Weekly Links!

~ LINKS TO SOME INTERESTING READING ~ Just a few this time, but they're all really good & meaty ~


-"How to Fix Christian Fiction: More Christianity": I love this so much. YES. Christian fiction is bad when it's generic Nice Literature. More dogma, more drama. Yes, PLEASE.




-"4 Reasons to Soak Yourself in the Psalms": I've been going through the Psalms every month for several years now, and I agree with all of this. I'd add: it sure helps your prayer life. It gives you words to say to God when you have no good words of your own.




-"What's the Point of Sex? It's Communication on a Biological Level" - This is about the intersection of fertility and the immune system, and it's fascinating.




I hope you have a lovely Sunday, full of worship and rest!

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

Weekend links: weather, HELLP, and more

I'm sorry for the lateness of these weekend links! I was overwhelming (in a good way) by Holy Week and all its attendant church services.  But I wish you the very happiest of Easters! Our Lord is risen!

And now, for a few links, for your reading pleasure:

"El Niño Could Grow Into a Monster, New Data Show": important news, especially for those of us who live near the Pacific!

"The Reason for My Lack of Posting Lately": Jen writes about her experience of HELLP Syndrome, in hopes of raising awareness.

"Shop Talk":

“Carve” is the operative word here, not “balance.” It was a difficult life, in which I often realized that although I identified myself as a writer first, that didn’t match the reality. If the baby was crying, he got first attention; if the class needed preparing, that was next. Often the leftover third-energy was just not enough. I call myself a slow writer, but in fact the writing comes pretty fast. It was the getting to it that dogged my teaching days. The rewriting is a long process, but it doesn’t take the same kind of preparedness as early drafts. It’s just work, so I can take it on at once and spend long hours at it.

"A Better Way to Say Sorry":

But what alternative do you have? What else are you supposed to do? It’s not like you can force a genuine apology and repentant heart out of him, right?

"Creeping to the Cross (At Home)": some kind words from one of my former professors.


Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

Saint Francis de Sales' Advice to Expectant Moms

As I was reading St. Francis de Sales' Thy Will Be Done: Letters to Persons in the World, I came across a couple of letters written to pregnant women who wrote to him for advice, troubled by their weakness and tiredness, and how their physical state was hindering their prayers.

His advice was very sweet, and applicable, I think, not just to expectant moms back then - or even just to expectant moms full stop - but to any of us suffering discouragement. He says:

My dearest daughter, we must not be unjust and require from ourselves what is not in ourselves. When troubled in body and health, we must not exact from our souls anything more than acts of submission and the acceptance of our suffering . . . as for exterior actions, we must manage and do them as well as we can, and be satisfied with doing them, even without heart, languidly, and heavily . . . Have patience then with yourself . . . often offer to the eternal glory of our Creator the little creature in whose formation He has willed to make you His fellow worker.

I love that last part. :)  The thought that God has willed to make us fellow workers in the formation of our fellow creatures - that is the true joy of motherhood: sweet, foundational, and undeserved!

He goes on along those lines later in the letter, saying:

My dear daughter, the child who is taking shape in your womb will be a living image of the divine majesty; but while your soul, your strength, and your natural vigor is occupied with this work of pregnancy, it must grow weary and tired, and you cannot at the same time perform your ordinary exercises so actively and so gaily. But suffer lovingly this lassitude and heaviness, in consideration of the honor that God will receive from your work. It is your image that will be placed in the eternal temple of the heavenly Jerusalem, and that will be eternally regarded with pleasure by God, by angels, and by men. The saints will praise God for it, and you also will praise Him when you see it there.

Wow! what thoughts! But it reminds me of Lewis' observation in The Weight of Glory, that you never talk with a mere mortal, that every human being you behold is an eternal creature, destined someday to be a hideous nightmare, or a glorious being you would be tempted to worship could you see it properly . . . there is nothing "mere" about the work of pregnancy, though it is at the same time so work-a-day, so ordinary, and the extraordinary part of it is none of our own doing . . .

In another letter to an expectant mom, St. Francis has this to say:

I beg you to put yourself in the presence of God, and to suffer your pains before Him. Do not keep yourself from complaining; but this should be to Him, in a filial spirit, as a little child to its mother. For if it is done lovingly, there is no danger in complaining, nor in begging cure, nor in changing place, nor in getting ourselves relieved. But do this with love, and with resignation into the arms of the good will of God.

That - now that seems advice for all of life. And this last, which I'm tempted to take as a life motto:

You can only give God what you have . . .

Yes, and should give Him what you have. But He doesn't expect anything else. What you have? that is enough. Because He was already enough anyway.

Enough, and more than enough.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

a bit on fasting and gluttony

I think I mentioned on this blog that I'm looking forward to Lent this year because it's the first Lenten season in a long time that finds me neither pregnant nor nursing, so I can participate in the fasting.

I think I also mentioned that I couldn't figure out how to blog about fasting, given that we're not supposed to trumpet our fasting about. But then I thought: well, why am I excited? Honestly, just because I get to be part of this part of the life of the church again. So, I think that it makes sense for Christians to blog some about fasting. Not to toot their own horns, but just to remember, "hey, this is what we do", emphasis on the we. I wouldn't know anything about fasting if other people hadn't taught me what it is and means, or reminded me that there are times to do it and times not to. One of the biggest things I've learned (and this is so simple, but so important), is that we do it because Christ did it. (And we don't expect ourselves to do it as well as he did it.) In other words, writing about fasting isn't boasting if you write about it in the context of the life of the church. Because it's not "hey, look what I am doing", but it's "I'm reflecting on this thing that we are doing." So, I hope it's okay that I'm blogging about it. (And curious: what do you think? Is fasting a bloggable topic, or am I way off here?)

Anyway, I seemed to recall that it's traditional to fast more strictly on Wednesdays and Fridays. I could figure out the Fridays (in memory of the crucifixion), but couldn't figure out the Wednesdays. But, looking around a bit, I found this article by Frederica Mathewes-Green, and learned that it's because that was the day when Judas betrayed Jesus.

Then I got to reading the rest of the article. Wow, it's good. Good to think about not just going into Lent, but anytime.  And one of the things it talks about is how fasting is just something we're supposed to do pretty regularly, not as earning salvation, and not as earning special favor but just, basically, because it's good for us, like exercising or taking a bath is good for us. 

The other thing that article talks about is gluttony (the fasting part actually comes in as a discipline that can help to curb that vice). Here's a bit from the end:

The law of the jungle is "Eat or be eaten." Indulging in gluttony seems like a private vice, a "cute sin," a matter between only the tempted diner and the eclair. But undisciplined indulgence in the pleasure of food costs us more than we dream: coarsens and darkens our minds, ruins our powers of attention and self-control, of sobriety and vigilance. It hobbles and confuses us. It makes us prey for another Eater.

The one who bids us to His marriage supper will not devour us, in fact he promises to feed us. But there is more; he does not feed us only with the good things he has made, or even the goodness of supernatural food like manna. He feeds us his very self. It is this other bread we must learn to eat, not "bread alone" but the Word of God himself. At the Communion table this becomes, not just theory, but a true encounter—a feast that binds hungry sinners together, and links us to the One who alone can feed our souls.

Isn't that good? Mathewes-Green always is. (Read her!) Anyway, I'm a little intimidated, but over all, I'm looking forward to Lent.

peace of Christ to you,

Jessica Snell

Mind Over Matter and the Master of Matter

You know how something can happen in your life and you don't realize, till years later, what it might have been preparing you for? Why the Lord let it happen to you?

I think I'm having one of those moments; I think I know now, at least in part, why the Lord let me break my both of arms almost three years ago.

A lot of circumstances contributed to me breaking both of my arms at a karate test three years ago, and they weren't all my fault, but at least one of them certainly was: I thought I could do anything, if I only made up my mind to do it. I didn't want to be doing the test I was doing, and so I foolishly decided that the way I would get through the ordeal would be to just duck my head down and power through.

I believed the mantra "mind over matter" and had always had the impression that if I just had enough determination, I could plow right through any physical test that came my way. If I just kept going, I would get through.

Well, my bones didn't agree. I learned that day that while I have the determination to break my own arms by hitting a brick really, really hard, I do not have the power to convince the brick itself that it is softer than my bones. The brick won, my bones lost.

I learned that I might be determined, but my determination is not a match for everything it encounters. I learned that I was smaller, weaker, and more fragile than I thought I was.


That lesson is standing me in good stead now. I still have the urge, looking at this high-risk pregnancy I'm carrying, to think that by sheer determination I can carry these twins to term, I can keep their cords from tangling, I can prevent pre-term labor. I think I really would think that if I hadn't had the experience of breaking both of my arms.

But I don't think that anymore. I know that I cannot change the laws of physics (thank you, Scotty), I cannot reach my hands inside my womb and keep the blood and oxygen from the placenta flowing equally to each baby. I know my limits. I know that while there is a lot I can do to make this a healthy pregnancy, that my body might fail me, and that my babies' bodies might fail them. Our minds do not control matter, not like we wish they would.

But there is one Man who is master over matter, whose feet did not sink when he stepped out onto water, whose speech could make the dead rise, whose very touch convinced diseased flesh to transmute to whole. I cannot reach my hands into my womb and keep my babies' cords from tangling, but He can.

And so I am grateful, finally, for the nightmarish experience of disability that I went through three years ago. It was, maybe, the most dear lesson I have ever had; it cost the most. But I'm not going to ignore it. I'm going to remember that I cannot will my way through obstacles. Instead, I am going to lean on the one who can say "be so" and it is so. I am going to lean on Jesus. He is the Master of Matter. Including the very flesh of my babies and cells making up their cords. By His grace, I will not make the mistake I made before, and hopefully this time will not be about me learning a painful lesson, but rather about Him showing His glory.

Please, Lord Jesus, if it is your will, hold and keep my children safe.

2nd Trimester Blues

I had about one week of delightful bliss, of it not being 108 degrees outside and me not being exhausted from being in the first trimester. I thought: wow, the second trimester ROCKS.

And then I got sick. Ick, ick, ick. I miss the days when Sudafed was considered safe for pregnancy (it's recently been discovered that use of Sudafed can be correlated with certain birth defects. Not a huge risk, but not one I want to take.).

But this evening, after saying goodbye to my husband and son as they went off for their regular Sunday night guy time (my husband and his friends have a weekly Nintendo date, and there are usually toddlers who tag along, 'cause we're some of those odd twenty-somethings who actually have kids), my daughter came over to me, where I was lying on the couch feeling sick and sorry for myself, and brought me "Time of Wonder" by Robert McCloskey, asking me to read it to her. She climbed up on the couch with me and snuggled up. So I started to read it to her.

A few pages in she said, "Don't read it, let's just look at the pictures." So we did. We went through the whole book twice, looking at McCloskey's beautiful paintings of Maine, talking about trees and rocks and boats and storms and rain and little Sal and her sister Jane. And we talked about the next baby that's coming to our family, and whether it's going to be a boy or a girl.

And after two times through the book and about a half hour of cuddling with my little girl, I got up with my headache gone, my heart cheered, and an actual APPETITE.


Which leads me to just one conclusion: the combination of Robert McCloskey and my daughter is better even than the dynamic duo of Sudafed and Tylenol.

Who knew?

peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

"as in the pains of childbirth"

I'm taking a week's break from reading Morning Prayer daily in order to read through the book of Romans (and to just take a break. I figure a vacation from MP will be the sort of vacation that makes me realize, once it's over, how happy I am to be back home). It's the moody time of month, which is annoying (I hate being mad or weepy at every little thing), but today I discovered that though the downside of PMS is that it makes me more sensitive, the upside of PMS is that it makes me more sensitive. Reading Romans 8 this morning, I was tearing up reading over how I'm allowed to call God "Abba, Father" because of Christ's great act of love for us.

Anyway, the other thing I noticed, and not for the first time, is how commonly "the pains of childbirth" or "like the pains of a woman in labor" is used as a metaphor in the scriptures. When I was pregnant, I'd read these words with forboding. Instead of making me think that the tribulation must be pretty horrible if you could compare it to childbirth, I'd sit there thinking that childbirth must be pretty horrible if you could compare it to the tribulation. (And I was right. Ha!)

But, on reading Romans 8 today, and not being pregnant (as far as I know), the idea of creation "groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time" struck me differently. It struck me less as terror-inducing metaphor, and more as kindly explanation. The "pains of childbirth" are - know ye all - really, truly awful. Terrible, horrible, entire body-wrenching pain. And I see how you can compare life in this present world to that and be completely right. I mean, have you read the news recently? Heard about Sudan? the persecution of Christians in North Korea? Closer yet, heard recently of murders, suicide, abuse? Homelessness, cancer? Yes, terrible, horrible, entire-life-consuming pain.

So here's why I find Romans 8:22 a kindly explanation. Because it lets you know that the pain will have a purpose. Yes, it's fallen and messed up that there has to be pain to produce a child. But since we live in a fall and messed up world, it's nice to know - when you're in labor - that the pain is going to have a good result. Given that you're in the middle of it, and that's just so and you don't have any choice at this point but to be in the middle of it, isn't it nice to know the ending? Isn't it hope that lets us endure? It is kind, I think, of Paul, to let us know that it's not going to be pain, pain, pain, death. Or even just pain, pain, pain, pain ad infinitum. (Anyone here every give birth and not, at some point, a) think you were going to die and/or b) think it was never going to end?) No, it is to be pain, pain, pain, life.

And, as we learned in The Princess Bride, "Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."

Paul's not selling something. He's not lying about the pain. He's saying that this world is constantly in pain as bad as a woman in labor, and boy-howdy, that's pain. But he is giving us the hope that the pain is going to be as productive as that of a woman in labor. And, boy-howdy, that's hope. Thanks be to God.

peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell