria, we are by no means sure to succeed.  As we have seen, there is sometimes a big difference between what God is actually asking of us, and what we imagine he is asking.  We won't have the grace to do what God is not asking of us.  But for what he is asking, he has promised us his grace: God grants what he commands.  When God inspires us to do something (if it really is God who is the source of that inspiration), at the same time he supplies the ability to do it, even if it is beyond our capacity or scares us at the start.  Every motion that comes from God brings both the light to understand what God intends, and the strength to accomplish it: light that illuminates the mind, and strength that gives power to the will."

Let's do this. Totus Tuus. I am totally yours, Lord.

Trying to leave a legacy... of boys.

It is not uncommon to have pj parties, horse riding parties and dance parties in the evenings at our home!

Our youngest and craziest. The hair tells all. He is into everything. He empties the pantry, the cabinets, the toy box and loves to play in the toilet. One toilets now has a gate around it in our home.

Brotherly love.

I just love his cheeks and those little lips.

I love that we have a priest in the family. It is a gift that I will only know the graces from when we enter Heaven. I feel assured that Uncle Fr. Eddie will be key in their discernment of their vocation. He skiis, he eats hotdogs, he plays games, and he celebrates Mass! Just being around him brings so many questions already.

Their dad is their hero. They just adore him. Behind all good men is an amazing father.

Silly goose.

Adam turned one! Sang and ate cake on the dock with all 11 cousins. Couldn't have been better!

Fishing at sunset. I just LOVE this picture. Gotta frame it.

My oldest, who is only 4, skiied for the first time. He is fearless when is comes to water. Always has been. We call him our little Michael Phelps.

I want them to learn to love. I want them to know what respect is and how to take care of what they have, whether its a little or a lot. I want them to know how important their siblings are and the value in taking care of one another. I want them to learn patience and perseverance. I want them to have a great appreciation for life. I want them to know how to ski and fish and swim and run and jump. I want them to set goals and keep their hearts fixed on accomplishing them, even if they are small. I want them to appreciate their time together and always love to dance. I want them to know Jesus. Really know him. In an intimate way. So they speak to Him every day. I want them to know how much their dad and I love them. Because we really do. I want them to know that even though we have weak moments and sometimes are impatient and sometimes are grumpy, that that's not the standard to live by. I want them to know that the Church and all it teaches is the greatest gift they are given as a compass in life. I want them to know how hard I have worked to start this school, so one day they will appreciate the time they have had at home, to learn and be together. I want them to know that they are worth something and God created them for a purpose, a vocation, a very specific way to love. I want to leave a legacy of these three young men behind one day. Three young men (and maybe more) who know how to be a real man, who love Jesus, and know Love in the spiritual sense and the human sense.

Praying today for all parents. Those who are struggling to fight the values the world uphold. For those who are not able to be with their kids often. For those who have husbands deployed. For those who are just simply fighting the good fight. And I pray for the grace to help guide my little souls to all good things.

Love your husband... the rest will follow...

Patrick and I just celebrated our 6th anniversary. It has flown. I say that... but, we have moved 2 times, had 3 babies, held 6 different jobs between the two of us to make ends meat, and got a PhD... and now, we are starting a school. God has provided soo much. I look back and cannot believe the countless graces, unexpected gifts, and amazing joy He has given to us. It has been tough and we have both worked hard, but every moment has sanctified and brought us closer to Our Lord Jesus.

About a month ago I was asking advice from someone I really respect about a certain situation in my life that I have been struggling with. I asked, "What should I do? What should I say? How do I act? Should I make a phone call about it? Should I yell about it? How can I make a difference?" She told me she knew exactly what I should do. First, stop worrying about it. Anxiety and fear never comes from God. Second, when the time does come, an honest open heart and a simple prayer to the Holy Spirit would do it. Don't make big plans to say grand things. God will help me. And lastly, she told me she had the key to everything. Drumroll, I thought to myself. I am ready for the magically and life changing answer. She told me that if I ever wanted to make a difference in anyone's life, that I need to love my husband as best I could. To make him first and foremost (next to Jesus of course) and that the rest would follow. That is all. That is what changes the world. Love my husband.

Thankful for the vocation of wife and mother today. Praying to be more faithful every day.

There are have been so many graces, but here is the first one...

It was one year ago on May 13th that I began my consecration to the Blessed Mother. I chose the 13th of May because it is rare a consecration would begin on that day, since the important detail is that your consecration ends on a feast day of the Blessed Virgin... and last year I took advantage of beginning on the Feast of Our Lady of Fatima. She is near and dear to me mostly because of the experience I had during my pregnancy with Gabriel... which I am happy to share in another post...

So, she never does allow us to outdo her in generosity. She has continued to bless me and give me many special graces during this month where I am celebrating my anniversary to giving my whole life over to Jesus through her. Just a few graces include a random visit to the chapel at EWTN, which we did not intend to do at all, Patrick's graduation from Vanderbilt, a new lake house which our family will spend many summers enjoying, but a place I also believe will be a place for many to find Christ. And lastly a recent detox, which I am almost certain rid my body of a parasite, which has been plaguing me for a few years now... my life is truly changed because of it. I have been in a constant state of struggle with my stomach for as long as I can remember. God is good. So, let me tell you how the month long anniversary began... it is the first grace of all the others...

I was on my way to the park about mid April and got pulled over by a cop car. What a humbling experience with your kids in the car. I have warned them time and time again that the police officer would get them if they were not buckled, didn't stop crying or didn't go to sleep at nap time. And now, look at me. I wasn't speeding. So, what did I do? I was being stopped because my back taillight was out. We meant to fix it but we were away most of the weekend running a retreat so put it off till the next week. It wasn't until he got out of his car and walked closer that my heart stopped beating and my breathing got heavy and I started sweating. I was not certain that my license had been renewed after I had turned 30 the week before. Patrick and I had a conversation that went something like, I will do it for you, ok, but if you really don't have time just tell me what website to go to and I got it. So, did it get done? We would find out soon. Nope. I was driving my three kids around without a license. Not only did the officer hold me there for 45 minutes but he proceeded to take a picture of me, take my prints and give me a court date. What was happening? I am going to court, I thought. No. I had to explain to my kids what had happened and that I wasn't a bad guy and that he wasn't taking me to jail. Then he let me go. We missed our play date at the park and ate our chick fil a picnic in the living room that day. Patrick came home to fix the light and renewed my license online about 30 seconds after I got home. Now, I had a court date. It was the Monday morning after graduation and on the feast of our lady of Fatima. This was the anniversary of the day I began my consecration to the blessed mother last year. I am not sure what she had up her sleeve but I wasn't being receptive to finding out.

What happened on Monday when I went to court was for me another reminder of the way God infuses his grace into my life. He never allows us to outdo him in generosity. It is a great mystery to me how he takes the simplest prayer, the lowliest person, the smallest opening in our hearts and moves mountains. So, let me tell you what happened. 

I arrived like the officer told me to at 6:30am, which meant I woke up at 5am, drug my kids out of bed and over to Jenny's house and Patrick, Adam and I drove downtown. I was third in line and thought, this is going to be a breeze. No prob. Just show them my renewed license and be on my way. They let me in, booked me, took my mug shot, and spent 20 minutes trying to get my prints. The officer ran my fingers and hands over the equipment about 25 times each... With no success and finally gave up and stuck with the partial prints he had. My hands were too dry to get prints. All those dishes did me in. He said he had never seen that before in his life. Afterward my hands were numb and swollen from the amount of times he pushed my little hands over the machine, shoving, pushing, pulling, spraying my hands to get something to work. I finally was told to go to courtroom 1A. I headed down there with Patrick, realized it didn't open till 8am and sent Patrick to get me food. By 8 I headed in, sat like a sardine in the middle of a bunch of smelly people and waited. No judge. 9:30 rolls around and the room is filling up. Still hadn't called me. I snuck into the bathroom stall to eat because they would've taken my food. And then proceeded to nurse Adam in the stall as well because there was nowhere to sit anywhere to nurse. Patrick stood outside the courtroom door to make sure I didn't miss my call and so I wouldn't be placed at the bottom of the pile. I sent them home. I knew it was going to be a long day. 

I waited as patiently as I could. Hours went by. The room continued to fill up. They continued to call names, but not mine. The judge was in and out. The people were restless. The room was tense. I prayed. I was so frustrated. I decided to take advantage of the moments I had there, alone and still. I prayed the rosary. I wished I had a book. I prayed some more. I made really good resolutions. I missed my kids. It was so hot in there. I prayed more. And then, I began to receive lights from God. A year ago I had consecrated myself to the Blessed Virgin, promising her that all of my prayers, sufferings, and everything else would be hers to do what she would like with. In that moment, she told me about the poor souls in purgatory. They awaited the just judge. It was hot. It was crowded. It was a time of impatience. This is what it will be like and you do not want to go there. The judge began to call people up and explain to them that they were there because of their own choice, their own doing. He sentenced them with all sorts of crazy things, from essays, to never going to a wal mart again in their entire life, to taking away their licenses and sending them to jail. What was I doing here? I continued to pray. I just wanted to go home. I knew at that moment that that desire to be home was the desire everyone feels in purgatory. They just want to be where they belong. I saw the sorrow in their faces. I saw the regret. I saw that they did not know that anyone loved them. Charges were called out. Trespassing, simple possession, theft, indecent exposure, disturbing the peace, driving with a suspended license. The consequences hurt. What was I doing in the same room? I did not want to be in there. I was given a newfound desire for Heaven, for skipping purgatory, for pulling myself closer to Christ, and most especially for praying for the poor souls in purgatory. It was all very real to me being there. It was scary. And it was a moment of grace.

It took 5 hours for them to call me up, ask for my renewed license, sign some paper and say, "thank you, Mrs. Bentley, your case has been dismissed, you may go now." I ran out of there as fast as I have ever ran out of anywhere. I called Patrick and begged he come to get me right away. I told him to call me so I could tell him where I was. I wanted to run. I have no sense of direction so I took off in the middle of downtown, heading nowhere. I wondered if I could be smart enough to find my way to St. Mary's so I could pray a while, but was certain that it would be locked.  As I continued on my way, I started to hear the bells ringing. I followed them. I ran faster ad faster! And found the church. It was open and when I walked in, Mass was beginning. I called Patrick to let him know I would be going to Mass. I sat down and cried. What a long morning! What a long run! And now, Mass! The moment I knelt down, I looked up at Mary and she made it clear that I had to go to court, so she could get me alone with her Son. I cannot remember the last time I was able to go to Mass alone. She reminded me that Our Lord would not be outdone I generosity and that He certainly remembered that I had consecrated myself to her. 

To put the icing on the cake, Fr. Baker was there to celebrate Mass and his homily spoke of the message of Our Lady of Fatima. How her appearance and her story and her message reminds us that as old fashioned as the modern world thinks the spiritual life to be, that truth shows it has meaning and influence on the temporal world. It matters. Prayer matters. It is real. We can not underestimate it. It was a huge grace. My favorite feast day. The day I began the consecration. She answered a pray for me that I have had in the depths of my heart so often lately... which is a deep desire to be alone with The Lord just for a moment in the silence, and most especially in the Mass. Thank you, Mary. 

Receptivity

I feel as if I could speak of this beauty until I am blue in the face. But on the other hand, I have accepted with my whole heart that it's OK if I do... because God has given me and my husband a special grace to understand His hope and desire for married love... not in its perfection or completeness, but in its joys and simplicity. And one that we will continue to learn as we grow old together on this adventure.

Adam was army crawling across the floor downstairs tonight and I looked over the balcony, called his name and said, "Hi, buddy!" His little eyes darted all around looking for his Mommy. He finally found me, looked up, gave the absolute sweetest little smile and then put his little hand in the air in a fist, which to him meant he waved. Patrick smiled up at me and instantly responded with, "We made him. He is amazing." My eyes started to water. How is it that Patrick gets it like I do? How is it that he gets it?

When he said that to me, it meant much more than "our kids are awesome." It meant, we have a gift in our marriage to create eternal souls... and we will never take it for granted, sterilize it, or destroy it. What we had discussed two weeks earlier in our Mom's Book Club came back to me. As mothers we are called to be receptive... we are to always say, "Yes, Lord" whether it be "Yes, I accept a child" or "Yes, I accept that now is not the best time to have a child" or "Yes, even though you have given us a child, you may take them away." In those moments of speaking with my friends we spoke about how it is not only us moms who are called to receptivity, but our amazing husbands have also taken on this vocation, and it is a beautiful experience as a woman to have a man stand beside you in this receptivity. God's plan for married love. It can not be separated from marriage and I am sure that this is why so many marriages are ending. Life does not continue to connect them.

Today I overhead some ladies speaking. I heard at least two of them state that if they knew for sure they would receive another child of a certain gender, then they would have another baby, but since they could not be certain, they probably would not attempt in case they failed. I had to do a double take. It was as if I was hearing them say, "Oh, I already have a red pair of shoes, so if you are giving me another pair of red ones, I don't want them, even if they are a free gift. BUT, on the other hand, if they are blue, then for sure, hand 'em over now." Children are not accessories. You don't have them to get one of each, you have them to teach them the love of Christ, so more people will then know the love of Christ! I did hold my tongue, but my heart hurt.

I get frustrated. I have to watch out for my judgements of others. I have to make sure I place an understanding there. Lord, allow me to be understanding. I have to remain being thankful for this grace in my marriage... the grace to "get" God's plan for married love, which is receptivity and joy, a joy that carries a heavy cross, but still, a great joy in being open to the gift of life.

All this being said, I am not pregnant. Not today. But, maybe tomorrow. ;)

It's Springtime around here, peeps

For the past two weeks Patrick has been bringing the boys out front to watch a nest, which is situated in a very cozy bush next to our front door. For a while there were 4 beautiful blue and brown eggs. See picture below. We noticed on rainy days the mommy bird would be sitting tall in the nest, protecting her eggs and when the sun was shining, she would wait on the roof of the house next door, keeping close watch. Days went by and to our sadness we did not get to witness the babies hatching out of their eggs, but we sure got a glimpse of them soon after. They were little fur balls, with beaks so small and little eyes that were closed. It was a miracle. I quickly resonated with that joy of waiting so long and then having a child born.

As the days have passed, the little birds have grown so fast. Their eyes have started to open more, their little wings are taking shape and you can even start to hear little cheeps. Each time we go outside, if the mommy bird is not on the roof watching, she is with them. And most of the time if she is on the roof, she is successfully holding some sort of yummy worms, which I suppose is lunch or supper... and as soon as we pull out of the driveway, she swoops down to feed them. I have also many times seen her swoop down to head butt another bird heading in the direction of the babies. It was courageous... and so... maternal!

The boys love when sometimes the babies mistake us for their mommy; we move leaves out of the way to see them and they stick their little heads up and open their beaks real wide. It has been one of those dream science projects that every mom wishes she could create in her back yard. God has sent us the miracle all on His own. It has been a great way to teach our kids about the beauty of life. And a great reminder to me as to how to be a mom... first you feed 'em, then you train 'em, and then you have to let them go... and fly on their own. I already feel sad that one day the little birds will be gone, but I feel proud about it too. There is such a beauty in this life.