The Idol of Comfort

I read this post by Jen @ Conversion Diary the other day, and it made me wonder what my antagonist is: what do I desire more than I desire God. I took it to prayer and the answer which sprang immediately to mind was, "comfort." At first I thought, "okaaaay." Then I thought about the way I seem to focus so much on maintaining my peace, my status quo, my self image, my residence firmly in my comfort zone. I thought about times when I though I felt the nudge of the Holy Spirit and then wriggled out of following the prompting because, "I must be imagining that. That's not me. I couldn't do that." I finally had to admit, "yeah, sounds about right."

Recently I stopped wearing my veils or coverings at Mass. I did it partially to mark the joy of the Easter season, and partially (probably mostly, if we're honest) because I was tired of being the weirdo. I have used this time to think about whether or not I will take it up again come Ordinary Time, and lo, Pentecost is nigh!

Last Friday I went to a Catholic Girl's Night Out event in San Antonio arranged by the Alexander House. The first hour of the event was a nearly all-women Mass (much to the surprise of the officiating priest). During the sign of peace I turned around to find that the young woman behind me was wearing a veil. Kneeling a moment later I prayed, "if you want me to wear the veil again, let me know, Lord." The rest of the Mass went on as usual and was lovely. In the gap between Mass and the guest speaker, we prayed a collective rosary. I kept thinking about the veiled woman, wanting to ask her about her experience with it.

As the rosary was begun I shifted in my seat and looked left and right. Everyone was kneeling, everyone was praying. I didn't feel like praying the rosary, but in the interest of blending in and the mere fact that I was re-consecrating myself to Jesus through Mary the next day, I went ahead and knelt myself though I did not have any beads on me. I reached to my throat and tightly grasped my miraculous medal.

Moments later I felt a nudge on my back. I turned and found the veiled woman offering me her extra rosary. I prayed on her beads the rest of the time and when I tried to hand them back to her afterward, she said, simply, "keep it."

Looks like I'll be veiling again soon! And also re-reading this blog post by another San Antonio woman for additional inspiration. Also, this!

Funny enough, I purchased some scarves here a couple of weeks ago using a coupon code for 3 free scarves, and when they came in I immediately thought that they would make good church scarves. Seems like I'll be testing them out sooner than I anticipated.

Veil of Trust

I thought I had nothing more to say on this topic, but this is the third time I re-started this post after not being satisfied with it. Finally I stopped and said a little prayer for inspiration, and now I want to approach the veil from this angle which is slightly different than I have approached it before. You can probably tell from my side bar that I have a devotion to Divine Mercy. Right this moment it's the hour of mercy and the Divine Mercy chaplet is being sung on my radio. The veil for me has become a symbol of my trust in Divine Mercy. I started this veiling journey with the attitude that the veil would be my own personal devotion to Jesus and it would not matter one whit whether anyone noticed that I was covering my head or not. I was going to use covers that were completely inconspicuous. Nobody would know. I would strive for invisibility just like I usually do everywhere I go. It would be nearly status quo.

Yesterday, wonder of wonders, I found myself wishing that someone would ask me about my very obvious, very lacy black veil so that I could proclaim Jesus's Mercy! I wanted to shake someone and say, "can't you see?! I was married. Right there. I was married right there at the same altar you see before you when I was a non-Christian. I was hoping that Jesus would not be mentioned by our Protestant minister at my wedding. In front of the tabernacle in the Catholic Church with the red candle lit and Jesus standing right behind me. Do you know what you have? Look what He's done for me!" I'm not sure I would ever be brave enough or articulate enough to say that, but my heart wants to proclaim his Mercy from the roof tops. I actually had a dream about my grave need to acquire a stack of Divine Mercy holy cards to keep on my person and hand out to strangers. It was odd, I'll grant you...but still. I have come to view the veil as a symbol for others as well as myself of Jesus's real presence in the Eucharist.

The visibility of the veil has become important enough to me that I actually told my husband about Veil Project! He said, "huh. So that's why my Grandma always wore a veil to church stuff." It made me laugh that he would notice such a thing. (Side note: Ollie's Grandma got to see JPII when he came to San Antonio in the 1980s. I would have liked to have met her!)

I have also started praying, "Jesus, I trust in You" (the prayer on the bottom of the Divine Mercy image) before receiving communion. This is something I haven't done before, but something which helps me focus on Jesus right at the crucial time before I receive Him into my body.

All that I wrote probably sounds like sickly sweet, overly pious nonsense. Maybe it is. Either way, I hear the baby awake in the other room which means my time to write is done.

This photo is actually from Gaudete Sunday, but I looked pretty much the same yesterday except that I was more sweaty from doing some professional baby wrangling which included a trip from my pew near the front all the way out the back door to my car and back into the church straight into the communion line. Lillian really tired me out, but I am grateful to have been at Mass anyway!

Have a Merry Christmas!

Back to Catholic Librarian for more veiling tales!

A Veiled Offering

Veiling Reflection

Last week I had this moment of clarity in which I looked at my life from the outside. It's really hard to explain exactly what I mean, but I'll give it a try. It was a little bit of a step back. I could see myself and imagine a life without religion. Chucking everything. Just surrender the simmering contraception argument. Stop going to Mass. Throw everything away and live for my own pleasure, seeking after the goods of the world. What scared me most about this thought was just how easy it would be to do such a thing; how much easier my life would be if I would just revert to the secular version of me. I could see and totally understand how someone who had once been faithful to the Church could throw in the towel and stop fighting against sinful desires, throw away the notion of sin altogether. I was tempted to do it myself for a moment before the memory of Jesus, grace, Eucharist, answered prayers, my sisters the saints, and Mary. This Scripture bubbled to the surface of my mind after I reluctantly rejected that temptation:

"Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God" John 6:68-69

To whom would I go? Back to myself? That foundation is too shaky. I had this little exchange in my mind Thursday and was still mulling it over on Friday when I felt very lonely and sorrowful indeed.

Saturday I prayed the Joyful Mysteries of the rosary and was struck this time by the Presentation. What I love about the rosary is that different aspects of the mysteries jump out at me exactly when I need them. I was thinking about the way Mary re-affirms her dedication to doing the will of God even though she must know the sadness that she will have to endure and the brutal treatment that her son will receive. She knows the difficult road ahead, but she moves forward in faith to present her child as an offering to God. She is warned, "and a sword will pierce through your own soul also" (Luke 2:35) but she continues forward in a courageous example of faith and steadfastness. After the rosary I continued my novena to Our Lady of Guadalupe and found this prayer, just what I needed:

O Mary, whose Immaculate Heart was pierced by seven swords of grief, help me to walk valiantly amid the sharp thorns strewn across my pathway. Obtain for me the strength to be a true imitator of you. This I ask you, my dear Mother. 

I was wearing my new veil as I prayed the rosary and it reminded me that one meaning of the veil has been a physical affirmation that I'm putting my life in God's hands. My prayer for the Lord's will to be done cannot be conditional based on whether or not it produces hardship in my life. I must remain faithful throughout just as Mary was faithful throughout, finding peace not (only) in the pleasures of life but in the knowledge that I have been a good servant. This isn't to say that finding joy and happiness is wrong, but that seeking those things cannot be my primary motivation. I don't write this because it's anything new, but I write it because it's something that I seem to forget from time to time.

Journal

Shameless obvious selfie.

With these things in mind, I donned a very obvious veil Sunday morning, fighting the very strong urge to take it off and blend in. As I walked toward the church I just kept repeating in my mind, "I'm doing this for you, Jesus. For you. I'm doing this for you, Jesus..." I wore it as a deliberate re-dedication of my life to Christ. I meant it as an offering to Him. A deliberate attempt to show Him reverence. I wore the veil around my neck as I walked into the church and pulled it up around my head once I sat down. At that time I was just relieved; my little nagging fears drifted away. Melodramatic, I know. I'm a big chicken.

I enjoyed wearing it at Mass though, once I got over the suspicion that people were looking at me. I don't know if anyone was or not, but no one asked me about it. A practical concern was that it kept wanting to slide backward off my head. I'll probably sew in a comb or at least invest in some black bobby pins. Despite the slippage, it really didn't seem to be a distraction to me in Mass (as long as you don't ask about the moment during the Our Father when Lillian took the opportunity to pull on it when my hands were otherwise occupied!). It really helped me re-focus my attention at crucial moments because I kept seeing glimpses of it hanging down around me. I thought I would save this veil for Christmas Eve, but I'm glad I wore it sooner. I felt peaceful and joyful at Mass, and I did make an effort to be friendlier to people!

After Mass I was driving home listening to Advent at Ephesus and was struck by "Maria Walks Amid the Thorn". I needed to pay more attention to that song, for sure.

I'm hoping to get another veil at some point perhaps in a shade of brown, or blue. I'm entering the Veils By Lily veil giveaway. You should, too!

In Spirit and in Truth

Veiling Reflection 

"The worship 'in Spirit and in truth' of the New Covenant is not tied exclusively to any one place. The whole earth is sacred and entrusted to the children of men. What matters above all is that, when the faithful assemble in the same place, they are the 'living stones,' gathered to be 'built into a spiritual house.' For the Body of the risen Christ is the spiritual temple from which the source of living water springs forth: incorporated into Christ by the Holy Spirit, 'we are the temple of the living God.'" - Catechism of the Catholic Church 1179

When I decided to wear a veil during Advent, I didn't think it would matter which type of covering that I chose as long as I obeyed the prompting of the Holy Spirit and covered my head. I started with berets, tams and wide headbands. I discovered that those items did not make me feel much more reverent at Mass than I had been before. Last week at Mass I wore a cover that was more obviously a cover. I wore the same scarf that I had before, but tied it in a way that I would not usually choose to wear it. Consequently, I felt much more reverent and focused at Mass. I thought that was odd and that I couldn't put my finger on why that was, but it did finally dawn on me what the difference was.

The difference in the way I wore my cover spoke more symbolically to my heart than the other ways. When I wore something that I would wear any time in my daily attire, it felt less symbolic to me of my reverence for Christ in the Eucharist. I needed to wear something special for Mass that took me out of my ordinary mode of dress. Something special in commemoration and reverence of the re-presentation of Christ's sacrifice on the cross. The symbol of the veil speaks loudly to my heart, and that is why I am called to wear it.

The faithful are '"living stones" gathered to be "built into a spiritual house"'. We must present ourselves in a way that honors God with our bodies. I have been guilty so many of times of being sloppy and careless in the way I dress for Mass. I speak my love for Christ with my lips, but communicate something different with my attire and careless attitude. The same goes for the postures and gestures at Mass. I am careful to say the right words but too many times I have made a small, lazy sign of the cross. I need not only reverence but integrity to be a living stone befitting of God's spiritual house. My body needs to speak along with my heart.

I discovered the above Catechism reference when I sought to discover the meaning of John 4:24:

God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth. - John 4:24

My father in law has become a universalist, abandoning physical church and embracing the idea that Christians need only pray to God in private. He uses this verse to justify this decision, bears it as a weapon to cut through my insistence that baptism or any other phyiscal action matters. When I was a Quaker I believed the same thing. I believed that no holy days mattered because all days were the same to God. I didn't approach meetings with special dress, because God as spirit didn't care about what people wore. We had no liturgy. No hymns. We sat together in a bare room in silence awaiting our personal encounter with God. I totally dismissed my physicality. As a Catholic I should be behaving totally different.

Human beings are a body and soul composite. As Catholics we believe that the body is not merely a house for the soul. They are a composite. What we do with our bodies has an effect on our soul. Physical things can point the way toward greater spiritual realities and as a physical being, I have to admit that I do sometimes need concrete things! We can see this when we look at the sacraments. The Catechism says "the sacraments are efficacious signs of grace, instituted by Christ and entrusted to the Church, by which divine life is dispensed to us. The visible rites by which the sacraments are celebrated signify and make present the graces proper to each sacrament. They bear fruit in those who receive them with the required dispositions." (CCC 1131). I'm not saying that veiling or dressing well for Mass is a sacrament or even necessary for all people regardless of circumstance, but the symbolism in these actions speaks deeply to my heart and has the power to change my disposition to toward the sacraments. Doing these things merely to look a certain way to other people would not have the same effect. The intention to glorify and properly worship God is key.

It is important be cognizant of this, especially during the time of Advent when we are reminded that Our Lord came in flesh and blood to redeem flesh and blood! Our Advent readings keep reminding us that He is concerned with our physical as well as spiritual wellbeing, and in these particular readings the two seem to be related. When I read Wednesday's readings this is the line that zapped me like lightening and then stood fixed in my mind for several days:

I do not want to send them away hungry, or they may collapse on the way. - Matthew 15:32

I was powerfully reminded of my gratitude for the Eucharist: a physical substance which appears to be bread but which really contains the body, blood, soul and divinity (!) of Jesus Christ, the second person of the Most Holy Trinity! When I read that line I felt as though Jesus was speaking to the peoples' spiritual welfare more than their physical, although he had already healed many and demonstrated his concern for their physical needs. Recall these words spoken during the preparation of the gifts at Mass:

"Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation, for through your goodness we have received the bread we offer you: fruit of the earth and work of human hands, it will become for us the bread of life"

The Eucharist begins as a lowly physical morsel but at the words of consecration its substance transcends the mere physical and becomes a composite of physical and spiritual wrapped up in one.

This Advent I am determined to do my best to live with integrity. I need to understand the reasons for the different postures and gestures at Mass, and do them deliberately. My actions should mirror my beliefs. For me a this time this also involves veiling and dressing up for Mass even though there are no real rules regarding either. They speak to my heart and help me recall to mind the spiritual truths for which I converted. The veil for me is another gesture, like any other I would do at Mass. It speaks as loudly as the statues, candles, genuflection, sign of the cross, holy water, medals and stained glass. It helps me become the reverent "living stone" that I am meant to be.

Totally didn't mean to look like St. Faustina...

Journal

This is what I wore yesterday to Mass. It was beautiful and comfortable for awhile, but I ended up having to adjust it a bunch of times during Mass and I found myself getting too warm. My Lillian also grabbed it at one point and ripped a bunch of hair out of it. Definitely not where I want my focus to be!

I ordered an eternity veil off Etsy and it came in the mail, but I think I will have to modify it a little bit before I wear it. To me it seems like too much fabric and it hangs down too low. Lilian sits on my hip at Mass every time I stand up, and I think that veil would get in the way and become a distraction as it is now. It's so beautiful, though. I'm afraid I'll be too conspicuous when I wear it. I'm shaking in my boots a little at the thought. Really! It may make its debut at midnight Mass on Christmas Eve when the baby won't be with me.

I sort of think I might be a snood lady. I really like this one, and if I had the money I would definitely buy it! Love the color and lace.

Today I *tried* to go to Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Little Flower in San Antonio. Let me tell you, the baby was fussy in the car so I should have known it was a bad idea. I had never been there before, but it's been on my list for a long time because St. Therese is my confirmation saint. I made it in just before the Penitential Act, shuffling in from the cold drizzle. I pulled out every mommy trick that I had to keep my little one quiet, but ultimately we had to leave before communion. I had tears in my eyes as I left. I felt ashamed and rejected and so alone. Reflecting on this in the car I ultimately had to take my own advice (God does not owe me an smooth Mass experience or communion, even!) and derive some good out of the situation. The good was that I got to see the inside of a gorgeous church, discovered the location for next time, passed by a discalced Carmelite monastery that I didn't know existed, spotted some nuns, and spied a few other ladies in veils. I also discovered another veiling option that worked surprisingly well!

This is a shawl (ravelry link) that I knit from lace-weight wool in 2010. The pic is from then, but the shawl is not so stretched out now (it needs to be re-blocked). This shawl actually stayed on my head really well because it is not made from a slippery material. The wool is a little bit grippy.

Anyway, I highly recommend that option for all you knitty ladies. Shawls really aren't as difficult as they look...I had a lot of problems with that particular pattern at the time, but it was all the pattern's fault. ;)

Visit Catholic Librarian for more veily goodness!

Veiling and Advent Plans

I've written a few posts about my reasons for veiling. What it really all comes down to is that the veil is a physical reminder to myself of the gratitude, reverence and humility that I owe to God. I have been covering for a few weeks now and have noticed that the light pressure of the covering keeps me more focused on Mass (though I do my fair share of baby wrangling as well!).

I don't think anyone at church has noticed the covering, but I haven't worn a really obvious covering before. I've worn this pink scarf and a similar black one a couple of times like a wide headband. I wore a beret on one occasion. This Sunday I wore my scarf covering my bangs so the covering might have been more obvious. Still, I don't think anyone batted an eye. Whew!

One aspect of headcovering that I haven't thought about before was that it may help me be more charitable and sisterly toward other women. Really, I don't talk to too many people when I go to Mass. I go alone and I always leave at the earliest opportunity because Mass pushes the boundaries of Lillan's nap schedule and she gets pretty darn cranky by the time Mass is over. This Sunday I stopped to admire a baby who was going to be baptized and even asked what her name was. That seems like the tiniest thing, but it's really a struggle for me to reach out to others. I usually seek to mind my own business at all costs. Baby steps, people.

It seems an odd thing to say, but I felt as though the humility of wearing the veil helped me focus on the other rather than myself. I haven't thought a great deal about this aspect of veiling, but it's definitely something to think about. Veiling definitely doesn't make me feel "holier than thou". Just the opposite, actually!

Now I want to think more about how I will make my Advent more holy. Last year was my first Advent as a Catholic. I don't know what I did then, but I would like to make Advent more special and deliberate this year. My husband doesn't want to see any Advent decorations popping up, so I want to respect his wishes on that. My default is to study, study, study. I would like to do something more physical than intellectual. I hope the veil will help me there. I also intend to do a daily rosary and Divine Mercy chaplet during the hour of Divine Mercy (from 3-4 PM). I won God's Bucket List by Teresa Tomeo (lucky me!) from catholicmom.com and hope it comes in soon. Seems perfect for Advent reading!

Well. Food for thought.

Back to Catholic Librarian for more veiling tales :)

Pre-Advent Veiling

Well, not exactly a veil. A covering. A slouch tam, to be exact. The benefit of the tam is that it's soft, comfortable and the baby can't rip it off my head. That's what I wore to Mass yesterday.

I thought of another reason why I feel called to cover, a nuance of the humility reason. Today I feel a little discouraged. My heart yearns to have a spouse who I can share every aspect of my life with, especially faith. Who loves and accepts me as I am now: a Catholic woman. My husband loves me in spite of my conversion. But he would never choose me this way.

I keep coming up against that same longing again and again. Maybe my need to feel accepted by him has become an idol in my life. Covering my head in humility at Mass reminds me that ultimately my life is not my own, I was bought at a price. Despite the struggle it entails, I have to surrender my plans and go with His. Ultimately it's an acknowledgment that He is the Lord of my life. My husband might never come to faith or accept my faith. I have to do my duties without resentment in abandonment to His will, trusting that Jesus will give me the grace to be patient, kind and forgiving. I also need to honor and respect my husband now and love him for who he is, recognizing his limitations and also recognizing every positive thing about him without letting this one deficiency cause me to lose hope.

I surrender.

The veil has come to symbolize my efforts to give up my controlling ways. To this end, I do sometimes cover when I'm at home when I need an extra reminder of that resolution. I love how Quaker Jane sums up her reasons to cover as I found the exact same thing was true with me. As I give up control and allow my husband to lead, he feels respected and more powerful and secure in the relationship. If I let him have a voice in my faith, then he feels less threatened by it. As I witness Oliver judiciously making good decisions for our family I begin to have more trust, respect and esteem for him. We all benefit from my surrender.

This puts me in mind of the obedience required by nuns to their Mother Superior. I have sometimes thought of my home as my cloister. It makes sense that I learn to submit to my husband in light of St. Paul's exhortation to wives in Ephesians 5:22-24. I have come to realize that it's my responsibility to do as God asks me. I have to faithfully submit to my husband regardless of whether my husband holds up his end of the bargain. I have to leave his faith between him and God, even though sometimes it pains me to keep my mouth shut.

In being obedient to my vocation I am surrendering myself to God's will as laid out in Scripture. Part of that surrender has been relinquishing my vision of what my life as a Catholic woman would look like. I have treasured in my heart the idea of welcoming children as they come, staying at home to raise them and possibly even homeschooling. I am now starting to let go of those preconceived notions. My husband wants me to work outside the home so that we can get debt free. He wants only 2 or 3 children. Ultimately I can express my desires to him, but I have to be open to the possibility that he will say "no". I have to accept that answer as though it comes from God himself, and trust that if God has other plans then He will work on my husband's heart.

In these difficult moments I must choose to be joyful and look to Mary and admire her courage and quiet strength despite the sword that pierces her heart. And just look at that humble veil, too.

Veiling and Testimony

I spoke before about how I planned to cover my head during Mass as a devotion during Advent. I listed a couple of reasons there for doing so, but it just occurred to me that those reasons that I gave seem a little shallow and that I'm once again guilty of not expressing my true heart in the matter because of my habit of always keeping things light. All I have to give in this vineyard is my testimony and I have held back!

Truly, the reason that I feel called to veil myself during Mass is that I feel so wonderfully grateful for God's mercy to me. I am humbled that he would appear before me in the image of the Blessed Sacrament. I am humbled that he would stoop so low to deal with me at all, preserving me from death and drawing me ever closer to the Truth. Imagine! Despite my sinfulness! All of this gratitude has poured out of me especially since focusing my devotion on Divine Mercy. I am astounded by the Lord's great mercy! That's what I meant when I said before that I want to veil as an act of humility. Let me tell you about God's mercy toward me.

As a teen I abandoned Christianity without too much thought. I didn't understand the faith. My understanding in middle school was about what you would expect a 4 year old to know. I assumed that the faith really was that simple and people only believed it because they were afraid of Hell. I was seeking something real, something that I could relate to and understand. That's how I tumbled into Paganism. Specifically Wicca, at least for awhile. I thought it made sense on a natural level. At its core modern Paganism relies on the underlying assumption that there is one Supreme Being who human beings are incapable of understanding. Different religions are simply different facets or ways of understanding this God. Pagans seek to understand God through observation and celebration of nature. The moon and its cycles, the sun, fertility, harvests, solstices, equinoxes, earth, air, fire and water. Femininity and masculinity. There was magic and spells, too, but for me the initial draw was the yearning to know and understand God.

I didn't think that anyone would accept me with my new beliefs so I hid them. I cloaked myself in cynicism, believing that Christians were hostile and bigoted. What I never realized was that in doing so I was bigoted. I was hateful. I was selfish. I assumed the worst of everyone to protect myself from being hurt. I think the cynicism was the most damaging effect of the Paganism. Even after I started calling myself a Deist (Paganism Lite) I still couldn't shake it. I was defensive. Christians would give me Bible tracts on campus and I would look at them, mock them and throw them away. I was right and there was nothing you could do to change my mind on that.

The first event that shook me out of my comfortable little cocoon was that I got into a car accident back in 2005 or 2006. I was driving down the highway at 70 mph and a vehicle in the lane to the right of me started merging into me. My reflex was to swerve out of the way. When I did that, my car hit the grass in the median and I lost control. The car was winding wildly like a snake left and right and eventually headed toward the oncoming traffic on the other side of the highway. There was no divider, just open grass. It seemed miraculous to me at the time that my car was stopped suddenly, hit on the empty passenger's side by a light pole. I was bruised, but not injured. I seriously felt like someone had controlled my car to hit at just the right spot. Everything my mom had ever told me about guardian angels as a child came back to me and I started to wonder whether God preserved my life. Such a thing would have been an act of real power by a God that actually cares. Not like the unconcerned god of Deism or the do-whatever-you-want gods of Paganism. A god who has a will. A personal God, like God the Father of Christianity.

God could have let me die in that sorry state. I would probably have been Hell bound! I am so grateful that He loved me too much to leave there at that moment. He saved me, and He didn't stop working on me, chiseling away my walls and defenses ever since then, leading me back to the rest of his flock. He really was gentle and meek to me, leading with kindness and of course, great mercy. I didn't deserve anything that He did for me.

I suppose that is ultimately what I meant when I named this blog Seeking Ewe. My name is Rachel, meaning ewe. I was seeking God, but He sought me first. All I can do is share this measly testimony and heartily rejoice with Mary in Scripture:

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.

The humility of veiling, for me, is an acknowledgement of my status as a simple "lowly servant" who relies utterly on his grace and who rejoices in his great mercy. It's something that I want to wear not because I am holy, but because I am a sinner. The reasons I mentioned before are true, as well, but above is the heart of the matter.

I will soon be participating in an veiling-for-Advent link-up with Tiffany @ Life of a Catholic Librarian and Cristina @ Filling My Prayer Closet which I providentially found out about after I had already decided to practice this devotion. Our God is good, is he not?! If anyone reads this, think about joining us!

Knitting Berets

I started knitting a beret yesterday. I haven't knit a stitch in about two years, so you can imagine the weighty situation which called me out of hibernation. Hopefully the current beret won't turn out like this unfortunate creation that I fought with in 2009 and then never wore. Anyway...

I really hate this hat...

I've been thinking lately about covering my hair at Mass as a devotion during Advent (though I will likely start early). There are a number of reasons that want to practice this devotion, and all come back to Christ as the impetus in some roundabout way. The first is that I'm hoping this act of humility will help me be more reverent at Mass even when I'm fighting the distractions caused by my wiggly 8 month old. The second is that I'm hoping it will be a reminder (not necessarily at Mass) to be respectful of my husband as the head of our household. Also, the Bible and stuff. Even if St. Paul's directive for women to cover their heads was a cultural discipline, I still think it's a lovely thing to do.

The problem is I'm not sure that the veil or mantilla is the way I want to step into this devotion. The parish I go to isn't liberal, but it's not the most reverent. Example. Last Sunday during Mass our priest stopped the liturgy in the middle of the consecration, came down the aisle and ogled at a baby that was crying in the pew. After a few moments of distraction, Mass resumed. Now, I don't want to stop going to this parish. I go there because people are friendly and our priest is very welcoming and encouraging of children and babies at Mass. Not the kind of place where someone would give you and your crying baby the stink eye. It's a very life-affirming parish, but as an introverted convert it doesn't always have the reverence that I would like. I don't think any women wear veils except Hispanic grannies who don't speak much English. I think wearing beautiful lace would be a distraction to others and GREAT BIG attraction for my Lillian's grabby little hands. So I'm trying to think of some ways to cover my hair in a way that will not draw attention to myself.

Last Sunday I wore a scarf tied daintily around my head. This Sunday I think I may wear a slouchy tam that my aunt crocheted for me. But ultimately, my plan is to make a few different berets to wear with different outfits. That pink monstrosity above just doesn't cut it. I would really like to make a black beret, but I don't have black in my dusty yarn stash. So it's sage green for me!