when there's so little space you can hardly breathe

I’ve been thinking today about an old fable I heard many years ago. It begins like this:

A poor man lived with his wife and six children in a very small one-room house. They were always getting in each other's way and there was so little space they could hardly breathe!

Finally the man could stand it no more. He talked to his wife and asked her what to do. "Go see the rabbi," she told him, and after arguing a while, he went.

And so the poor man told the rabbi how miserable things were at home with him, his wife, and the six children all eating and living and sleeping in one room. The poor man told the rabbi, "We're even starting to yell and fight with each other. Life couldn't be worse."

The rabbi thought very deeply about the poor man's problem. Then he said, "Do exactly as I tell you and things will get better. Do you promise?"

"I promise," the poor man said.

The rabbi then asked the poor man a strange question. "Do you own any animals?"

"Yes," he said. "I have one cow, one goat, and some chickens."

"Good," the rabbi said. "When you get home, take all the animals into your house to live with you."

The poor man was astonished to hear this advice from the rabbi, but he had promised to do exactly what the rabbi said. So he went home and took all the farm animals into the tiny one-room house. 

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It’s been a demanding, crazy, awe-inspiring, exhausting, joy-filled, draining, blessed summer. Yes, I am aware that it’s mid-October, but I just now feel like I’m shifting seasons!

Like the farmer in the tale, I felt like more and more “animals” kept coming into my “home,” which already felt very full.

But before you begin feeling sorry for me, let me emphasize that the vast majority of these new “animals” are unequivocal blessings: new jobs, new grandbabies, family gatherings, book signings and presentations…

Somewhere in there, however, my body started hurting—and the pain I felt demanded that I pay attention to my body and its needs.

All of a sudden I felt forced to add even more “animals” to my “home” chaos. Doctor visits, medical tests, acupuncture, physical therapy… I’ve been ready to try anything that could possibly help.

It was only last week that I finally acknowledged the one piece I’ve been missing—my attitude, my perspective.

It was thanks to something the physical therapist said, or rather, what I was able to hear. I’ve been walking around the summer months acting like there’s something for me to fix.

Yet the reality is not that anything new has “happened” to my neck. I have advanced degenerative disc disease. It is part of my condition, and it is not going to get fixed. It will never be well.

So what my body is demanding is actually rather simple. I need to slow down. Rest. Take time to meditate. Pray. Listen to what my body needs… not in a big picture of life, as much as on a day-to-day basis.

The challenge is to notice, and not wait until the pain is screaming at me to pay attention!

A visible sign that I haven’t been doing this very well is this blog. I can’t believe it, but, Day by day with María has turned into (almost) Month by month with María!

Writing for me is a spiritual endeavor. And paraphrasing what Flannery O’Connor once said, one of the blessings of this blog is that it helps me know what I’m thinking… and what I’m feeling… and most importantly, pay attention to what God is saying to me in the specifics of my life, on this day, at this moment.

The shift in my attitude is as basic as moving from me-centered to God-centered.

It’s the difference between reading God/is/nowhere and God/is/now/here.

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oh, and ps. As you may have guessed, there’s more to the poor man’s fable! Here you go:

The next day the poor man ran back to see the rabbi. "What have you done to me, Rabbi?" he cried. "It's awful. I did what you told me and the animals are all over the house! Rabbi, help me!" 

The rabbi listened and said calmly, "Now go home and take the chickens back outside." 

The poor man did as the rabbi said, but hurried back again the next day. "The chickens are gone, but Rabbi, the goat!" he moaned. "The goat is smashing up all the furniture and eating everything in sight!"

The good rabbi said, "Go home and remove the goat and may God bless you." 

So the poor man went home and took the goat outside. But he ran back again to see the rabbi, crying and wailing. "What a nightmare you have brought to my house, Rabbi! With the cow it's like living in a stable! Can human beings live with an animal like this?" 

The rabbi said sweetly, "My friend, you are right. May God bless you. Go home now and take the cow out of your house." And the poor man went quickly home and took the cow out of the house. 

The next day he came running back to the rabbi again. "O Rabbi," he said with a big smile on his face, "we have such a good life now. The animals are all out of the house. The house is so quiet and we've got room to spare! What a joy!" 

change #2, #SmallMerciesMiércoles: I'm grateful for feet, even when hopping on one leg

view from my office today!

People with arthritis often claim they can predict the weather, based on their joint pain level, and with good reason. Studies show a variety of weather factors can increase pain, especially changes… in barometric pressure (especially falling) and in temperature (especially lowering). 

A study from Tufts University in 2007 found that every 10-degree drop in temperature corresponded with an incremental increase in arthritis pain. In addition, relatively low barometric pressure, low temperatures and precipitation can increase pain. Researchers aren’t sure why this happens. They suspect certain atmospheric conditions increase swelling in the joint capsule.

~Arthritis Today magazine

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"'Man is a creature composed of body and soul.' We have recited that truth from the day we first learned our catechism. But until the body fails us, or pains us, or forces itself upon our attention by some little twinge or complete collapse, we tend to take for granted this first and most precious of God's gifts to man or to give it short shrift."  

"What came to me in the prison camps was a tremendous respect and love for the poor old body. It was the body that bore the brunt of all suffering, though the soul might well experience anguish. And it was the body that had to sustain you, for all the strength of will and determination it might have. It was the body that felt the sting of the wind, the bite of the cold, the cramp of aching muscles, the raw lash of cracked and bleeding flesh, the gnawing agony of hunger in the belly, the soreness and numbness of overtaxed sinews... and yet somehow it always managed to get you through one more day. It was the body that underwent the suffering, felt the agony, and carried the heavy weight across its shoulders of this daily passion and slow death of inhuman work."  

"It is in the body that we exist and work out our salvation. It is in the body that we see and take delight in the beauties of God's created universe, and in the body that we ourselves bear the marks of Christ's passion."

"God by his Incarnation took on a human body."  

"For each of us salvation means no more and no less than taking up daily the same cross of Christ, accepting each day what it brings as the will of God, offering back to God each morning all the joys, works, and sufferings of that day. But those are abstract words."  

"What it means, in practice, is spelled out as always by the poor old body. It means getting up each morning and going to bed exhausted. It means the routine, not the spectacular. It can mean drudgery, pain, putting aside pleasures, happiness, or the love the human heart craves until another time, so that what is necessary at the moment can be done. It means working for others, touching the lives of others, through the medium of the body."

~Walter Ciszek, S.J., 

excerpts from “the Body” chapter 

in He Leadeth Me.

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I am hopping on one leg today, literally. I’m not sure what’s causing it, exactly, but I’m having pain and swelling issues with my left foot. 

I don't even have a weird, fun story to go with it! There’s nothing broken, so it seems to be related to the inflammation problems related to my condition.

Which, believe it or not, leads me to the next “adjustment” that I’m proposing to myself!

Yesterday I wrote about keeping holy the Sabbath day, and my commitment to un-plug from technology on Sundays. In addition, I have decided to also work at being more regular with my writing time, including the frequency of the blog—and yes, within my physical abilities!

I’ve written before about the importance of  thankfulness and gratefulness, and how this attitude affects my life. And I’ve participated, however briefly (so far!), in CatholicMom.com’s #SmallSuccess Thursday Project.

So it seems like a natural sequel to developing my writing routine if I include weekly posts on what I’m grateful for, with specifics.  More on the details of this idea over the next few weeks, but for today… here’s what I’m calling #SmallMerciesMiércoles, which I will publish (¡con la ayuda de Dios!) every Wednesday.

#1   I’m grateful that I did not break any bones in the foot of my “poor old body”

#2   I’m grateful for the opportunity this situation gives me to stay home, put up my feet (ha!), and write!

#3   I am also grateful for my body’s reminder that God is here, incarnate, in every minute detail of my life and myself!

Ps. For those of you who’ve reached the age where your body helps you predict the weather – here are two helpful online sources to help you verify what you’re already feeling:

Over at ArthritisToday.org, an Arthritis Index based on a proprietary forecast by the meteorologists at www.AccuWeather.com. Click here! 

and over at weather.com, you can type in your zip code and get your “local aches & pains forecast”

or even peek at the “National aches & pains map”

The “aches & pains” forecast looks great for me today!  

What about your neck of the woods?

signs and symbols

On April 1, 1981, Michael and I announced to all our friends that we were engaged.

A very very young Michael and Maria, 

standing in front of the University of Texas Catholic Center, where we met 

We thought we were SO funny—not to mention clever—choosing April Fools' day to make the official announcement. As if our friends couldn’t already recognize the signs revealing where our relationship was headed!

I’ve been thinking a lot about signs, symbols, and the powerful ways that they genuinely reflect our inner lives, my inner life—and what’s important to me, while simultaneously becoming a metaphor for the big picture of (read everlasting) life.

It was a beautiful, intense and eventful Holy Week and Triduum, packed to the brim with symbolism.

And I hope you will forgive me, but even though we’re beginning the Easter season, it’s going to take me a while to process and digest the powerful liturgies of these past few days, particularly the Easter Vigil and all its signs and symbols.

following the yellow arrow, Camino de Santiago

Speaking of symbols--and before I forget, as promised, here’s what I wrote for the New York Times section “Room for Debate” on the topic, “What is the purpose of Lent,” which was published on Good Friday.  

By the way, the actual question proposed to me was, “is there a point to giving things up for Lent?” My response:

Ten years after my friend Pat and I walked 350 miles of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage, we laugh about the vigorous women we were then. Pat is battling life-threatening brain cancer, and I’m learning to function with a diminishing chronic autoimmune condition.

It would be too simple to say our physical circumstances are a metaphor for the struggles and challenges of the Camino. In so many ways, the Camino is a metaphor for our whole lives: I can’t anticipate what struggles today will bring, but anything is doable one step at a time. Every uphill has a downhill. Hardship becomes manageable with a friend. Every single thing that I carry weighs me down, so I must choose wisely. 

In our culture, pain, suffering, worries, difficulties and grieving are all things to conquer — and to anesthetize as quickly as possible. Each of us is an addict looking for a quick fix. Drugs. Food. Exercise. Sex. Shopping. Disposable relationships. Whatever it takes to not feel bad, sad, hurt. 

Thus the question for me is not whether there’s a point to giving things up during Lent, but whether I should ever stop fasting from all that numbs, dulls and deadens me to life, all of life, as it is today — the good and the bad. Fasting makes me willing to try. 

For Christians, Good Friday stands alone in holiness and singularity. The day defines who and what we believe — and what makes us different. Christianity scandalously proposes a God who becomes human out of love for humanity. The scandal deepens when this God-made-man willingly accepts suffering and death out of complete trust. 

The Passion of Christ is not ultimately about how Christ suffered; it’s not a documentary on the History Channel. The Passion is about Jesus’ response. 

In the midst of intense pain, in spite of undeserved persecution and profound discrimination, Jesus keeps his eyes on God, commending his heart and entire being to the one he trusted completely and without reservation. Each Lent, I fast to remember.

Go here to read all of the entries.

I’m trying very hard to follow my friends’ sage advice to not read the comments published online! That being said, I want to thank you in advance for considering taking the time to write a comment at the NYTimes site demonstrating to the editor that you read my writing!