Thursday, March 2, 2017

And so the fierce battle begins....

The battle is real, it is hard, it is every day. What is it I am speaking of.... Why of course, the battle of keeping a house clean when you have children.

With our house on the market now, it seems I might have to keep the house always clean. If I look at the positive, I have never had a more compelling reason to make sure my house is so presentable. Not saying I wouldn't like it always to be beautiful, but I am just sometimes tired of fighting the battle of mountain laundry, splattery cooking, slippery muddy floors, garbage collecting (boys treasures they find), and so on. There are many different battles in the fight of keeping a house.

Now I am suppose to keep the house clean so that prospective buyers can see it for its charm. Whew! Please Saint Joseph, help us sell this cute little farm quickly! If you by happen chance read this, please pray for us to sell our house to the right person, at the right time, for the right price.

God bless!

P.S. It would be even more awesome if you could add that I keep sane as we try to keep the house presentable:')
The day we bought our little farm.

Back pasture and the barn.

Our three original Nigerian Dwarf does.

The barn has been a huge blessing to us.

Backyard

Such a cute place!

The front. Now there is a fence and gate over the drive.

Garage

The inside of the barn. It looks a bit different now.

Behind the garage. There is a cloths line and the fence is gone from this spot.

Front pasture

Fond memories, Franz mowed a track to bike on around the back pasture.

Breaking ground for our first garden.


 

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Let's Party!

We are party central at Kleinshire. Two boys with birthdays back to back and triplet goats born too! Whew, some days you just have to keep the party going strong.

Chrysogonus turned two on Wednesday February 8th. After doing school work early in the morning, we spent almost the rest of the day outside. We did have to run and return something to Walmart. So, while there I let Chrysogonus pick out his present. Of course it was a gun and lightsaber. I started regretting the lightsaber, as it makes noise and lights up. Chrysogonus pretty much non-stop kept pressing the button. I got a big thing of bubbles, and found a brownie cake for 4 dollars. The cakes sell by date was February 8th. I had planned on making a cake, but rationalized that I would make one the next day for Cletus's birthday. On my way home from Walmart I picked up a young lady who comes and helps me once a week or so with animals and barn chores. The day was absolutely beautiful! Chrysogonus did not take a nap after lunch like he is suppose to. I gave Cletus and Chrysogonus the big bottle of bubbles. Both boys were getting overly tired. They got some use out of blowing bubbles, before a fight broke out and the bottle got knocked over. Oh well. I really didn't mind as it was on the screen porch. It is an easy way to mop the deck, pour a bucket of water and "tada" kids think it is fun to slip and slide on. While I was doing the last of the animal chores I let the boys sit down and watch the "magic school bus." Apparently the boys were exhausted as the three youngest were asleep on the couch when Franz got home. Because we all had worked up an appetite, we necessarily agreed the birthday boy needed to be awoken. Cake and ice cream were on the menu, but could not be touched without the presence of the birthday boy. I held Chrysogonus till he was fully awake. Then we had cake and ice cream to every ones relief and enjoyment. Thus ended the first birthday of the week for us.

Next day February 9th, Cletus turned four. Boy he was excited as we had talked about it being his birthday next. The day before seeing Chrysogonus's presents and cake, made Cletus anticipation high. Cletus woke up early like he usually does. It does not matter how late he goes to bed. Like the day before we did school work early. I got a text with a picture of a sweet baby girl. My newest niece was born to my baby brother and his wife. She was born February 8th right before midnight. It seems this is a good time for babies:') I was constantly going out to the barn because Brownie our goat was due, and she was in early labor. It was really windy Thursday so the boys stayed in the house for most of the day. They would come out occasionally to check Brownie with me. So, time spent inside was, nerf gun wars, forts, building bridges and towers, flying from bunk beds and shelves unto the love seat in the boys room, and a LOT of BATTLES. Seriously, the boys were enjoying their wars. In the late afternoon I made Cletus's cake and put it in the oven to bake. I went out to the barn to check Brownie. I was getting anxious as she had been uncomfortable all day. Immediately I knew the real action of birthing was taking place, as she had a mucus string hanging. Sorry if this offends anyone, but this is a part of farm life. So, I had Cyprian run back in and get me clean rags and my phone. Just after five Brownie pushed the first kid (a buckling) out. Brownie was not extremely large looking during her pregnancy, so were anticipating a single, or maybe twins. Then she pushed out a small doeling. Done I thought, but no. Brownie then pushed out the biggest of the triplets, a huge doeling. Whew! After clearing their faces, I let Brownie do her mothering. Cletus will get to name at least one of the kids as they were born on his birthday. That evening after all the animal chores and settling, we had Cletus's birthday supper, cake, and ice cream. It was nine or so when we got the boys in bed.

This has been a week of partying!
We have attitude!
Playing hard all day on your birthday, makes a tire boy.
Don't worry we couldn't let Chrysogonus sleep through having cake and ice cream. He seems to agree!
Blow out those two candles!


Who wants cake!

Look at the force!

Seriously, watch out!

Come on it is another cake!

Brownie the proud mama of triplets.

Left: 1st born buckling. Middle: 3rd born large doeling. Right: 2nd born little spunky doeling.


Cletus is very excited to hunt. Especially his brothers:')




Monday, January 30, 2017

Where to start

2016 ended and so did a tough year. Most know of my three miscarriages, but I miscarried a fourth time two days before Christmas. Caspar Marion Klein is the name I gave my last miscarried baby. I waited to name Caspar till the Epiphany and so hence part of the name. All of us were very sick Christmas through the New Year. I was put on antibiotics, which anyone who knows me well, knows it takes a lot for me to take medicine.

2017 has already seen a month through. Still tough times. Though I feel we are past a rough spot personally. I feel like there are so many struggling. Sometimes I would just rather hide my computer, cell phone, radio, and the television. I do get some enjoyment out these devices, but lately they seem to spread negativity like a wild fire running on a land of drought.

PEOPLE, why are we not turning to GOD! Look to God for guidance, comfort, peace, and most of all a shower of LOVE. I am thanking God for my simple blessing in living a family life. My life which brings me, laughs, tears, rants, and rare and precious moments of peace.

It is another day here at Kleinshire. I woke up early with my husband. Franz got up right away (like he usually does), but I lingered in bed (like I usually do) and said my morning prayers. It may seem like cheating, because I am still in bed while praying. For me I find I am relaxed and not distracted by anything else. I love my morning prayer time as I snuggle under my covers. Then I get up whether I feel ready or not to start the day...

Just before 6 am I popped out the door to head to the barn. Franz is usually a few minutes ahead of me (this morning was no exception) and had already started feeding animals. My job is to milk and feed the dairy goats. Franz does all the other animals, feed, hay, and water. Sometimes Franz finishes before me, other times we head into the house together. Today he was ahead of me.

Once in the house, I put the milk in the fridge. Franz went and took a shower and got ready for work. I packed a lunch for Franz, made a pot of coffee, and breakfast for those up. Usually Chrysogonus and Cletus are up and eat breakfast with Franz and me. Which was the case this morning.

After blessing our food, Franz ate a quick breakfast. Then he kissed each boy, and me with a "I love you." Off he went to battle dragons, as he tells the boys.

The two younger boys and I finished breakfast. Cyprian and Clement finally awoke, took showers, then came and ate their breakfast. I needed to clean chicken feet for making stock. I detest this job. If it weren't for the awesome product that comes from simmering chicken feet with veggies in water for at least 24 hours, I would happily toss the feet to the dogs.

So, I proceeded to clean, boil, peel, rinse with vinegar, then throw into my huge pot to simmer, 28 chicken feet. Cyprian and Clement meanwhile worked on math. Okay, honestly I kept having to badger them to stay on task. Between Cletus and Chrysogonus interrupting, playing, and wreaking havoc, it took us all morning to finish the chicken feet, math, play making forts, having lego wars, and folding and sorting laundry. I won't lie, sometimes I hollered at my boys...

Finally, we were able to have lunch a little after noon. We ate leftover pizza from Cyprian's Birthday supper last night. Then while Cyprian was left to watch boys, I went and took down a load of laundry and hung another. Which reminds me I have yet another sitting in the washer at this moment needing to be hung. Anyway, I went and checked on animals.

Then I came into the house and Cyprian who got a real little tea set for his birthday, and was dying to use it, got me to agree to let him make tea for his brothers. The boys and me like to have tea time. It is one of the things I took from the Charlotte Mason teaching style. I boiled water and steeped the raspberry leaf tea in my big pot. Then we poured tea into Cyprian's little tea pot. Cyprian commenced pouring tea repeatedly for his younger thirsty brothers. After enjoying the many little cups of tea and some organic annie's graham crackers, it was time for quiet.

So, after changing Chrysogonus and then tucking him into his bed. I settled on the love seat in the boys room with the three other boys tucked around me. We read from one of my favorite books, a Wonder Book. I may not talk a lot, but we have plenty to do. The quote below from our story seemed suitable.

"A good man should talk little and do much." Taken from Wonder Books, The Princess on The Glass Hill

Here is our tea time!


Thursday, December 22, 2016

Christmas Letter, 2016

December, 2016

Dear family and friends,

Every day during this season of Advent, Cyprian, Clement, Cletus, and Chrysogonus eagerly take out the crayons and construction paper to make new ornaments for their Jesse Tree. And each week, they look forward to lighting another candle on the wreath. Forgetting for a moment the endless scraps of construction paper, the messy piles of crayons, and the squabbles over whose ornament is better and who stole what from whom; taking a deep breath after the youngest is found in the vicinity of the wreath striking matches; in sum, embracing the crazy imperfection of family life: This is the spirit of Advent as it exists in the Klein household. Prayers for you and yours, that you are also able to mark this special season in your own home, crazy or quiet, as the case may be.

Family Picture, from Cyprian's First Holy Communion in May

This year we’ve managed, for our part, the monumental task of keeping the house from burning down. More seriously, it’s been a year with its share of difficulties, especially with Rosemary suffering through three miscarriages. We now have four little ones living in God’s embrace: Cosmas James, Anastasia May, Andrew Joseph, and Agatha June. For all the struggles, though, it has also been a year filled with God’s blessings: Franz is still teaching and coaching at St. Thomas More Academy, where this fall his boys’ cross country team was the private schools state runner-up, and Rosemary oversees our own Little Flowers Homeschool, where both Cyprian and Clement are now tackling schoolwork in earnest. This May marked Cyprian’s First Holy Communion, and both Clement and Cletus are attending a Montessori “Good Shepherd” catechesis program. Chrysogonus has an ever-increasing vocabulary and an impetuous laugh. In the midst of it all, Rosemary finally earned her Taekwondo black belt in September after working at it determinedly during the past three years that we’ve called North Carolina home.

Busy as all that sounds, it won’t compare to the coming year. Many of you already know our news--that we are moving back to Wisconsin. Four years in Texas and four in North Carolina, and now we’re coming home to our beloved home state, only three miles from the rented farmhouse from which we left  back in 2009 with an overloaded Ford Taurus hauling a construction trailer. Specifically, we will be moving to the Korish homestead near Cashton, St. Jude’s Acres, with Rosemary’s parents building a brand new house on a small parcel of land that they carved off for themselves. The big move will occur in just a few months, at Easter. Then Franz will return to North Carolina to finish up the school year and, with God’s help, sell the house in time to return for the spring planting season.

It’s a big transition not just in terms of geography but also occupation, as we are planning to start farming in earnest. This past summer Franz was back in Wisconsin fencing a pasture for our growing herd of meat goats (who will make the trip from North Carolina to Wisconsin in a 16-ft. livestock trailer that we purchased). Then in late October Rosemary flew back to Wisconsin, with Cletus and Chrysogonus in tow, to plant our first crop of garlic. We will file the application for organic certification at the beginning of the new year, and, God willing, this spring a good portion of the tillable acreage will be planted with some sort of crop to sell to Organic Valley. We are also considering the possibility of raising Thanksgiving turkeys, selling produce in La Crosse CSA-style, etc. Really, we’re open to anything that provides an income stream.

Prayers are definitely appreciated as we make this transition. We know that the first year will be very difficult financially, as at first the goats and the garlic are break-even propositions at best. We are realistic enough to know that farming won’t pay all the bills, especially at first. But we also know that Franz holding a full-time job would make running a full-time farming operation nearly impossible. So, pray that we make the right decisions in considering the range of possibilities--adjunct teaching, freelance writing for Franz, which both worked well during our time in Dallas; possibly a return to nursing work for Rosemary; really, anything that the Lord might provide. Pray, too, that the means become available to purchase a tractor, a cultivator, and haying equipment. Please, pray that we don’t become discouraged in what is sure to be a challenging first few years.

We send this letter with a promise of prayers for you and yours during this time of preparation for Christmas. We look forward to reconnecting with many of you with the move back to Wisconsin. As was the case when we left Dallas, we are again sad to leave behind so many dear friends. We will always treasure you in our hearts. Please stay in touch!

God Bless,

Franz, Rosemary, Cyprian, Clement, Cletus, and Chrysogonus

Chrysogonus' first birthday

Cyprian after First Holy Communion with Fr. Phil Tighe, our pastor, who has since become vocations director

Praying for vocations at Compline, with the traveling chalice from our parish

Fresh fish from Crooked Creek, a half mile walk down Cheves Rd.
Rosemary's first-ever fish. Really!


Cyprian at the 4-County 4-H Livestock Show this fall with one of our young meat goats


St. Thomas More Academy, CIC Conference Champions (boys & girls), NCISAA state runners-up (boys)

A bountiful harvest from our garden this year.

All the veggies we can eat.

Our beloved Cardinal Burke visited St. Catherine's in Wake Forest last December.
Some of our dairy goats enjoying the front pasture.
We had all the pork we could eat this past year.  
Cyprian putting his 4-H premium to good use, investing in one of the batches of meat chickens we raised.


Rosemary, after years of effort, finally earned her first-degree black belt in Taekwondo. 


Boys and fireworks: an explosive combination.

Chrysogonus checking out his haircut after losing his baby curls.

Fun at the N.C. State Fair


Christmas cookies!


Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Black belt



September 17th, 2016, I tested for my black belt. One requirement was writing a essay about my journey....


My Martial Arts, Journey
By: Rosemary Klein

First, I come from what would be considered a large family. I have five brothers and five sisters, and I am the ninth child of eleven. As fortune would have it, I was born in the middle of three of my brothers. Two came right before me, and my baby brother after me. As a young girl I was very much a sidekick to my brothers schemes and adventures, although to some I might have seemed like a quiet shy and reserved child. If you were to see me in my comfort zone, I would, have been a competitive scrapper and determined not to be left behind. Being a younger child I was also sassy, even if my older siblings were the bosses. For me being a part of a large family taught me many things I still use to this day.

It began in the fall of 2003. My baby sister dragged me and two of my older sisters to a TaeKwonDo class. It was held in a little Christian school near Viroqua WI. When we arrived there were just two people: the instructor and his faithful brown belt student. I recall the instructor looking at my long sleeve shirt and saying, “you are going to lose that long sleeve shirt.” He meant that I would not want to have such heavy clothing, he was right because he worked us until we felt we couldn’t possibly do one more thing.

From that first class to the last class I was pushed. I had a love/hate relationship with my instructor and class. Through the sweat, bruises, and one time a broken toe and another time black eye, I was never let to give up. I was pushed over and over. It was a good thing, as it kept me out of trouble and taught me some values that I still hold dear. The class was not formal in that we were not required to wear a uniform. We had to wear appropriate workout attire and our belts, bowing and showing respect to rank was highly stressed. It was not traditional TaeKwonDo; I would call it more of a mixed martial arts. There was the definite TaeKwonDo aspect with Korean terminology, but also a strong focus on Hapkido (self defense, grabs, knives etc.). Ground work was incorporated, together with Jiu Jitsu (learning to defend yourself from on the ground, wrestling), and even sometimes on the side working with sticks. That first fall I started TaeKwonDo, in December the brown belt tested for his black belt. My sister and baby brother and I were at the testing and helped where we could. It was intense. The instructor did not stop the test until the brown belt had given his all. The next year the new black belt gradually became our Instructor.  

The year 2008, I got married in May to my honey. I ended up becoming pregnant right away. Although I was supposed to test for my Brown belt I decided to wait to test as I was nervous about my first pregnancy. I continued to go to class throughout my pregnancy. My first instructor would come when he could. Otherwise, the first degree black belt taught the class. I had my wonderful firstborn son in January of 2009. After a bit of a rough recovery I went back to class. Throughout my six years with this class, there were many who started. But when I stopped I was the only one including from my family who had stuck with it.

The fall of 2009 my husband and I made a big move to Texas. My husband was going to school for his doctorate at the University of Dallas. For the next four years we lived in Texas, my husband working hard to support us while also going to school full time. I was a Stay-at-home mom with Cyprian our son. Eventually we had two more sons, Clement and Cletus, in that four-year period. At one point I joined a gym and did some training with a street fighter because I had been missing my TaeKwonDo. I kept telling myself I was going to get back to it and get my black belt. I have many fond memories of our time in Texas, but I still missed martial arts.  

The summer of 2013 saw us move to Wake Forest NC. My husband landed a great job as a teacher in Raleigh. In the fall some friends told us about the TaeKwonDo class held through Wake Forest Recreation. So, the beginning of October 2013 I attended my first class. At that time there were two classes, beginner and advanced. The beginner class was all kids, and I felt a bit funny working with all the “young-uns.” I was able to catch on quickly because of my previous experience, but I will say my patience was tested. Having to answer to someone younger than you is humbling. I also fought the indignation I felt at starting back at a white belt. Yes, I have pride, and sometimes it is a good lesson to have it checked. Having to wear a uniform was also a change. But I came to realize the uniform gives us solidarity.

Master Ray was always welcoming, and Mrs. Felton very kind and helpful. I was quickly allowed to attend both classes back-to-back. I tested for my first belt in Sun Yi’s Academy in November 2013. April 2014 I attended my first ever martial art tournament. It was fun, and I wouldn’t mind doing so again in the future. I tested every testing after that except one I had to skip for having my fourth son in February 2015.

I went back to class in March 2015. It was after my second class back from giving birth to my fourth son Chrysogonus that a very serious and frightening accident happened. I was bringing my four week old son with me to class. A sweet grandma to one of the students kindly offered to hold my son during class. It was after class that I had just finished nursing my son. A father to four boys, two of them students at the time, asked to hold my son. I handed him my baby. What happened was an accident, but to this day I still sometimes have nightmares. A few minutes after holding Chrysogonus the man dropped him. Chrysogonus landed on his forehead on the hardwood floor. My wonderful friend and fellow student from TaeKwonDo considerately drove me and my son to the emergency room. It was discovered that Chrysogonus did in fact have a fractured skull, and it was a harrowing night.

Chrysogonus since has recovered well, and is an enjoyable amazing little mischievous man. The reason I am sharing this is that it made me almost quit TaeKwonDo. I fell apart from the stress and worry of what happened. By the grace of God and support of so many loving people in my life, especially my husband and family, I was able to come back a month later. Though I was back in class it took me several months to not have overwhelming recurring bad memories. Then November of 2015 I tested for my black-with white-stripe belt.

All in all through the ups and downs of what we call life, I have been so thankful to have martial arts as a part of my life. It is a beautiful feeling when you know you did something well. I still have much to learn and that in-and-of-itself is the beauty of practicing martial arts. It does not ever get old. It has been a journey with some very tough challenges, but also great rewards. I am not planning on stopping the journey, but hoping and striving to fulfill a long time dream of proudly wearing a black belt. This includes living the tenets, courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit.

I have many people to thank for my journey: My husband, who truly is my rock and whom I love more than I can ever put into words;  my awesome four boys, who fill my days with love, laughs, craziness, and tears; all of my family, Dad, Mom, my siblings, and extended family who made me a fighter (in a good way) early on;  my instructors Mr. Hanson, Mr. Lamb, Mr. Ray, Mrs. Felton and Master Berger for all their time, effort, and instruction, because each Instructor has given me something that I will carry with me through life; my friends who have encouraged and watched my boys, helping me in my pursuit of Martial arts; all the students who I have worked alongside and with; Grand Master Sun Yi for giving us a Martial art family; and most of all God for giving me the ability and will to work for this moment.

Here is a link, if it works, of parts from my black belt test. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXlalMMvCFs
Shortly before leaving to go to my black belt test.

My official black belt with my name on it:')

Sunday, November 6, 2016

Why Rosemary and I will be voting for neither Clinton nor Trump

I don't think that Rosemary and I would be revealing anything new to most of you with the observation that, for faithful Catholics, this year's presidential election is something of a moral quandary. Perhaps Archbishop Charles Chaput of Philadelphia put it best, citing the words of a friend of his, that this year's choices are either a "vulgar, boorish lout and disrespecter of women, or a scheming, robotic liar with a lifelong appetite for power and an entourage riddled with anti-Catholic bigots."
Rosemary and I attending a McCain rally in La Crosse in 2008 during
a happier election cycle, when we believed in a candidate enough
to be enthusiastic about his candidacy.

Indeed, both Rosemary's and my Facebook news feeds are increasingly filled with comments and article "shares" from friends who've come to wildly varying conclusions. For various reasons, some are voting for Trump, others for Clinton, and still others for one of the plethora of third-party candidates. Still others have prayed long and hard about the matter and have concluded that they will not vote for anybody at all--including me and Rosemary.

Why a whole blog post to explain what turns out to be a non-endorsement? Well, it came down to the sting of an email that both of us received last night. The sender of this email claimed that a priest had said from the pulpit that, in a situation like the present presidential election, a Catholic has the moral duty to vote for the "lesser of the two evils." 

The priest's words--if indeed they were really said as reported--stung for couple of reasons. The first is the directness of the priest's comments, as there is no doubt from the context that he was saying that a good Catholic must vote for Trump, leaving little room for such conscientious objectors like me and Rosemary. Does that make us unfaithful Catholics? Sinners and imperfect in more ways than we can count, most certainly; me and Rosemary unfaithful Catholics, most certainly not. But the second reason is even more fundamental: it is utterly false that a Catholic ever, in any circumstance whatsoever, has the moral duty to commit, or even to participate in, an evil action, no matter how the lesser evil stands in relation to another possible greater evil.

The example that I use in the philosophy class that I teach often involves a hostage situation--certainly a familiar trope from any number of action thrillers--where the hostage taker, with his hand on the detonator, threatens to blow up a building with a large number of people in it unless you kill just a single individual. The death of a single person, of course, is the lesser of the two evils, and one could easily make the argument that killing that single individual would be a vastly better outcome than the death of all the people in that building. 

If my students object--rightly, I might add--that they would never pull the trigger, then I make the example more extreme: What if that one person whom you kill to save all those people is himself a seasoned criminal, perhaps even a despotic dictator like Josef Stalin or a mass murderer like Ted Bundy? What if there are a hundred people in that building, including members of your own family? What if there are a thousand people in that building? Or a hundred thousand? As much as our instinct is to pull the trigger, the Catholic Church has never taught that one is morally obligated to commit any evil, no matter the proportion of good that could come of it. The ends do not justify the means. Sure, the Church in plenty of magisterial documents speaks of the toleration of a lesser evil, but never of the commission of that evil. 

What does this mean in regard to the presidential election? The implication is that, translating Archbishop Chaput into softer language, both Trump and Clinton are poor choices, and both have significant liabilities that could result in evils in which, by our vote for either one, we could become complicit. For Clinton, one could go on and on about everything from her intention to stack the Supreme Court to protect Roe versus Wade to her clearly stated intention to further limit religious freedoms. For Trump, there is his oft-repeated promise to "deport them all" with no respect to families or lives already built in this country, or his alarming foreign policy that may or may not involve the use of U.S. firepower in ways that would bring about the deaths of many thousands of innocents in the Middle East and that could earn us animosity and lead to further terrorist attacks. Further in regard to Trump, a vote in his favor may make one complicit in any number of the terrible things his clearly impulsive nature may very well bring about if he is granted executive power.

Of course, the immediate response of any one of our friends voting for Trump--or even for Clinton simply to keep Trump out of office--is that they intend the potential good that their respective candidate may bring about, not the potential evil.

That's precisely why the "lesser of two evils" argument is such an unCatholic way to think of it. The Catholic who is struggling with these two very poor choices--and who, apart from guileless campaign operatives, does not describe them otherwise--is the "principle of double effect." This is the principle--to use another example from my philosophy class--that permits life-saving medical treatment for a pregnant mother even when it may be harmful, or even deadly, to her unborn child. The idea is that the treatment is carried out with the intention of saving the mother's life, not with the intention of terminating the unborn child's life. For this reason, treatments that directly attack the unborn child--for example, the use of the powerful chemical methotrexate to dissolve a living embryo implanted in a woman's fallopian tube instead of in her uterus--would not be permitted because the death of the child would become the primary, rather than the unintended secondary, effect.

This is not just a matter of semantics. Yes, the doctor knows that he is indirectly bringing about the death of the unborn child through his actions, say in starting chemotherapy treatment in favor of the mother, but he winces, and he dreads the decision that he has to make, doing his best, if his conscience is sensitive, to focus on the good that he directly intends and effects, and that is at least proportionately as great, one hopes even greater, than the bad.

This act of weighing primary versus secondary effects has to be the way that any Catholic who chooses either Trump or Clinton thinks about the matter. Does Trump's likely vastly superior pro-life selection for the Supreme Court outweigh the further carnage he may bring about in the Middle East, or does it outweigh the way that he is going to tear lives apart if he is successful in deporting millions of people who've formed productive, stable lives here in the U.S.? Conversely, does the fact that Clinton can only do so much to destroy the moral fiber of our country in four short years through her Foundation cronyism and vigorous support of Planned Parenthood's agenda outweigh the secondary, unintended, entirely regrettable effect of her Supreme Court pick--or maybe even picks, given the ages of some of the justices--who will legislate from the bench for decades in furthering the progressive, secularist agenda?

Surely this is the way our serious-minded friends, regardless of their political bent, are thinking about their unpalatable choices this year. Put metaphorically, they're holding their noses and closing their eyes to the secondary effect, just like the doctor does in starting chemotherapy to save the life of the mother.

And far be it from me and Rosemary to condemn these noble efforts. They are not like the action thriller hero who ends up directly committing the smaller evil action of shooting the despotic dictator to prevent the greater evil of the deaths of a building full of thousands of innocents. The ends don't justify the means, and shame on any priest who implies that they do. Rather, our serious-minded friends who end up pulling the lever for Trump or Clinton--well, perhaps more the former than the latter, but that's the topic for another post--are like the doctor who starts chemotherapy--or rather, like the mother who okays it in order to save her own life. They do not intend the evil that their candidate may do, but for whatever reason they find the potential good to outweigh the potential bad, and they choose the former and close their eyes and hold their noses towards the latter.

But in my philosophy class, I also distinguish between ordinary and heroic virtue. Specifically, I bring up the example of St. Gianna Beretta Molla, the 20th century Italian mother and physician who declined live-saving cancer treatment in order to save the life of her unborn child. It's no accident, as I reflect on this example, that my Facebook news feed includes pictures of a few friends who recently spent time with the very child who owes her life to the heroic choice of her mother. Certainly the Catholic Church did not require St. Gianna to refrain from undergoing chemotherapy. Certainly she could have focused on the primary effect of saving her own life, and there would have been nothing morally culpable or blameworthy in that choice, even if saving her own life sadly led to the death of her unborn daughter.

Likewise, far be it from us to disrespect the choice of one friend, for example, who said that he is voting for Trump in order to keep Clinton from being elected, because he knows that if Clinton is elected she will change the Supreme Court in such a way that Roe vs. Wade will not be overturned in our lifetime. But for our own part, we cannot look at Trump, that vulgar, inconstant, boorish lout, that disrespecter of human dignity feminine or otherwise, who may or may not do what he says, depending how much time he's spent on Twitter, and give him our seal of approval.

Likewise, we are far from disrespecting the choice of another friend, who will be voting for Trump in North Carolina in order to keep the electoral college balanced between Trump and Clinton, and who is hoping that Utah will go for Evan McMullin, in order to force the 12th amendment into play when neither majority-party candidate receives 270 electoral votes. Nor do we disrespect the forward-looking choice of another friend to vote for Jill Stein in the hopes that a third-party candidate will break the 5-percent popular vote minimum for federal funding in the next presidential election. But for our own part, in the first instance the likelihood is far too low and its occurrence may even incite violence, and in the second instance the potential good of a third-party bringing about reform just isn't commensurate to the resulting evil.

For me and Rosemary, we simply can't do it. Don't get me wrong--we're not professing to be morally superior people, or to be possessors of heroic virtue of the likes of St. Gianna. But we will stand our ground against the sting of the priest's supposed comments. First of all, our position is carefully thought out and prayed about, and any priest worth his salt, any Catholic layperson of prayer, would be willing to accept and respect our conscientious choice. And secondly, our choice not to signal our support for either vastly imperfect candidate and his/her problematic agenda is well within the Catholic tradition--ramifications (i.e., the election of the worst of two terrible candidates) be damned. We will do our part, and we'll let God figure out the rest.




Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Hill Ridge Farm

So we started school on Monday. After just two days of doing school, we decided that it was time for an outing. Yep, that is right: one of the home school bonuses. You can be flexible with your schedule and work out some fun days when the mood strikes.

My eldest two have been to Hill Ridge Farm with friends before. For me and the youngest two it was a new adventure. Now, normally we would not go to something like a theme park farm. In part this is because of the cost. In part, the fact is that we already live on a farm, and we can go to parks with slides and swings for free.

But I will admit that we had a glorious time from kiddos figuring out how to get through a maze, to feeding the large catfish, turtles, and ducks in the pond. My boys weren't really interested in the goats and rabbits (apparently they are too used to seeing them at home:'). Then there was playing in the corn house (which is a house filled with over a foot of loose corn). It is amazing how much time was spent throughout our stay in the corn house. The boys loved burying each other, making a monster pile, and just swimming in corn. Then there was sliding down a long plastic tube in the side of a hill siting on a piece of burlap sack. The tubing for the slide is corrugated, so as you zoomed down squealing there is a vibrating echo. I know this experience from growing up. But now I was the only grown up using the excuse of having to go down the long slide with a kiddo. I am so totally a kid at heart. One bonus of being heavier is that you definitely go faster! Next the kids hit the bouncing pillow. This is one large blow up bounce pad. The splash pad was a great way to cool off.

Then the friends that we had come with needed to leave. But my boys were not ready to leave. So we headed to the hay house. Each boy got on a hay mound and then proceeded to wage war on each other. The boys then hit the long tube swing. At one point we had all of us on the long straight tube swing. I sat astride holding onto Chrysogonus. We had it going, I think, as fast and high as it can go. We were definitely getting some stares. The older three boys enjoyed sliding down the blow up water slide. Cyprian took Cletus with him on the tube slide and water slide. Cyprian would wrap his arm around Cletus and say, "Go!" Part of Cyprian's enthusiasm stemmed from realizing that the heavier you are the faster you go. Still, it was really quite sweet to see the two smiling and giggling as they raced down. After numerous bathroom breaks and eating all kinds of snacks that I thankfully had packed, I decided that it was getting to be time to leave. We ended up going through everything again just to get one more thrill. And after bouncing in the barn house and going through maze backwards (well, at least Cletus did), reluctantly the boys and I made our exit.

Last of all, I proudly gathered the boys together and set them up for a photo to commemorate our day. This was no easy feat. Cyprian was the only one tall enough to reach the hole. I put Chrysogonus standing on his stroller (I kept having to convince him to stay up). Both Clement and Cletus had to be hung several times to reach the hole.

So here you have it, folks: The foursome Kleins after their glorious day at Hill Ridge Farm, in a sequence of photos that demonstrates well how hard it is to take a picture with four little boys. I would have joined the photo and become the pig, but alas there was no one around to take the picture:')