Cheeseburgers and Promoting a Culture of Life

So now that everyone knows I’m pregnant, you may as well know some of the foods I’ve been craving the past few months (I hope you’re not hungry right now). The longest standing one is cheeseburgers. I can’t tell you how many cheeseburgers I’ve eaten since June, but it’s been quite a few, more than quite a few truthfully. Specifically from one or two fast food restaurants, but pretty much any cheeseburger will do. I’ve also gone through an asiago cheese bagel phase, a tomato-basil-mozzarella phase and presently consider a bowl of ice cream an acceptable way to deal with heartburn (it’s cold, creamy and delicious, perfect remedy in my opinion).

Cheeseburgers and a Culture of Life from Daily Graces at kktaliaferro.wordpress.com
CCO Public Domain

On a recent trip to the grocery store I was predictably hungry, it was 1:30 in the afternoon and lunch was so long ago (wink). As I looked at what was around me, a common fast food restaurant was only a few blocks away. I try not to give in all the time, but part of being pregnant is giving in every so often. So I drove up the street and promptly ordered 2 cheeseburgers, a small fri and small drink. Total = $4.37.

Now here is something interesting. Like most places, this particular restaurant has value meal options. For this one, their value meals come automatically with an order of medium french fries and a medium drink. That is usually fine with me, though admittedly it is a bit too much food for me in one sitting. I could have chosen the value meal that came with 2 cheeseburgers, a medium fri and medium drink, but I knew it would be too much. Plus it was technically “second lunch” so I didn’t truly need another somewhat overly full meal. What would my total have been if I had ordered the value meal? $4.20.

17¢ difference isn’t a lot of money. It’s not an amount I would get upset over or think a whole lot about. Except in this case where I actually spent more money and got less food. I’m not upset about the less food part, though it is rather ridiculous. What frustrates me is the lesson it teaches. Eat more for less, even if more is too much.

We are bombarded in our society by the quest for more. More pillows will make your living room more inviting. A new phone will allow you to do more with your time. Losing 10 more pounds (even if you are at a healthy weight) will make you more desirable. It seems that the whole point of marketing is to convince you that whatever you have is less than adequate and until you do more/get more you can’t possibly be a happy person.

For all our society talks about portion control and moderation when it comes to food, it was surprising to see that I paid more for less. But then again, if the underlying principle of our society involves the blind acquisition of more things, I suppose I shouldn’t be all that surprised. It’s as if we can no longer fathom that anyone would want less. I think I’ve posted it before, but this commercial still gets under my skin. More more more! Mine mine mine! It’s not hard to see why these mentalities cultivate a society that encourages what Pope John Paul II called “a culture of death,” a culture that devalues life, that upholds violence and narcissism, and justifies immorality through relativism.

I don’t mean to get all dark and gloomy, after all this train of thought started with a mere 17¢ and a couple of cheeseburgers. But as a mother it is my duty to raise my children to be moral, active participants in our world. I want them to be thinking, feeling, compassionate and merciful contributors to society, living the lives that God calls them to. In order to fulfill this task, both Ben and I need to be aware of what seeds we are planting in their lives. Are we allowing them to desire more, or to be content with what they have been given? Do they get to scream and shout “Mine!” and grab things from their siblings or other children, or are they courteous, asking for a turn and sharing with one another? (Some days are better than others, we are dealing with seedlings after all).

And what are they seeing in our behavior? Are we constantly grasping for the latest cell phone or technology? When we sit down at dinner are we engaging with them or our tablets? Are we at the store purchasing new clothing on a regular basis or are we thrifty with our money, maintaining our appearance without obsessing over it? Do we complain about what we don’t have or do we share with them how thankful we are for what we do have? And maybe most significantly, are we generous with what we have been given, or do we keep it for ourselves, shouting with our selfishness and greedy actions the same “Mine!” that our children are not allowed to say?

We aren’t perfect that’s for sure. But we are trying to be aware about cultivating a culture of life in our home. It is good for our kids that we intentionally try not to have multiples of many toys. It makes some days harder, but they are learning lessons about sharing and working together rather than sitting side-by-side, disengaged from one another. Every night before bed we share with the family and with God the things we are thankful for and the people we would like God to bless. We encourage politeness, courtesy and respect for all the members of our family. Each member is important, valued and respected regardless of how old they are. In all these small ways we are growing in love and holiness and promoting a culture of life.

Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com

 

Proper Language

In the past few months I’ve been trying to make an effort to be more present on Twitter and Instagram. It’s been fun, challenging and sometimes tiring, but I think it’s been worth the effort. I’ve found some pretty incredible articles and resources that I would have missed or not known about had I not been using these social media tools.

As with all things, I have also stumbled across some things I wish I hadn’t, or read statements I do not agree with. Once such instance happened this past weekend that got me so riled up, I’m still thinking about it and maybe, if this post goes well, try to formulate my thoughts into an article that I could submit to a publication (hopes and dreams anyway).

I was scrolling through Twitter when I came across this tweet from a pro-life activist:

Lots of would be mothers regret their abortions.I dont know a single mom who regrets having a child
Proper Language, especially in pro-life ministry. Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com
Photo by tipstimes.com/pregnancy. 2008. via Flickr. CC. Modified by Kate Taliaferro 2016

Now, there are a few things that I take issue with in this statement, and I am pro-life. Regarding the 2nd sentence, I am sure that there are mothers out there, unfortunately, who go through periods of time that they regret having children. Maybe they regret a loss of independence or ability to work, maybe they are struggling to feed all the members of their family, maybe they regret the circumstances that lead to that child. While each child is a precious gift from God, we are a broken humanity who do not always recognize God’s gifts when we receive them.

But this is not my main issue. My main issue is the term “would be mothers.” Friends, if we ever, and I mean EVER, hope to bring about a cultural revolution for the culture of life, we have to first remove the log from our own eye before looking to anyone else’s. Consider the term “would be mother.” According to Merriam-Webster, “would-be” is defined as
used to describe someone who hopes to be a particular person or type of person
or
having the potential to be
So, based on this tweet and it’s language, a would be mother is someone who has the potential to be a mother, but isn’t. And you might say, of course. In this context, we are talking about a woman who had an abortion, so she isn’t a mother.
Or is she?
Here’s the kicker folks, by calling these women “would-be mothers” we are denying the fact that they ever were mothers. We are denying the fact that the life in her womb began at conception. Fr. Frank Pavone says it best:

A woman who is pregnant is not “expecting” a child. She already has one. The child exists and is living and growing in her womb. She is not about to bring the child “into the world.” The child is already in the world. The mother’s womb is as much in the world as the mother herself.

The pregnant woman is not “going to be” a mother. She already is a mother. By saying she is “going to be” a mother, we inadvertently reinforce the notion that motherhood begins at birth. This reinforces the idea that the child really is a child only at birth.

Theotokos. Using Proper Language to describe mothers. Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com
By MapperDB (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons
So, what we say about the mother directly impacts what we know and believe about her child. The Church has understood this for centuries. The early Church held Mary in high esteem as the Mother of God, the Theotokos. Prior to the Council of Ephesus, 431, this term had been widely used for Mary. However, it wasn’t until the council that she was officially declared the Theotokos, the God-bearer. While this may seem like the emphasis is all on Mary, it is actually another way that the Church was protecting and promoting the belief in who Jesus is, in particular that he is both fully divine and fully human (the Incarnation).

Heresies and questionable teachings abounded in the early centuries of the Church. It was up to the councils to discern the Truth through the guidance of the Holy Spirit. One of the most hotly contested topics, obviously, revolved around Jesus. Was he truly God but only pretending to be human? Was he a super awesome human, maybe even divine-like, but not truly God? Was he a split, 50% God, 50% man, or some other ratio? Who was Jesus???

At the Council of Ephesus, a man named Nestorius began spreading doubt that Mary was truly Theotokos. He claimed she was the mother of Christ, the mother of the human Jesus, but not the mother of God. After all, how could God have a mother? Do you see how quickly things could have unraveled? If the Church had accepted Nestorius’ teaching, they would have been denying the totality of who Jesus was. For Jesus to be both fully human and fully divine, there is no way Mary could give birth to only part of Jesus. It’s all or nothing. If you want to read more, EWTN has a great summary here.

What we say about the mother directly impacts what we say about her child. Before we can ask others to see these precious little ones as fully, completely, in the here and now, children, we have to adjust the way we speak about their mothers.

Do you want to get involved in the pro-life movement? You can contact your parish or local diocese about events, the March for Life, peaceful protests and prayer vigils. You can also volunteer at a local pregnancy crisis center or see if they accept donations. If you are a rosary prayer, you can also add this simple prayer at the end of each decade following the O My Jesus prayer: “Jesus, protect and save the unborn.” Most importantly, you can pray for all those mothers and families who are faced with difficult situations and feel they have no other alternatives.

Melting a Heart of Stone

Melting a Heart of Stone - Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com
By Sylda31 (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons
This day did not start out like a normal day. It actually started out as a rather terrible day. It was the day that Ben was coming home from a trip, which usually means it’s a day that is both exciting and awful all at once. Exciting because, obviously, Daddy’s finally coming home and the kids are bonkers, elated and otherwise screaming with joy. It is awful because time moves at its slowest speed and since we are all so excited our faces hurt from smiling, sometimes patience wears thin and tempers flare as we march through the day until he finally gets home.

Today was just such a day, except today started with one of my children, I won’t implicate them here, informing my still closed eyelids that there was potty on the couch while still dripping with it on the carpet in front of my bed. I flew out of bed to find indeed a soaking wet child as well as a drenched couch. Not only is Daddy coming home, now he is coming home to a pee-soaked former-favorite spot to sit.

Needless to say, I was not amused. I think my patience was forgotten in bed, probably still with my sleepy eyes and my temper was shorter than the coffee I had not yet drunk. With each paper towel, every squirt of any deodorizer I could get my hands on, and towel soiled, my heart hardened. The whole house smelled, breakfast still had to be made, children clothed and we had someplace to be by 10am. Oh, and I needed coffee. Badly.

Children truly are incredible in their ability to move on. The offending party was appropriately contrite, said all the right words and gave lots of hugs. They steered clear for a few minutes, recognizing that Mom was in rather a state. But only for a few minutes. Then, they were back to their happy-go-lucky selves, asking for extra juice and asking me to find a missing toy for them as if I wasn’t up to my elbows in pee and all manner of cleaners, almost desperate enough for a clothespin on my nose. Rather than being inspired by their uplifting attitude, it only fueled my stony heart.

I was turning into one of the disciples in the Gospel of Mark. They had just witnessed Jesus multiplying the loaves and the fish and now were looking across the sea to find Jesus walking to them in the midst of a storm. Mark says they were “astounded.” But at the same time, their hearts were hardened because they did not understand what Jesus was trying to tell them.

Jesus was trying to soften my heart through the cheerful attitudes of my children. Instead, I gave him the cold shoulder.

My mood, predictably, did not improve on its own. I needed some serious help. And thank goodness, I got it. We were driving to our morning event when Rosie asked to listen to the Vacation Bible School music that the kids had just finished that week. If it kept the car quiet and peaceful I was all for it so I turned it on, fading it to the back of course so that such uplifting, happy music wouldn’t influence my sour disposition (because who would want that? Clearly, I was stuck).

Then, very faintly, I heard the singing. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw John singing along to the song playing. Rosie quickly joined him. The next song they added some hand motions and even Clare tried to keep up, clapping and giggling. Slowly, my stony heart was melting. These beautiful, simple children, were praising God to the greatest of their abilities. They were filling the car with joy and adoration. Who was I to stand in the face of that worship, fold my arms and turn up my nose? Who was I to hold onto a grudge that I had to serve my family that morning, even if it was at a time not of my choosing or a task I was particularly fond of? I had been given an opportunity to serve my family with love, patience and and joy. I utterly failed on all counts.

The sweet joyful singing of my children brought me back to reality, sufficiently humbled and sorrowful for the example I had given them. Instead of seeing an opportunity to demonstrate love, I displayed petty anger, frustration and a general yucky attitude. And so I joined in their song, letting all those negative emotions ebb away as I allowed myself to be graced by their song. In those few moments my heart of stone was being melted away and replaced with a softened one capable of seeing God working in our day once again.

I’m not going to say the rest of the day was perfect, because of course it wasn’t. But it was better, so much better than if I had hung onto that stony heart rather than embracing a humbled, soft one.

Melting a Heart of Stone - Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com
The 3 causes for my joy!