Count the Cost

Twelve years ago last month I miscarried our first baby, in the twelfth week of my pregnancy. The months that followed taught me many things, but the hardest lessons came on a September weekend. I was angry -- angry that my baby had died, angry that I was still walking around in a fog. My houseplants were all dying and I kept getting lost in my own town. I could not think of my baby, of her tiny perfect ears and the improbably beautiful curve of her ribcage, without suffocating grief, but I couldn't not think about her. On that Saturday I said to God, "No. This is too much and I WILL NOT do it."

The next day's gospel reading: "Before you build a tower, count the cost." I thought about all the times I had offered myself to God, had said, "whatever you ask me, I will do; wherever you lead me, I will go." The gospel was a pointed reminder to me of promises made, and with what felt like a tremendous effort of will I said, "Okay. I was wrong. I will do it. I wish I didn't have to and it hurts me terribly, but I will do it."

This morning in church I was frustrated. My oldest has decided he does not believe in God (he asked if he could re-baptize himself in sand to undo his baptism in water), and for all that I know it is normal to question and God has no grandchildren and he has to own these truths for himself -- for all that I am weary. (There are only so many times a person, or at least this person, can explain that foreknowledge does not imply causation and is compatible with free will before she starts to get exasperated. Arwen? Want a traveling apologetics gig?) My 5yo has been struggling lately with impulsive behavior and blithe refusal to listen, and I am more than ready for him to get past it. I was standing in the pew today, listening to the gospel and feeling like a failure, when Joe said loudly, "But I don't WANT to be next to Petey!"

The priest's voice interrupted my brief daydream, in which I was frog-marching Joe out of church: "Before you build a tower, count the cost."

My first thought was self-pitying: I did not know how much patience and creativity and diligence and plain hard work it would take to raise four sons. I did not know how deep it would go, how adroitly they would push my buttons. We have an unanticipated cost overrun in the construction of this tower, folks.

But quickly I remembered the Sunday twelve years ago when I heard the same gospel and wept over an empty womb and broken hopes. I looked at my boys around me and thought, "This is an embarrassment of riches." I imagined myself complaining to the me of twelve years ago, and it seemed to me that it would be like saying, to someone who had no money for food, something like, "My hedge fund manager isn't answering his cell and I am SO tired of waiting for him."

This obliterated the self-pity but not the discouragement. I still don't know what to do about my 10yo self-proclaimed atheist who yawns exaggeratedly all through Mass. But I looked up at the crucifix and knew what to do next, at least. Eyes front. Chin up. One step at a time.

Comments

[blest]

baptized in sand to undo water... Tell him it has to be FIRE. HA!

Hey - at least he's a creative and independent thinker!

Big HUGS from me to you, my friend!! Hang in there!

[Summer]

I'm counting the cost in both the ways you mentioned. Mothering has been especially challenging for the last few days (even though I've only got one to deal with, and I still have the advantage of size over him), it's been nothing but whines and attitudes and kicks in the face. Literal kicks in the face. Even the holy mother saints wouldn't have liked being kicked in the face, and I'm no saint. But at the same time I am feeling the burden of my unproductive womb, and struggling to accept that part of the meaning of "I will accept the children God sends me" means accepting that there may be no more.

It's hard. But it's still far easier to bear than the pain of losing my first child. I am a mother, and that means I have no choice but to go forward, to cook and clean and care, to persevere.

[Jody]

As someone facing some cost overruns of her own, I appreciate this post. I'm sorry that you needed to write it, but I thank you anyway.

Gemma is an avowed atheist herself these days, but she's only six, so her ability to sustain the conversation is mercifully brief. So that's not really on my list, right now. You have my supportive sympathy, though. It's good that you've raised a thinker -- it seems the ultimate affirmation of your schooling choices. And I do have faith that the Holy Spirit leads us on the journey we're meant to take.

[Arwen]

Whoa. A traveling apologetics gig to a kid who wants to undo his baptism with sand? That sounds like tough stuff.

The whole foreknowledge implying predestination outruling free will question is a big one. I'm not sure Aquinas himself would be able answer that one to your son's satisfaction. I imagine you're explaining it just as well as I could, if not better, too. I'm guessing you've already tried explaining the difference between eternity and time, and how God knows time from outside it and thus knows the future in a different way than the only way we can "know" it - i.e. by planning to take certain actions and having reasonable certainty they will occur. But eternity is such a mystery - I'm still stumped by it myself, frankly - that I dunno how much help that will be.

Is it just the Christian God that he doesn't believe in any more? Or has he declared that there is no supreme being at all? Because atheism is not a religion; it's a philosophical position, and you could go through some proofs of the existence of God with him. There are some good ones at the beginning of the Summa.

I think with a ten-year-old the most effective means of showing him God is just to keep loving him and praying for him. Who knows where he'll be in another ten years?

I'm sorry I can't be of more help. This is a toughie! Keep your chin up, though, and I'll pray for you and Alex.

[Pam]

Thanks for sharing this so much. I am praying for you, but I also want to fall weeping on your neck because you express so well the thoughts I (and many mothers I know) have often....the self-pity, the loss, the cost overruns, the pushed buttons...it's ALL THERE. And somehow it is a balm to know that we are not alone (and not just not alone because Jesus is with us, but not alone because we are with each other).

I wish I could solve the worries and problems, but I can only say, "I can understand something of what you are going through." I empathize.

God bless you and your boys and your readers.

[Tracy]

Yes. My tower's budget is completely in the red. But... I have a tower :-D.

I remember saying this is too much, Lord. I can't do this anymore. Can it really be over 16 years since my first miscarriage? That child would be asking to drive now. Instead, I am having my own struggles with my own lack of patience, etc. But I still wouldn't trade it for anything.

As for the 10 yo - I have no ideas. I haven't had to deal with that one (yet). I'll be praying!

[Renee]

Your son probably knows, but may need reminding, that NOTHING will ever undo his baptism. He is eternally marked as a child of God, and just like he can not undo the fact that you are his mother, he can not undo the fact that God is his Father.

Does he explain why he exists, as far as for what purpose if he doesn't believe in God. Does he think any part of himself is immortal, or does he think he'll be nothing but dust when he dies ? I know he is only 10, but apparently he is pretty sophisticated for his age.

Or is something else his god these days? Seems as if this has been going on since at least June, so I doubt it is a quickly passing stage.

Of course the other option is say nothing and pray your brains out. Let God take care of it, because He certainly can.

Either way, you all are in my prayers.

Blessings!

[gina]

Is it a religion thing? Or is it just that god seems inconvenient right now, stopping him from things he would much rather be doing?

Maybe it's frustration over God answering prayers in his own way and in his own time...maybe he feels he has been patient enough, and needs some tangible proof...

There is a quote...I can't remember it exactly...but it says something like doubt isn't the opposite of faith, it is an element of faith...

Let him believe what he needs to believe right now...
In the meantime, I will be praying for both of you...