On Structure: Inviting a Framework for Healthy Living

Some days I miss teaching. Rather, I miss the rhythms and order of the school day. I crave the structure inherent in a formal educational setting, complete with an early rising, mapped lesson plans, the ringing of the school bell, and allotted time for lunch, further prep and recess. I marvel reflecting on the discipline required by this profession to have learning objectives and a curriculum laid out that guide each class of learners, and me as their teacher/ facilitator. I miss this kind of framework for my daily life, as well as my role in helping co-create this structure.

As a mom who works part time professionally from home -- and coffee shops-- I need this kind of structure for my sanity, productivity, and well-being. However, this marked rhythm of the day often eludes me. With a beautiful small child at the center of my priorities and focus comes the needs of this little wonder and her own body's growing, changing requirements and evolving temperament. Life changes from day to day. As the old adage goes: the minute you get comfortable knowing your child and their needs, he or she changes.

Marguerite is a good little sleeper by all accounts. There is no question we were blessed by a combination of her disposition and some intentional parenting advice that gave rise to a fairly healthy sleep routine. Kiddo goes down consistently between 7:30pm and 8pm and 9 nights of out 10 stays happily put until 7:30am the next morning. (I'll admit that 7:30am is even EARLY for her to wake, and it's more like 8:30am or 9am when her father or I lift her out of the crib.) It's that tenth evening out of ten, however, when baby girl rears her head towards sleep -- is so engaged in some new piece of learning -- that her spirit demands further awake time, or better yet, more contact time with mom, and things have to shift. My life and rhythms have to shift.

This is parenting, this is a role I have prepped for -- consciously, or unconsciously -- all my adult days. This life is hard.

Add that my dear husband's schedule has changed from week to week for the past 105 that we have been married, and you may begin to fathom my knee-wobbling, weary status. "When do you go to work? When are we having a meal together? Will I see you in bed tonight? Are we able to attend mass together? Do you think we might be able to go out on a date next week?" Nothing is ever really consistent. On Thursday, Mr. Kiemde learns about his Saturday's schedule. Planning ahead is virtually impossible. Add some rocking college courses to the mix of our lives and his schedule, and it all adds up to create a challenging life that invites me to live, most often, ungrounded, but in the present moment.

I hold the needs of my husband and daughter in the center of my heart, and respond accordingly. It's not unlike education in that regard, in that I find my priorities falling behind those of the dear ones that I feel called to be present to, and in the case of family, made a lifetime commitment to.

Enter: The Visitation Sisters. Enter these religious women who have also made a lifetime commitment to Love, to one another, and to God, but whose order of the day is grounded in prayer. Four times a day these nuns convene to pray the liturgy of the hours, to tune into what scripture is saying to them, and unpack their lives through the lens of Love, of God, of inspired Word. It's awesome. I believe this is certainly why I feel called, over and over again, to return to the monastery, to be among the sisters and pray.

Recently, I made a commitment to return to a weekly structured prayer time in the vicinity of the Sisters. The Centering Prayer group that convenes every Tuesday morning at 7:45am at St.. Jane House under the auspices of Vis Companion, Brian Mogren, has rejuvenated me.

I rise -well before my body normally wakes- to shower, dress in the dark, and creep out the door to make my way in early morning rush hour traffic from St. Paul to north Minneapolis, in order to join a group of 15 to 20 or so other friends in silent prayer. Some days I'm able to enter the space during a storytelling time, when a member of the Centering Prayer community is sharing a narrative about their faith journey; I listen and am inspired. Then, with the ringing of a singing bowl announcing the start of prayer, and some intentional words guiding our silent meditation, we enter into the quiet. For twenty minutes I breathe in and out with nothing save the goal to empty myself and make way to tune into the Divine Indwelling. I sit within this circle of aligned individuals from various faith traditions who likewise crave quiet, order, an emptying of all personal agenda, except to Love, Heal, Be. In a word, it's "awesome." At the end of twenty minutes (which goes all to quickly for this aspiring prayer-warrior), another bell rings, and individuals speak aloud prayerful intentions that have surfaced in their meditation. Together, we are joined as individuals in the world with all other prayerful beings around the globe as we give voice to what is in our hearts, or even silently, as we offer these thoughts to a benevolent Creator and one another. Together, we slowly recite the Lord's Prayer, and by 8:30am, we are standing to go on about our day.

And this weekly structured activity is like my salvation. This is where I am able to turn over any and all concerns that plague me and give voice to my heart's deepest longings and largest joys. I celebrate that this group exists. I celebrate all that is necessary for each person to convene to actually convene. I recognize that it is not without some significant conversations and intentional actions on the part of my husband and I to make this weekly activity a possibility for me. I celebrate the way that this experience helps ground me, at least momentarily, in world where I feel so wobbly and crave stability and structure. I celebrate the way that this one activity every Tuesday morning inspires me as a wife, mom, and writer, tuning into the many ways that I am called to love, create and serve in this world.

***

I wonder how you are making structure, or find such parallel experiences or activity in your world?

Peace, Happy Contemplating,
Melissa

On Marriage, Love, Stories: An Invitation to Reflect

"It's my ongoing prayer for all men and women to lead lives that honor the way their hearts and God have called them to love. This includes being able to marry." --Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

I attended a gathering of families and friends on Sunday evening, November 6, 2011, marking the beginning of a year long campaign to celebrate marriage equality. There was food, kid friendly activities, and a short program on the MN United for All Families campaign to defeat the "Marriage Amendment", defining marriage as between one man and one woman. A Catholic neighbor of mine invited me to the event. It was at this gathering that each person present received another invitation. Our host, before her 30 or so guests -- all standing or seated next to each other around the periphery of the living, dining and entryways of her home -- said, "I invite you to tell your stories of what marriage means to you. Don't point or refer to large groups of people in general, tell your story. Make it personal. Share something that can be said in six words, or up to six minutes; think of what you might be able to convey to someone, for example, riding on an elevator with you."

"I invite you to tell your stories of what marriage means to you. Don't point or refer to large groups of people in general, tell your story. Make it personal. Share something that can be said in six words, or up to six minutes..."

The prompt gave me pause, made me smile, and stirred something deep within me that longs to talk about this issue, especially as it relates to my faith, my family, and how I'm called to live love, or "Live + Jesus!" as we say.

Marriage is the transformational vocation I received to live my life committed to one other person, a radical action in any time, in my opinion, evolutionary in its charge. I believe God called me to this institution and to my husband, Francois, just as He called and calls me over and over again to serve others in and through relational ways. Marriage is hard work, no matter who you are or what your sexual orientation is. It's something my partner and I return to daily as we tune into the ways God invites us to love and be gentle and nurturing with one another. I could not do this work without a community of people alongside me, helping model and remind me of Love's mystery, grace and on-going call. The Visitation Sisters, the Catholic women I am a companion to, are such a community of nurturing, religious women, who help anchor me in the ways I've been called to love, partner and serve, as they live their faith and the mystery of the Visitation, fostering mutual love alliances at every turn.

It's my ongoing prayer for all men and women to lead lives that honor the way their hearts and God have called them to love. This includes being able to marry.

Our daughter's godfather is a beautiful Catholic man - who happens to be gay. We chose Zac to serve in this baptismal role for Marguerite because of his gentleness, wisdom, humor, and dedication to his faith. We believe he is a model of God's love in our midst: a God-father for our child in the fullest sense. If Zac is called to marry, and be a father to his own children, we want nothing less for him, as a Catholic family, but to have his heart and calling honored by our larger church and civic communities. We want him to be able to have the love and support that we so need in living out our vocations.

And so we pray. We invite you to share your own stories of what marriage means to you.

******

I share this post here today as a Visitation Companion, as part of my call to write about - and for - women and men discerning their vocations and the way that they may be called in a religious Catholic tradition, as well as in a larger, universal sense -- honoring the Salesian tradition that the Visitation founders - Sts. Francis de Sales and Jane de Chantal - modeled for us.

Fried Green Tomato Church

by Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

After an incredibly trying church service (in which the newly walking Marguerite Kiemde strutted her developmental stuff, doing laps to the front of the church to the choir, out the side door to the street, around the corner to the front steps, toddling up and back inside, and then repeating the entire procedure with me closely behind, celebrating her steps, trying to stay calm, and avoid any judgmental? stares.) If you can imagine: I came home a bit beleaguered.

(How to parent in church? What does an enriching mass experience look like for a young family without a cry room or child-care center? What fine line exists between cultivating a child's physical/ emotional/ developmental stages appropriately, alongside her spiritual sensibilities? If I am not "fed" spiritually, as my child's mom, how do I ever nurture my babe?... That's another blog in and of itself!)

I turn to how Mags and I made "church" at home, after our early departure from Ascension (post-homily/ pre-Eucharist.) In a phrase we found God in: Fried. Green. Tomatoes.
YES!

This past week on facebook there was a whole strand about this delicious summer fare that included several exchanges from my Aunts Marian and Peg and their Osmond/Colorado friend Audrey Wanke Dummer. I asked for recipe ideas, and I got them. And today, after the above described nearly God-less mass, I came home and adapted these cooking ideas, using fresh green tomatoes from my own garden, and tried to channel as much love and family and Jesus as I could into the experience.

I share these recipes with you now, smiling, with a sleeping baby; both she and I with full, happy bellies.

Fried Green Tomatoes
4-6 hard, green tomatoes
Buttermilk
Flour
Panko crumbs
Cayenne Pepper
Garlic Salt
Bacon grease

I began by frying a half a pound of applewood smoked bacon in a skillet. Once browned and crisped, I removed the bacon, placing it on a large paper-towel lined platter, that I would use for the fried tomatoes. I reserved the hot bacon drippings for frying my green tomatoes.

I cut the tomatoes pretty thin, between 1/8 and a 1/4 inches, salting them, and then soaking them in buttermilk, covering them in the cayenne pepper/ garlic salt flour mixture, and adding panko crumbs for extra crunch, before putting each in the hot bacon fat. I was working this assembly line as quickly as possible with messy fingers, and thanking God for a content Marguerite in her high chair (eating a banana and playing with a clean feta cheese container.)

I fried these till they were golden brown, and appreciated the way bits of bacon adhered to the panko crust. Delish!!

Sweet Onion Relish Sauce
Half of a sweet onion, chopped and cubed
1/2 cup mayonnaise
3 Tablespoons rice wine vinegar
Salt

Note: I totally ripped this recipe off from Paula Deen, when I was doing research for the best item to accompany said green tomatoes. (Buttermilk dressing? Spicy mustard? In a sandwich? I didn't know how exactly I was going to EAT the tomatoes once fried.) This sauce rocked!

Paula adds sugar to hers; I didn't. I prepared this onion mixture and served it next to the tomatoes. Maggie then climbed up on my lap and we gobbled up the dish. (Well, mostly, I gobbled up, and she alternated showing me her shoeless and shoed foot.)

***

"How is this church?" you might persist in wondering. To this query, I respond, channeling my best St. Francis de Sales thinking: that all small actions, done with love, are prayerful ones. I add that when we couple prayerful activity --our intentions directed toward God-- with the company of family, friends, angels, saints, are we not in deed experiencing a kind of church?

Today, I experienced service in a literal way, at Church of the Ascension in north Minneapolis, (in all of its parenting complexity) alongside a more figurative celebration: in my kitchen and at my dining table with my daughter, and the company of women and men who have grown and prepared fried green tomatoes in our family. It was a most nurturing kind of meal that buoys who I am as parent.

AMEN.

"Be still and BE:" Gentleness on the Front Lines of Parenting

"Be still and BE."

I'm spending time with the St. Francis de Sales these days. His words on gentleness, and examples of this way of being, are continually emerging in my life; combined with the line "Be still and BE" that I received in an email this morning, this all speaks loudly to my heart and mind.

A simple Salesian phrase from the Visitation Sisters' co-founder that feels connected to this line comes to mind:

"All is gentle to the gentle." --St Francis de Sales (LR VI 28)

I believe that when we allow stillness, simple breathing and an emptying of our hearts and minds to occur, that a gentleness may wash over us.

***

In the midst of my scrambling this morning, sad from an exchange with my husband that simply didn't go the way that I wanted, the effervescent Marguerite spilled over a glass of raspberry iced tea that I had left out. The contents landed on me, my white shirt, light green pants, and some of her "new" garage sale clothes that had recently been laundered: white and khaki items now turned pink-colored.

I swore, and then started crying. I don't like my child to experience me in such a state, but it is my humanity at work, and so what else is there, but to then be gentle with myself, her and respond as I am able. In the moment, I placed my 15 month old daughter in her high chair, and took all the soiled linens to the basement and sprayed them with stain remover.

When I returned, she was staring at me, and all I could see were the piles of dirty dishes in the sink, the unwashed countertops, an ajar back door: things that needed my attention. I was even more mad. And still: crying.

I could hear this Salesian priest speak to me: The more mercy we require, the more we receive.

I spoke to the knives in the kitchen drawer: I need a lot of mercy right now! Patience! Gentleness! Please?

And my child stood in her high chair, reaching her arms out to me.

That was two and a half hours ago. It's amazing what moving through moments, consciously, prayerfully, full of angst is all about.

"Be still and BE."
AMEN.

--
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde,
Visitation Companion