What Can I Give Him – Poor as I Am?

Lord, take my energies, fears and delights
Swaddled as gifts for this holiest night
Find in me merit to offer as well
May all my actions of You always tell

by Paula Zwenger

 

Infant of Bethlehem, born as a King,
hear my Hosanna, so lowly to bring.
Naught finds me worthy of gifts you acclaim,
cradled in manger of Bethlehem’s fame.

Wise men on bended knee knew of Your worth,
hidden in essence of lowliest birth.
Keep from my simple heart lure beyond love.
Shield me from lies, under wings of the dove.

Spirit my rescue, as advocate now.
Many, unknowing, continue to plow
furrows so worldly of death and decay,
burying freedoms You’ve planted this day.

~~~

Child, He says lovingly, all that you need
find there inside you as grace given seed.
Here, your compassion – for mercy to start;
here I’ve placed talents to serve broken hearts.

Here your humility, born of the Son,
showing how meekly the battle is won.
No need for distance to seek for a star.
Offer Me everything, right where you are.

Hold nothing back as if measuring worth;
I am Redeemer who called you at birth.
Lo, in your forming, no love has been spared;
trust in My power and never be scared.

~~~

Lord, take my energies, fears and delights,
swaddled as gifts for this holiest night.
Find in me merit to offer as well;
may all my actions of You always tell –

here is an offering of my next breath,
whether spent joyful or feeling bereft.
Here is my poverty, here is my pain,
here every gift You have poured in Your reign.

Yes Lord, I understand, all is from You,
bounty for offering, mercies so true.
All from my poverty; riches to place
here at Your manger, proclaiming Your grace.

~~~

Years from this instant, salvation spread far,
still we’ll be guided by Christ-naming star.
Bright for posterity, wonder-marked sign –
lighted for healing of your heart and mine.

 

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Paula Zwenger
is a wife, mother, and grandmother who, upon finding herself an empty nester, tried on the hat of rhyme loving writer. It fit very well. Her joy manifests completely while taking the ups and downs of life and wrangling them into poetry. She also has a passion for creating rhymed treasure hunts with a Catholic flare to celebrate the faith and learn a thing or two along the way. You can find her musings at RhymeLovingWriter.com.

The Case of the Missing Elf on the Shelf

So who’s idea was it to create a new tradition for NOW – this crazy season of great expectations –  when we are expected to accomplish a regular day’s work and then deck the halls, dodge the traffic, bake up a storm and – OH! I almost forgot – actually help our families prepare spiritually for the coming of Christ! 

I have a confession to make. Please don’t judge me. And please don’t tell my kids.

Here goes.

I sent our elf dumpster diving 800px-Elf_on_the_Shelf_poses_01last Christmas.

I know. That’s a terrible thing for a mother to do.

But don’t worry – he never suspected a thing. I assure you, the little guy was all game, smiling with those joyful but mischievous little eyes  – all ready to play along in the spirit of his Christmas mission. Without asking any questions, he dove right in with scraps of ribbons and wrappings as I disposed of all evidence of material overreach. No doubt he was expecting a great search party and a celebration some time soon – only they never came.

Like I said – don’t judge.

In my defense, that little red intruder was seriously infringing on our Advent season. I’m sure he meant no harm. But day after day, year after year, he just seemed to suck the air out of Advent and the Christ out of Christmas.

I know I’ll have tons of haters out there. But do you REALLY enjoy your Christmas being absconded by a tiny little elf that requires so much time and energy?! From the moment the kids were introduced to that cheeky little stalker a few years ago  – a well-intentioned and fun-spirited albeit “needy” gift from my mother – I have felt my resentment growing.

Say what you want about Santa. He may have been commercialized, but he does have his roots in sainthood. At least we could – and do – talk with our children about how St. Nicholas was given a special mission by God to spread Christ’s message of love and giving. About how in a special way he helps us to celebrate Christ’s birth.  But the elf? Maybe I just don’t “get” him. But for me he was like an everyday reminder of secularism – IN OUR HOME. I just couldn’t seem to escape him. Call me impulsive and underhanded. But I like to think of it more along the lines of self-preservation.

In addition to having nothing to do with Christ, and in no way enhancing our celebration of Advent or preparing our hearts for Christmas, our elf was pretty darned uncreative with his hiding places. If I were Santa, I would have fired him a long time ago. He often went for days at a time hanging out on a shelf in the middle of the living room like he’d completely forgotten his purpose. He was pretty lazy, all things considered.

And yes, I’ll admit it. My disdain was personal. Rather than spread the joy, our little elf served as a constant reminder of my lack of hospitality. I would pretty much characterize him as nothing more than a noose around my neck for the entire month of December.

Truth be told, I’ve actually been known to completely log out of Pinterest and FB over the holidays just to avoid being reminded of what a dud we welcomed into our home. In other people’s homes little elves were throwing parties, bathing in marshmallows or hosting potato sack races. In our home, we were hosting a couch potato.

I totally get that in order for the Elf on the Shelf to make himself at home, wandering around and getting into all sorts of mischief or just hanging out like one of the guys, there must be some modicum of hospitality from ME. But therein lies the entire problem. Every year at this time it’s like our home gets invaded by an unwelcome guest who is all smiles and modest, and all, “No, really I’m fine, just let me hang out here on the mantle and fulfill my mission” but who, honestly, puts me out on a daily (OK, nightly) basis, IF I remember him at all. And to make matters worse – almost EVERY morning – I’m all, “Darn! I forgot all about that little stinker again last night.” And then the kids spend most of December being disappointed, because they hear about everyone else’s elf adventures while their elf smiles dumbly from the same perch for most of the season. We can’t seem to escape being one-upped. Our next door neighbors are so hospitable they host two of the little buggers!

So that’s my story. Despite that little part about my letting the kids think their elf just ran away, things have been pretty peaceful around here this year. And truth be told, I really didn’t see another way out.

If cornered, I would plead NOT GUILTY. Frankly, I did not ask for this house guest, And there is no way my mother could have imagined that she was setting me up for absolute failure. But seriously? Throwing this little beast of burden on unsuspecting parents during the busiest time of year?

If you haven’t done it, please don’t.

I mean, eleven months out of the year, it’s all we parents can do to get our kids to bed, do some laundry, clean the kitchen, finish a little work, balance the checkbook, plan our meals and get everything ready for all the activities on the coming day’s calendar. Meet any parent on the street, and you will see a sleep-deprived individual. So who’s idea was it to create a new tradition for NOW – this crazy season of great expectations –  when we are expected to accomplish a regular day’s work and then deck the halls, dodge the traffic, bake up a storm and – OH! I almost forgot – actually help our families prepare spiritually for the coming of Christ! 

Call my methods extreme and underhanded. Yes, I’ll admit it. My conscience isn’t quite where I’d like it to be. I did spend a few days quietly watching the kids frantically search through all the Christmas boxes for our elf and listening to their pitiful confessions that perhaps their elf disappeared because they touched him last year and he lost his “magic.”

But after all the initial excitement, I am very pleased to say that out-of-sight-out-of-mind has been rather effective and we have actually enjoyed a very peaceful Advent season with no elf on our shelf.

We’ve been lighting the Advent candles and pulling out our Jesse tree ornaments. We are reading Christmas stories. And to top it off, there is no discussion about where the elf is or why he hasn’t moved or whether Santa doesn’t like our family because our elf doesn’t play like all the other elves. Even better, there is no guilt-ridden Mommy every single morning. I’d even venture to say it’s been fairly joyful here.

Except for the little part about my actually being a malicious source of sadness for my kids. In that regard, I’ve been doing a little thinking. Is it possible that I can have my cake and eat it too? In the interest of “honesty”, I think I’ve come up with a solution to clear my conscience and bring resolution for the little ones. I read an article the other day about a mother who also must have had enough (You are not alone!). Only SHE had the foresight to ask Santa to write a letter to her children, rather than throwing her elf out on the street, or allowing  him to disappear without a trace. Perhaps Santa will find our elf for me and allow him to be a Christmas toy instead of a spy. We’ll see…maybe with Santa’s help, we can all win and there will be happy closure for my kids in the Case of the Missing Elf on the Shelf.

 

 

Painting a Thousand Words of Grace – An Advent Lesson

Expectancy of holy heart, in quiet moments set apart,
makes room for Him who came for all as tiny babe in manger stall.

by Paula Zwenger

Quantity does not equal quality. We were several years into family life before proof of this truth presented itself on our doorstep by way of participation in a children’s marigold_garden_pictures_and_rhymes_1910_14566514398Christmas pageant.

Too much of a good thing?

As a young family, opportunities abounded for holiday related preparation. Many were offered through our parish community (Advent family night, Posada, caroling, etc.), but some were part of school or extracurricular commitments. We attended everything.

Before long, our combined activities had us spending more time at practices, rehearsals and presentations than we were spending at home. We knew Christmas was coming, but we were busy, for goodness sake, with all these wonderful activities in which we’d committed to take part.

Captured for Posterity

One year, after dress rehearsal, someone captured a candid shot of my then five year old daughter. She is sitting on the altar step in her angel costume, wings akimbo, halo askew, chin firmly cupped in hands, legs arranged in less than ladylike fashion, appearing weary to the bone.

Likely I was busy somewhere intent on other details…too busy to notice the toll our hectic Advent activity schedule was taking on her.

I’ve pondered this shot annually for over twenty eight years as an examination as Advent begins. It helps answer the questions of how best to spend time in efforts to welcome Christ.

Will the beauty of a rich liturgical heritage be embraced or will we squander the grace of the season on weariness of a worldly kind? Will contemplation, meditation, and wonder be paramount or will a hectic schedule of activities bring our family to the brink of exhaustion?

I keep this precious reminder packed away with our Advent decorations. It finds prominent display space with wreath, candles, and empty crèche, from the first day of each new liturgical year, as a reminder to keep Advent well.

Symbols and signs of faith and family provide valuable encouragement as we enter again into a new liturgical year.  Mementos from seasons past provide a timely reminder that we don’t have to chase after the ‘right’ activities to experience God. He is here, waiting patiently, for us to welcome Him into our hearts and lives.

We find Him in music and pageants, surely; but also through quiet daily prayers at home and sacrifices offered in secret, softening our hearts to become anew His manger bed.

 

Waiting for Jesus like Mary

Expectancy of holy heart, in quiet moments set apart,
makes room for Him who came for all as tiny babe in manger stall.

In Advent days of waiting well we visit stories meant to tell
of God incarnate. Blend our gaze to Love beyond the present days.

No tinseled wrap could well adorn the gift received on Christmas morn;
our swaddled Savior, Mary’s face; a tableau of indwelling grace.

We pause, and offer daily tasks designed to help in what He asks:
to love Him first with all we are, then love each neighbor near or far.

Each waited day, in blest delight, we rush to serve with Mary’s sight;
to honor and uphold His will, remembering His coming, still.

From first to last, our Advent plan, we pray for heart of every man.
No rush to fall, no wearied way. Come quickly Lord, we pray. We pray.

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Paula Zwenger
is a wife, mother, and grandmother who, upon finding herself an empty nester, tried on the hat of rhyme loving writer. It fit very well. Her joy manifests completely while taking the ups and downs of life and wrangling them into poetry. She also has a passion for creating rhymed treasure hunts with a Catholic flare to celebrate the faith and learn a thing or two along the way. You can find her musings at RhymeLovingWriter.com.

Are We Sacrificing our Children’s Future to the Evils of the Past?

Rather than warn about the dangers of communism, the objective of these authors seems to be to show even brutal communist leader, Joseph Stalin, in a favorable light.

One of my children transferred into a public school for the first time this year, as a junior in high school. I’d heard rumors. I watch the news. I was somewhat prepared for the 120px-Hammer_and_sicklechallenges. And, of course, there were reasons that I chose homeschooling for his primary years. That said, I’ve been astonished at the overt jabs made in his textbooks – particularly history – toward all that I hold dear.

Here just two examples that demonstrate an antithetical understanding of faith in God, completely separating faith from rational thought:

Franklin never denied the existence of God. Rather, he pushed the Lord aside, making room for the free exercise of human reason. (p. 91, referring to Benjamin Franklin)

You may see this as flowery prose. But I’ve read Franklin’s autobiography. Anyone who has studied Benjamin Franklin at all knows that he never “pushed the Lord aside.” To even imply that he did is disingenuous, if not malicious. On the very first page of his autobiography, Franklin refers to the “blessings of God. And on the second page, he states,

And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all Humility to acknowledge, that I owe the mention’d Happiness of my past Life to his kind Providence, which led me to the Means I us’d & gave them Success. My belief of this, induces me to hope, tho’ I must not presume, that the same Goodness will still be exercis’d towards me in continuing that Happiness…

Does that sound like a man who would ever push the Lord aside? Read the book – there are plenty of passages that would directly dispute the textbook quote above.

Here is another example that again sets up a “rational vs. religious” disparity. This quote was taken from a packet the kids were given to study for the same class:

Despite the inroads of rationalism, nineteenth-century Americans remained a profoundly religious people – as they have been ever since.

Here is a quote that takes on religious conservatives. I found this among many in a completely degrading and dismissive article highlighted as a sidebar on p.301:

…the more recent evangelical engagement with politics that was labeled the New Christian Right sprung up in the 1980’s — epitomized by organizations such as the Moral Majority — mostly has been a conservative force of reaction against great changes in American society. The fundamentalist Moral Majority crystallized around the politcal issues of opposition to abortion and gay rights, as well as promotion of school prayer and vouchers for private schools. [emphases mine]

Not only did they demonstrate opposition to religious values, as seen above, but further on in the sidebar, they slammed religious motives by implying that Christians are bigots:

Unlike earlier evangelical reformers, they are motivated less by millennial perfectionism than by alarm at the growing diversity and secularization of American society, and they have joined with other religious conservatives in their political campaigns.

But along with a great challenge the writers have in seeing religious people as rational individuals with laudable motives, the book also appears to show unbelievable sympathy toward anti-religious political philosophies – particularly Communism – a belief system that Our Lady sought to halt by asking that Russia be consecrated to her Immaculate Heart. Catholics have long sought to educate the public on the dangers inherent within communist ideology. Saint John Paul II , through the Hand of Divine Providence, played a key role in the ultimate demise of the Russian communist empire (USSR).

Even in secular circles, most adults who grew up during the cold war have some understanding of the dangers of Communism, which was responsible for the deaths of 100 million people in the 20th Century.

In an introduction to the Cold War, these authors seems to show communist leader, Joseph Stalin, in a favorable light, while they cast a shadow over President Truman (emphases below are mine):

“I am getting ready to go see Stalin and Churchill,” President Truman wrote to his mother in July 1945, “and it is a chore.” On board the cruiser Augusta, the new president continued to complain about the upcoming Potsdam Conference in his diary. “How I hate this trip!” he confided. “But I have to make it win, lose or draw, and we must win. I am giving nothing away except to save starving people, and even then I hope we can only help them to help themselves.”

Halfway around the world, Joseph Stalin left Moscow a day late because of a slight heart attack. The Russian leader hated to fly, so he traveled by rail. Moreover, he ordered the heavily guarded train to detour around Poland for fear of an ambush, further delaying his arrival. When he made his entrance into Potsdam, a suburb of Berlin miraculously spared the total destruction that his forces had created in the German capital, he was ready to claim the spoils of war.

These two men, one the veteran revolutionary who had been in power for two decades, the other an untested leader in office for barely three months, symbolized the enormous differences that now separated the wartime allies. Stalin was above all a realist. Brutal in securing total control at home, he was more flexible in his foreign policy, bent on exploiting Russia’s victory in World War II rather than aiming at world domination. Cunning and caution were the hallmarks of his diplomatic style. Small in stature, ungainly in build, he radiated a catlike quality as he waited behind his unassuming facade, ready to dazzle an opponent with hisbrilliant, terrifying tactical mastery.Truman, in contrast, personified traditional Wilsonian idealism. Lacking Roosevelt’s guile, the new president placed his faith in international cooperation. Like many Americans, he believed implicitly in his country’s innate goodness. Self-assured to the point of cockiness, he came to Potsdam clothed in the armor of self-righteousness. – p. 700 [emphases mine]

Please remember, Stalin is a man responsible for the deaths of over 20 million of his own people. But I didn’t find a word about his murder rate. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Granted, this is an American history book. But some back story may have been helpful as the writers describe our conflict with communists. Instead, the book explains that the Cold War was the result of land disputes in Europe after WWII, and American “distrust” of Russian motives. At the first mention of communism, here is the wording:

“After emerging victorious from World War II, the United States and the Soviet Union found themselves locked in a bitter rivalry that threatened to trigger nuclear destruction of the entire planet. At stake in this contest were not only national ambitions but also incompatible ideologies – capitalism and communism – that amplified popular suspicion and animosity. Americans feared that as agents of world communism, the leaders of the Soviet Union planned the destruction of the free market as well as individual liberty. Indeed, Americans became convinced, especially during the McCarthy “Red Scare” era of the early 1950’s, that the Soviet Union had organized an insidious conspiracy that reached into the State Department and Pentagon and compromised the interests of the United States. Playing on the fear of ordinary citizens, Senator Joseph McCarthy accused famous writers, filmmakers, and musicians of being Soviet spies and Communists intent on helping the enemy. Wars waged in far-off countries such as Vietnam aimed to halt the spread of communism, and a growing anxiety over imagined Soviet aggression served to heighten among the American people a sense of the United States having a special mission as defender of democracy and capitalism.” – 100 [emphases mine]

Communism isn’t the only philosophy looked kindly upon in this textbook. Socialism is painted not merely with sympathy, but positively. Just about everywhere I read the word socialism, it was juxtaposed with the “injustices” of capitalism. Beneath the photo of a campaign poster for “Eugene V. Debs” on the Socialist ticket, the caption reads:

Presidential campaign poster for Eugene V. Debs on the Socialist party of America ticket in 1904. The poster’s imagery appeals to industrial workers, miners, and farmers, and its slogan, “Workers of the world unite,” was a key call to action of the party to challenge the injustices of capitalism. – p. 573

When describing Debs, the book says that his party was never effectively organized to create change, but,

…he was eloquent, passionate, and visionary. An excellent speaker, he captivated audiences, attacking the injustices of capitalism and urging a workers’ republic. – p. 573

Later,

By 1911, there were socialist mayors in thirty-two cities, including Berkley, California, Butte, Montana; and Flint, Michigan….although torn by factions, the Socialist party doubled in membership between 1904 and 1908, then tripled in the four years after that. Running for president, Debs garnered 100,000 votes in 1900; 400,000 in 1904; and 900,000 in 1912, the party’s peak year. – p. 573

According to Vladimir Lenin, who led the Bolsheviks in the Communist Revolution of 1917, “The Goal of Socialism is Communism“. The tone of this book should be extremely concerning to all freedom-loving Americans. The most damning comment I found about socialism was that it didn’t gain much popularity. Otherwise, tenants seemed to be couched in rather idealistic terms.

But capitalism?

While some historians have argued that paternalism was part of a social system that was organized like a family hierarchy rather than a brutal, profit-making arrangement, there was no inconsistency between planter’s paternalism and capitalism. – p 269

Industrial capitalism — the world of factories and foremen and grimy machines — tested the immigrants and placed an enormous strain on their families. – p. 471

Many businesses used injunctions and “yellow-dog contracts” — which forbade employees to join unions – to establish open shops and deny workers the benefits of collective bargaining. Other employers wooed their workers away from unions using techniques of welfare capitalism – spending money to improve plant conditions and winning employee loyalty with pensions, paid vacations, and company cafeterias…. – p. 626

As I skimmed through this text, the distinct message was that religion and capitalism are bad. Communism and Socialism, on the other hand, seem to be held as superior alternatives to those values inherent in the fabric of our Republic.

According to Paul Kengor in his recently released book, The Politically Incorrect Guide to Communism,

We won the Cold War in the political arena, but lost it in the classroom. If and when communism is taught at all in American schools, the communists are lauded for their idealism, their devotion to equality for women and minorities. Their actual track record – the politically created famines, the wars of aggression, the body count in the tens of millions – is too frequently passed over in silence. – p. 3

That has been my experience with my son’s text. While I merely skimmed the book, I could not possibly find room in this post to share all the mud slinging I found – whether directly or by insinuation – directed toward our Catholic values.

Communism is dangerous. Socialism is a leap in that direction and gaining in popularity among the young in America, as demonstrated by the huge popularity of Bernie Sanders, self-proclaimed democratic socialist, who ran against Hilary Clinton in the 2016 presidential primary.

Recently, a poll conducted by the Victims of Communism Memorial Foundation found that 58% of Millennials would rather live in a Socialist, Communist or Fascist nation than a Capitalist one. After surveying this book, I must say that I am not surprised. Sadly, few of those who responded to the poll could properly define socialism, communism or fascism.

My aim here is merely to shed a light on my own experience and suggest that you take a closer look at your children’s texts. You may be surprised.

I did meet with my son’s principal to discuss my concerns. He was very kind, and frankly, surprised by some of what I showed him. But do you know what he said? He told me that I was the first parent to speak out since they began using this book four years ago. Do you know what that tells me?

I was right to SPEAK OUT.

And YOU should SPEAK OUT too.

We should not stand idly by and roll our eyes at the anti-Christian, anti-capitalist, anti-American propaganda being imposed upon our children. Speaking out is the only way we can take back our schools. Action is critical. For if we allow our schools to mislead and even fail to educate our children about key events in the past, aren’t we dooming them to repeat it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How I Played Footsie with Evil and How God Set Me Straight

With my hands still burning, and wanting only to erase that awful image from my mind, I turned and walked quickly back to Sarah, who had busied herself staring at some unremarkable section of books as she made the sign of the cross yet again. I know she would have given anything to have holy water in that moment.

On a day when so many are telling ghost stories and watching horror films, I thought you might appreciate a true story about why I steer away from anything of Hallowe'en_at_Merryvale_2the sort.

Oh, I used to love a good movie around Halloween. Especially about demonic possession or evil incarnate. Not anymore. Because now I’ve experienced the real thing. And I’d just as soon steer clear of any reminders.

A few years after converting to Catholicism, I had an experience that I will never forget. This was a dangerous moment where I actually played footsie with darkness. It is a moment I will never repeat. And for the rest of my life I will be thankful for God’s almost immediate but very loving rebuke.

There was nothing particularly notable about the day. A good friend and I were wandering through Barnes and Noble with our little ones strapped into their strollers. We’d just made our way from the train tables, where our boys had worn themselves out in “Thomas the Tank Engine heaven”, to the Religion section, where we hoped to browse a bit before they found their second wind.

Out of the blue, my friend – I’ll call her “Sarah”  – pointed across the way with her finger. Her eyes were fixed on the ground while her finger pointed straight ahead. In hushed tones, she said, “They have one here.”

“What?” I asked. I had no idea what she was talking about, but her odd behavior had me perplexed.

She was visibly nervous as she gestured frantically in the direction of a shelf positioned perpendicular to the aisle in which we were standing. Almost in a whisper, she said, “A Satanic Bible. They have one here.”

Recently she and I had had a discussion, wherein she told me that she had known someone with a Satanic Bible in high school. I was shocked. I never knew such a thing existed, much less could I imagine that anyone would actually OWN one. “Wow,” I said at the time. “Does it look like a regular book? Is it written in English? Who would write such a thing?!” I had more questions than she had answers, so she must have figured this was her chance to show  me in person that, yes, there was such a thing, and yes, it looked like a regular book.

While she did see fit to point toward the book, Sarah clearly had no intention of looking at it herself. Rather than even turn in the direction she had pointed, Sarah cowered in a corner making the sign of the cross.

I was not so easily flustered. Having no fear whatsoever, I marched right over to the bookshelf, scanning it for a so-called ‘Satanic Bible.’ It didn’t take long. Looking back, I’m embarrassed to admit there was something rebellious in me that wanted the opposite posture from what I had seen in my friend. I’ll admit it. I had an attitude. In my mind, this was a book. Nothing more. And I was going to show Sarah that, while I was curious to see what a Satanic Bible looked like, actually looking at one was no big deal.

Purposefully but casually, I slid the book from the shelf and flipped it over in order to read the back. What I saw can only be described as the most horrifically evil photo I’ve ever encountered. I cannot provide details. In fact, I’m thankful to share that Our Lord has placed a veil over my memory of that picture.  All I can recall is its evil nature. I have no distinguishing features to offer. And don’t imagine that I examined the back of the book or flipped through pages to learn more. As soon as I saw the face on the back cover, I nearly threw the book back onto the shelf, unable to remove my fingers from it fast enough.

With my hands still burning, and wanting only to erase that awful image from my mind, I turned and walked quickly back to Sarah, who had busied herself staring at some unremarkable section of books as she made the sign of the cross yet again. I know she would have given anything to have holy water in that moment.

As a fairly recent convert, I was practically rolling my eyes at my friend, the cradle Catholic. Yes, it was evil. No, I didn’t want anything to do with it. But it WAS only a book. I couldn’t imagine having such a reaction – and despite being disturbed by the image, making the sign of the cross at the time seemed almost silly to me. So I didn’t.

Once I ditched the book, my only thought was that Sarah seemed to be over-reacting just a bit. I didn’t like what I saw, but I felt she was taking things a little too far.

Apparently God disagreed. What happened next was purely Divine Providence. And it completely cured me of any curiosity at all related to the “dark” side of life.

We had been at Barnes and Noble on a Friday. The very next day, Saturday, I was scheduled to attend a Catholic homeschool conference just south of Chicago. Please keep in mind that I’ve homeschooled for 15 years. Every summer since my first year, I have attended a homeschool conference. Every year, the keynote speaker has something to do with parenting or teaching. But that day, as I entered the conference and received my schedule, I was shocked when I read about the keynote speaker. You’re not going to believe this.

He was an exorcist.

I am not kidding.

This priest gave one of the most rousing talks I’ve ever heard about Satan and his activities. He emphasized with every breath the need to avoid anything related to the occult and about the dangers that one risks if she allows herself to brush up against darkness. He shared personal experiences with demonic activity that were the result of innocent curiosity. I was stunned. This priest was speaking to ME.

There was no doubt in my mind that this good priest was actually a stand-in for God, Himself, who clearly wanted to send me a message in no uncertain terms. From all eternity, He had planned this moment to teach me a very important lesson. To remind me that the invisible world is full of creatures much stronger and smarter than I. And that some of them are out to destroy me.

As soon as the talk concluded, I hightailed it to the speaker and shared my experience from the day before. I was no longer blasé about those moments I spent in the vicinity of a Satanic Bible. Now I was scared.

After hearing my story, Father assured me that I was probably OK, provided I had learned my lesson. But to be safe, he directed me to head upstairs to the chapel, where there was a large holy water font, and to wash my hands in the holy water without drying them off. He told me to go deep – all the way to my elbows – and he urged me to wash lavishly, and to finish by making the sign of the cross.

I can assure you that I did. And never again have my hands felt as crisp and clean and cool as they did on that day, when, along with any semblance of evil, I washed away all fascination with darkness and any curiosity about the occult that might have remained.

Needless to say, if you and your kids come knocking on our door tonight, you’ll find some happy pumpkins and a welcoming scarecrow. No witches or goblins here. And if you wish to join us, you may find a happy owl and a mad scientist bobbing for apples with a few of their friends. But no gore. Nothing scary. We don’t play footsie with darkness around here. I’ve had my share. And believe me – my kids have heard all about it!