Review: Little Sins Mean a Lot

little sinsFull disclosure: I knew I wanted this book , Little Sins Mean a Lot by Elizabeth Scalia since last year, so to say I have been looking forward to its publication so I could inhale it chapter after chapter is a bit of an understatement. This is the kind of book that I want to gobble up greedily like the giant bowl of ice cream prepared after the kids were asleep and the husband was engrossed in the football game. Swallowed up and finished quickly and leaving no evidence…until chapter 4 convicted me of my own little sin of over-indulgence. And chapter 5 waggled its finger at me for gossiping. And chapter 8 punished me with my own snarky judgmentalism (is that a word? Nah, I don’t think so).

The book became an examination of conscience — and folks, it slows you down when you start doing an examen like this.

On the upside, I went to confession, so that’s a win.

I knew I’d love the book because I’ve loved Scalia’s writing for many years. If you haven’t read Strange Gods…what’s wrong with you? Get on it!

And then, of course, there’s this one, Little Sins Mean a Lot: Kicking Our Bad Habits Before they Kick Us. In this collection of essays reflecting on the little things we do that pick away at us and lead us down the path of sin, Scalia reflects on her life and how these habits have taken hold of her. It’s not an exposé, and certainly not a holier-than-thou parade of how she has overcome these sinful habits, but rather, an authentic sharing of how she, we are all a mess in varying degrees, and boy could we use some strategies to change these behaviors.

That’s what I love about this book, the strategies. Every chapter talks about the bad habit-becoming-sin, gives a marvelous and eclectic selection of sources that explain the Church’s position on the sin (of course scripture and the Catechism, but so much more), and then offers some advice on actionable steps we can take to overcome this habit, because it is a habit, this concupiscence. Finally, she calls us to prayer — how else can we find the strength to overcome these sins?

In the front matter, before the table of contents, is nestled a pair of quotations that delight me, but then again, I’m a fan of both women :

Don’t let your sins turn into bad habits. — St. Teresa of Avila

Don’t let your bad habits turn into sins. — Elizabeth Scalia

There’s no denying the causal relationship of habits and sin. But there’s also no need to get so jacked up about it that we despair. This book recommends the strategies, sure, but also offers hope in gems like this:

… if we would only invite [God] in, he would come. And then, where God is, what has been empty becomes full; what has been dark becomes light; what has been plundered can be made whole.

There’s hope in that. God wants so much more for us than the small ways we sell ourselves short.

 

Little Sins Mean a Lot: Kicking Our Bad Habits Before They Kick Us
by Elizabeth Scalia
published by Our Sunday Visitor

 

 

 

the Sacred Heart and my breaking heart

sacredheart
A year ago, almost to the day, on the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I sat in a little church off the main road to nowhere on the Gulf of Mexico, and had a deep conversion.

I’m not one to say the words, “Jesus spoke to me” or “the Holy Spirit prompted me” but rather, I feel a sense of peace and consolation when I believe my actions are reflective of the Lord’s will in my life. It’s taken me a lifetime to get to this place, believe me. If nothing else, St. Teresa’s words below have given me the strength to move forward, instead of looking at the past and the mistakes I’ve made on this journey:

“To reach something good it is very useful to have gone astray, and thus acquire experience.” St. Teresa of Avila

I don’t recommend this route to holiness to everyone. In fact, it’s usually easier to get it right the first time, but St. Teresa was a bit of a screw-up early on, and look at what a badass saint she became, so I’m in good company — saintly company. If that doesn’t give me hope, I don’t know what could.

So last year, I was in the midst of a personal crisis. Not a crisis of faith, but rather, a crisis of vocation, both in terms of employment, and more importantly, as a wife. I had reached that point in mid-life when, I suppose, people have the kind of breakdown that makes them buy Ferraris. Red ones. You know what I mean.

I bought a waterfront piece of property and decided to quit my job.

Wait for it….

Jesus made me do it.

I’d give the hairy eyeball to any one of my friends who came out and made such a wild statement. What? God is telling you to quit your job and drop a load of money you don’t really have on a move to another state? Now? With an ill husband?

I’m telling you, Jesus said do it. So I did. Well, we did. My husband and I.

You see, when we were first married almost 31 years ago, actually, years before we were married, we’d sit under the Banyan trees on the 9th hole of the Coral Gable Country Club golf course and look at the stars and talk about our dreams. I wanted to write a book. He wanted to be a millionaire by age 30 and buy a house on the beach. Neither happened in our 30s. Or our 40s.

In our 50s, it occurred to us that we might want to shit or get off the pot — you know, actually do something about these dreams. I wrote a book.

He took a rather unwanted disability retirement. Time wasn’t on our side.

But that didn’t matter. You see, we have Jesus on our side.

So we decided it was time to make his dream happen. And we started looking for waterfront property. And looking. And looking some more. It wasn’t happening. There’s a difference between taking a risk,  pushing the limits of your resources to a risky point, and completely losing your mind. In my experience, Jesus likes a good chuckle every once in awhile and likes to see us lose our minds.

OK. I get it.

Jesus, I trust in you.

Cue this road to nowhere. We went in search of a reasonably priced property we saw online. You’d think we’d know better. The property was a mess. I was a mess. I was a hot mess, folks, and poor John wasn’t about to poor a bucket of ice over my head, though maybe he should have. He certainly had a right to do it given my tantrum, but no. He’s a good guy, and found a church instead. So I could go cool off in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament.

This is why the sacrament of holy matrimony is so important folks. You need three to make a marriage work, but that’s not today’s point. Today’s point is that I was a hot mess, and Jesus had to slap some sense into me.

You see, I didn’t want that property because it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted an open beach to take long walks. I wanted sand between my toes. My husband can’t walk on sand. He needs a boardwalk. I had my dream, and wanted to design his, too. I didn’t see that, but Jesus did. Oh, boy, did he. And he was mad at me for being selfish. It was at that little church that I heard him say to me, yes, heard, in my head and in my heart so there was no mistake, “I gave you your dream. Get out of the way so I can give him his.”

I heard it. Loud and clear. Yes, Lord. Yes.

When I came around the side of the building to get into the waiting car, I saw the For Sale sign behind John. He hadn’t seen it because he was watching out for me. Ha. Ocean front property for sale. Right. There.

A lot happened since then. It has been a year of building, and I don’t just mean a house.

Next week, we move in.

 

 

 

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