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Emily Stimpson Chapman

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Rachel, Hannah, and Me: Our “Great Anxiety and Frustration”

Leaving Home

A Very Few Thoughts on Suffering Beauty and Rest

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I am sorting through boxes in the basement this af I am sorting through boxes in the basement this afternoon and stumbled upon piles and piles of old letters. Almost all are from college friends and were sent during summer vacations. This was back before anyone had emails or texts and long distance calls were charged by the minute. There is a lot I could say about this, but mostly I am just feeling sad that generations of people l will never have the joy of finding a nice fat letter from a friend waiting in the mail box or the pleasure of stumbling acrosss such treasures in dusty old boxes. Technology is all well and good, but I am so glad I got to live a part of my life in a world full of letters.
My friend Molly first opened Friendship Room to gi My friend Molly first opened Friendship Room to give people a warm place to sit on a cold day. Since then, it has become a place where the poorest and most forgotten among us—those who have been trafficked, prostituted, abused, abandoned, and crushed by addiction and mental illness—can encounter Christ’s hospitality and love. Molly and her team do amazing work that Chris and I have supported since the beginning. Please pray for Molly. Pray for those she serves. And on this Giving Tuesday, go to the link in my bio and Stories to support her work with a financial gift. The first $2000 will be matched dollar for dollar by my family and some generous friends.
It’s been a day, a week, a month, a year. I try It’s been a day, a week, a month, a year. I try to give it all to Jesus. I try to listen to Him, learn from Him, and receive what He as to give. Some days, I succeed. Other days, I just think a lot about my house.⁣ ⁣ My new house. My old house. It doesn’t matter. I think about both. I think about both a lot. Partly because I like thinking about houses. But also because it’s something I can control. It allows me to make a whole world take shape in my mind–a world where everything is peaceful and tidy, with no loose ends and no unknowns, and where nothing and no one is missing.⁣ ⁣ During our first home study, our social worker made note of my past struggles with anorexia and observed that my unusually tidy house was probably a sign of lingering control issues. I was so angry. Couldn’t a person just like things beautiful and neat?⁣ ⁣ Five years, three babies, and too many losses later, I can see she was right. I also can see how resourceful I am. When I can’t control my actual home (because three babies) I can control imaginary ones—decorating rooms I don’t own and watching others decorate theirs. Decorating and redecorating is a safe place for me when I’m overwhelmed, scared, and feeling like I’m messing up most everything else.⁣ ⁣ I’ve done a lot of decorating in my mind these last five years.⁣ ⁣ Again, it’s not all bad. The places we call home matter. Beauty matters. Order matters. All are good. I could have way worse coping mechanisms. I’ve had worse coping mechanisms. But God is showing me this one too has to go. I’ve got to learn to accept the messiness of this world and hand more of my discomfort with chaos over to Him, not a Pinterest Board.⁣ ⁣ I’m not the only one who needs to do that. These past few weeks, I’ve spent an awful lot of time looking at house accounts, and judging both by the sheer number of them and by the number of people who follow them, the world is spinning madly out of control and a heck of a lot of us are coping with that by decorating and watching others decorate.⁣ ⁣ I’m just sitting with that thought right now, unsure of where it will take me. But I thought I should share it here, in case you need to sit with it, too.
When I announced our planned move to Steubenville, When I announced our planned move to Steubenville, I got so many questions about how and why we discerned such a move, so I’m answering those questions in this month’s essay for full subscribers. Link in stories and bio.
Posted later than I hoped because a certain child Posted later than I hoped because a certain child was having a breakdown because I don’t believe a diet should consist of only chocolate chip muffins.
Open house ready and wondering if the people who w Open house ready and wondering if the people who will wander through here tomorrow, will glimpse just a hint of this home’s true beauty. What miracles we have been given here. What miracles and what grace.
Well, my effort to read this Live was kind of a ho Well, my effort to read this Live was kind of a hot mess, with my phone losing its connection every 15 seconds. Undaunted, I read it again for you. Because I have been waiting for this day for 10 solid months and I was not going to left some cruddy Wi-Fi connection get in the way of that. I hope you love the book half as much as I do!
When I was 19-years-old, a Protestant friend told When I was 19-years-old, a Protestant friend told me that the Holy Mass was unbiblical idolatry. And I believed him.⁣ ⁣ Despite growing up Catholic, I didn’t know what the Mass was. I didn’t know it was soaked in Scripture from first to last. I didn’t know it was the culmination of the whole story of salvation history. I didn’t know it was Heaven come to earth. And the reason I didn’t know all that was because no one had ever told me. Or at least, no one had ever told me in a way I could understand.⁣ ⁣ It was Scott Hahn’s book “The Lamb’s Supper” that changed that for me. It broke open the ancient wonder and glory of the Holy Mass, showing me what the Mass truly was in a way that made sense to me.⁣ ⁣ We wrote our newest children’s book, “The Supper of the Lamb,” to do the same for small children. It is based upon Scott’s best selling booo, “The Lamb’s Supper,” and our hope is that it will help even the littlest Catholics know the treasure we have in the Mass and the power of what takes place whenever the Mass is offered. ⁣ ⁣ I am so proud of what our team has produced, and I pray it blesses your children and mine even half as much as Scott’s original book blessed me. ⁣ ⁣ To purchase, click the link in my bio or visit The St. Paul Center..
The saints aren’t angels. They’re not gods eit The saints aren’t angels. They’re not gods either. They are men and women like us, who ran the race and won the crown. They also are our dearest friends, our brothers and sisters, who are always there, ready and willing to lend a hand to as we run the same race. Thank you, Lord, for giving us such a big, big family. And Happy Feast Day, dearest ones. I can’t wait to hug you all and thank you in person for walking so closely with our family.
It’s my annual “No one will look at me and smi It’s my annual “No one will look at me and smile, but dang they are cute, so who cares!” Halloween picture. Two “Army guys” and Princess Anna. This was Ellie’s first year doing the trick or treating round, and she charmed the neighborhood, calling out “Happy Halloween” and “I’m beautiful!” to everyone she saw! 🤣
There is not a moment of human history that has no There is not a moment of human history that has not been darkened by battle. Every day, in every corner of our world, angels and demons are fighting all around us. And they’re not fighting over a piece of land the size of New Jersey. They are fighting over us. The battle is over our souls, and where those souls will go when our bodies die: Heaven or Hell.⁣ ⁣ When we recognize that, Lewis said, the real question isn’t 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦? It’s 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?⁣ ⁣ “How is it right, or even psychologically possible,” he asked, “for creatures who are every moment, either advancing to Heaven or Hell, to spend any fraction of the little time allowed to them in this world, on such comparative trivialities as literature or art, mathematics or biology?”⁣ ⁣ The answer, of course, is because that’s what we were made to do. We weren’t made for war. We were made for love. We were made for beauty. We were made for God. And our souls long do what they were made to do. No matter what battles, visible or invisible, are raging around us, our souls long to give love and make beauty and seek God. They long to bring order to the chaos, just like God once did when He spoke into the darkness and said four little words: “Let there be light.”⁣ ⁣ So that’s what we do. And in doing so, we participate in the battle for our souls. Our refusal to be anything less than who God made us to be is a blow to Satan. When we compose symphonies and write poems and sweep the floors of our house with love, we are imaging God. ⁣ ⁣ If we do that in times of peace, that is good. And if we do that in times of war, it is no less good. It is, in some ways, greater. It is an act of defiance against the lord of this world. It is telling him that no matter how he twists other men’s hearts, he will not twist ours. He will not stop us from doing what God made us to do and being who God made us to be.⁣ ⁣ Read the rest in this week’s Substack essay, free to all subscribers. (Link in bio and stories.)
Sharing some thoughts I’ve been carrying around Sharing some thoughts I’ve been carrying around with me for a very long time on babies and dreams in today’s Substack newsletter essay for full susbcribers. Link to the full essay is in my bio.
Taking pictures of these three when we are out and Taking pictures of these three when we are out and about is becoming increasingly difficult. They’re always running ahead of me now, moving fast towards the next big thing. This is good. It’s beautiful. It’s how it is supposed to be. But I didn’t expect this quite just yet. I want to hold on, keeping them tucked in tight, buckled up safe and sound in a stroller that I push, that I control. But they want to run. And I have to let them. More and more each time. More and more each year. I can love them. I can teach them. I can pray for them. I can do all I can to prepare them for what’s ahead, helping them to run well. But in the end, this, right here, is what I have to do. I have to let them run and watch them go. And it is hard.
“It’s easy to sit around and be angry at other “It’s easy to sit around and be angry at others for the sins ripping our world apart. It’s easy to point fingers and say, “Look at those terrible people who do those terrible things.” It’s also easy to tell ourselves that many of those sins were committed long ago, by people we didn’t know, and so we bear no responsibility for them, that they have nothing to do with us.⁣ ⁣ ⁣ “But they have everything to do with us. Every last sin. As human beings, we are one family. We are one people. We fell as a people. We were redeemed as a people. We are our brothers’ keepers. By the power of Christ and through the merits of Christ, God invites us to help set the world right. We need to take Him up on that invitation. We need to let go of our anger, overcome our indifference, and offer spiritual reparation to God for our sins and the sins of others.⁣ ⁣ “Offer reparation, Emily. You choose: a daily Rosary, a first Saturday Mass, a Friday fast, a prayer to the Sacred Heart and Immaculate Heart, your middle-of-the-night feedings with a baby, your pain in all the years you’ll wait for that baby. Just pick some prayer, penance, or pain you can offer for the sins of your brothers and sisters today and for the sins of your brothers and sisters yesterday.⁣ ⁣ “Offer reparation for the slave traders and slaveholders. For the abortionists. For the pornographers and KKK members. For the pedophile priests and cowardly bishops. For the robber barons and drug lords. For the liars, the cheaters, the slanderers, the adulterers, the anti-Semites, the murderers. For the people who stood silently by, through it all, doing nothing to stop the injustice being done before their eyes.⁣ ⁣ “We can’t build a more just society when the wounds of injustice are still open and bleeding. There has to be spiritual reparation. And if Christians don’t offer it, who will?”⁣ ⁣ Resharing a chapter from “Letters to Myself From the End of the World” in my newsletter today. Read the whole chapter via the link in my bio.
Yes, I am Team Toddlers in Carhartts forever. Yes, I am Team Toddlers in Carhartts forever.
You and I were not created for this world, with si You and I were not created for this world, with sickness and death, infirmity and old age. We were not created for a life where joints grow stiff, backs ache, and chairs confine us for years on end. We were created for Heaven, for everlasting life spent in perfect joy, peace, and harmony with one another. We were created to fly together, leap together, dance together, and do it all while beholding God’s most loving face.⁣ ⁣ Deep down, we know this. Deep down, we feel it. Even if we can’t articulate it, we long for Heaven and the life we will lead there. That’s what we’re all striving for, whether we realize it or not. We’re reaching for Heaven all the time, trying to get just a taste of it here and now.⁣ ⁣ Sometime that striving leads us to make poor choices, to grasp at good things but in the wrong ways or wrong times. But other times, that striving just leads us to dance.⁣ ⁣ Read the rest in my weekly free newsletter via Substack. Link in bio.
This week’s newsletter for all subscribers just This week’s newsletter for all subscribers just dropped. Swipe for a taste, then read the whole thing via the link in my bio or in today’s stories.
Contractors are here today. They’re drywalling o Contractors are here today. They’re drywalling our filthy basement bathroom, which has been torn apart for 7 years now. They’re also installing basement outlets, cutting down dangling dead wires, and patching our crumbling front porch steps.⁣ ⁣ None of this will ever be photographed for Instagram. I won’t be making reels about my newly drywalled basement bathroom. Nor will anyone but Chris and I ever notice the end results of these little projects.⁣ ⁣ Just the same, they matter. Chris and I are the stewards of this old house, and if we want this house to endure for another 133 years, we have to do the work that isn’t glamorous, that isn’t for visitors or followers or anyone else besides us and the owners who come after us.⁣ ⁣ As is so often the case, what’s true of old houses is true of our hearts.⁣ ⁣ There is lots happening in my heart these days that isn’t for Instagram. There’s lots happening in every heart that isn’t for Instagram. Very little of the growing, learning, loving, losing, breaking and remaking that is part of every journey can fit into this space. It’s not meant for here, to be smushed in between ads for comfy shoes, vitamin supplements, pillows, and life insurance. It’s too sacred for that.⁣ ⁣ Remember this, and try to think kindly of the people who flash by on your screen. Remember that each account you see is just like a star twinkling in the night sky. All you see is a small light. But behind that light, whole worlds are hidden from view.⁣ ⁣ Remember also that sacred work isn’t always fun or interesting work. The journey to holiness is not a leap from one mountaintop to another. Most of the time, it’s plodding through mud, making the difficult and completely unglamourous choice to hold your tongue, restrain your anger, make your bed, honor your commitment, avert your eyes, listen to your spouse, hold your child, and say your prayers, all when you’d rather not.⁣ ⁣ Virtue grows in the ordinary. Grace is given in the plodding. Holiness takes root in the quiet places, far from the clapping crowds. Very little of the work God needs to do in our hearts photographs well. But that’s the work that has to be done if we want the joy that endures.
“What does the Church teach about yoga, and can “What does the Church teach about yoga, and can Catholics participate in a yoga class?”⁣ ⁣ “Can Satan be redeemed? Is that something we should want?”⁣ ⁣ “I’m happily married, but I still want guys to think I’m attractive. Is that wrong?”⁣ ⁣ I’m answering those questions of yours and more, plus sharing what I’m watching, reading, cooking, and listening to, in this week’s Substack newsletter. This one is free for all subscribers, so click on the link in Bio (or Stories, while it lasts) to read it for free.
Sharing a clip from yesterday’s discusssion in S Sharing a clip from yesterday’s discusssion in Stories about why, in the hardest moments of parenting littles, I pray first for myself and then, aloud, over my toddlers. ⁣ ⁣ You can see the whole discussion in highlights, but if you take one thing away from it, I hope it’s this: God doesn’t want us or our kids trying to white knuckle our way to virtue. He also doesn’t want us struggling alone. He wants us turning to Him and relying on Him and trusting that He will give us the graces that we need. ⁣ ⁣ Praying alone and praying together as a family are important. Going to Mass and Confession alone and together as a family are important. But praying together and for each other in the midst of hard moments helps us tap into the graces of all that family prayer and all those the sacraments.⁣ ⁣ This kind of prayer is not a magic bullet. It won’t fix every problem you have or guarantee you some perfect outcome. You still have to do the hard work of parenting. But it helps you remember you don’t have to do it alone. And that can be a game changer.
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