Family

Much distributist literature is about securing freedom and independence for Catholic families, and rightly so. Rural living is promoted because it is believed to offer a greater degree of economic independence compared to city life. Distributist writers have noted that during periods of strife and economic hardship, the rural populations, being closer to the land and its resources, have generally been better off than urban dwellers. Food, shelter, and clothing are man’s most basic material needs, and these can only be supplied from the farms and forests of the countryside.

However, the modern distributist-minded homesteader has a bit of a problem. Unlike earlier times, rural dwellers today are as dependent upon the city as city dwellers are dependent upon the country. For better or worse, our “advanced” economy has created a civilization of complex and inescapable interdependence. For the rural dweller, the only way out of his dependence upon the city is to drop out of civilization altogether.

Here’s something you can tell your sons.

The girl you plan to marry is drop-dead gorgeous. She’s also a virtuous girl who is sweet, kind, and considerate of others. Her intelligence is apparent to all, and her many talents will be of great benefit to your household. While she is neither frivolous nor flighty, she enjoys life and has a wonderful sense of humor. Most importantly, she loves children, and she promises to be a loving and devoted mother. She obviously loves you very much, and I hope and pray that she fills your life with happiness.

Why Flowers Don’t Have Faces
by Amy, age 8

Before Adam ate his apple,
the flowers had faces.

Before you saw smiles,
but now you just see traces.

Now to see the smiles
you must travel miles.

The devil long before
had destroyed our smiles.

That is why to see them
you must travel miles.

This has been the first morning I’ve seen daylight in Orland for a long time. So, after having a good smoke with my Christmas Peterson (thank you, honey), I loaded everyone up in the van and headed to the Saturday swap meet in town.

On the way, we stopped by a local orchard and bought a bag of fresh navel oranges and a few jars of homemade jam. The proprietor has three acres of citrus, which he ripens on the tree and sells direct to the consumer in a little roadside store. The store is open for about 6 months out of the year, and also sells locally grown kiwi, mandarins, grapefruit, almonds, pecans, and walnuts. The third-generation owner has a regular job with the sherriff’s department, but he will be retiring next year to work the family business full-time.

I keep up occasional correspondence with the prioress of a cloistered Carmelite monastery, and she pointed out to me that our daughter’s baptism (Jan. 2nd) coincided with the birthday of St. Therese of Lisieux. I didn’t know this. Now this is exceedingly cool because I have a devotion to St. Therese, and last year I received as a gift an icon of her from the convent at Lisieux itself, blessed by a priest, and it is this very icon that hangs over Marie’s bassinet. More proof that Someone is watching out for us in ways strange and mysterious…

Little note: I know many people pronounce Lisieux as “Li-soo” because it’s easier that way, but in actual fact it is pronounced “Liz-ee-uh.”

You know, I’m only 30, but I’ve done a decent amount with my life thus far. I’ve lived in foreign lands and travelled to third world countries and stayed among the natives; I’ve studied philosophy and theology and patristics, Latin, French and Greek; I’ve played in chess tournaments in England, and was captain of my boat on the crew team at Oxford; I’ve got a law degree from Notre Dame and clerk on my state’s Supreme Court… But the absolute greatest thing I’ve ever done, the most satisfying, the most wondrous, is being a mother. Bar none. After the diapers, spit-ups, thousand loads of laundry, and sleep-deprivation, Marie’s little smile still sends me over the moon, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

This morning, due to a not-entirely-culpable lateness in rising, we thought we’d try a local Novus Ordo mass rather than driving 1.5 hours to Sacramento. First stop, St. Monica’s in Willows. The faithful meander into the church chattering away and dressed for a day at the beach. An altar girl lights the candles. A woman is solemnly seated in a chair to the right of the altar table, and two more women are “tuning up” their guitars and what not in the corner as if preparing for a concert. After a short time the solemnly-seated 60ish-looking crop-haired woman gets up, ascends the podium, and says “Good morning!”. Most of the congregation replies jovially, “Good morning!” She then proceeds to announce some news about a “presider” - I didn’t catch it all - and then turns to one of the women with the instruments. The music lady then announces that we must all sing “Gather Us In” (a song I’ve never heard) together, and everyone commences with the awful song. All of this and still no sight of a priest anywhere. We got up and left.

My love and tender one are you
My sweet and lovely son are you
You are my love and darling you
Unworthy, I of you

Your mild and gentle eyes proclaim
The loving heart with which you came
A tender helpless tiny babe
With boundless gifts of grace

King of Kings, most holy one
Gone the sun eternal one
You are my God and helpless son
High ruler of mankind

My love and tender one are you
My sweet and lovely son are you
You are my love and darling you
Unworthy, I of you

Merry Christmas

In a recent discussion with Pansy Moss, I said that I would try to post some research on divorce and domestic violence that specifically refutes certain commonly accepted “facts”. Due to lack of time my own comments will be brief. With respect to divorce, Dr. Steven Baskerville writeshere in Catholic World Report:

“Arizona State University psychologist Sanford Braver has shown that at least two-thirds of American divorces are initiated by women. Moreover, few of these divorces involve grounds such as desertion, adultery, or violence. The reasons most often given are ‘growing apart’ or ‘not feeling loved or appreciated.’ Other studies have reached similar conclusions. The proportion of divorces initiated by women climbed to more than 70 percent when no-fault divorce was introduced, according to Margaret Brinig of the University of Iowa and Douglas Allen of Simon Fraser University. Mothers ‘are more likely to instigate separation, despite a deep attachment to their children and the evidence that many divorces harm children.’”

I understand why mothers are constantly tuned into the needs of their babies, why they are born multi-taskers, why they have eyes in the backs of their heads, and why they can survive on very little sleep for extended periods of time. It is all built into women, with few exceptions.

But can anyone tell me what it is, exactly, that keeps a sleeping father from rolling over and smothering his 4-month old baby night after night? Can anyone tell me why the whole night long he seems not to move from the very edge of the bed?