This guest post is written by a beautiful, courageous, intelligent, witty and wise-beyond-her-years girl named Natalie. In her words, she is a “Catholic home-schooled 16-year-old who loves St. Pope John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, Jane Austen, books, good coffee, Batman, a good laugh, and pranking her friends!”
As a teen girl growing up in a body-obsessed culture, I can say in all honesty that I have really felt the effects of it. Airbrushed models, celebrities with “perfect bodies,” and weight loss commercials are constantly blared at me from TV, store ads, and billboards. As a young girl viewing this twisted idea of beauty, I now realize, as I reflect, that it has had a great impression on me, and consequently the life of everyone around me. Read More →
six years now. And even with all our know-how, a degree in Theology and Religious Education, teaching religion in our home school co-op, and three kids later, you’d THINK our own family prayer time would be a walk in the park by now. I can lead everyone ELSE’s kids in prayer just fine. Religion class, vacation Bible school, youth retreats – you name it, I’ve done it. But leading our kids in prayer has always been a bit more challenging, if not altogether unholy. Our six year old, the rule-follower, is fine. Angelic, really. Heck, he’s the one actually leading prayers half the time while Trev and I are distracted trying to get the other two kids to just sit down for five seconds. John Paul will be perfectly singing the Salve Regina while Joshua and Clare are launching themselves off the coffee table into the couch or the dog – or better yet, into one of us. Knees first. Unfortunately, the family activity that’s supposed to gather us together, calm our hearts and lead us all to bed in peace, instead leaves Trev and I shaking our heads and wondering if anything we’re doing is really worth it in the end. We sure don’t feel any holier ending the day yelling at everyone to just “Sit still and pray, jeepers!”
When I was growing up older folks often spoke of a “mid-life crisis.” Hitting forty was usually the critical period they had in mind. These days I’ve noticed it hits a lot sooner. Maybe it’s because we live in a “youth culture” that forces the questions of aging and being successful a lot quicker. Maybe it’s just the stress. But these days, there’s just something about the mid-thirties that hits a lot of folks. I was no exception. My mid-thirties were difficult years for me—years filled with anxiety and self-doubt.