Today being the Feast of St Ann, we all made the obvious meditation (or listened to it in a sermon). But it struck me during the middle of Mass that, yes, while St Ann never gave up praying, she knew that she was aging, and she must have known that becoming a mother at age 60 or 70 was not going to be like becoming a mother at age 20. Even if she never gave up hoping for a child, she must have given up many dreams about the raising of that child. So it seemed to me that even if the vocationless Catholic can’t relate to St Ann insofar as she had a vocation and eventually had her prayer granted, we can certainly look to her as an example of how to alter your hope without renouncing it – and, more importantly, how to alter your hope without becoming bitter about having to alter it.

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I’ve discovered the religious equivalent of a First World problem. So – you’ve finally got your own place, which means not only that you can decorate as you please, but you can worship as you please, and, at last, express your private devotions in sacred art. Obviously, as a devout Catholic, you want a Cross somewhere. Equally obviously, you have a devotion to the Sacred Heart and to the Divine Mercy, and, as both images have promises attached to their veneration, you want to make sure they’re on display. There has to be something for Our Lady, and, of course, St Joseph. And the Infant of Prague. And St Michael. These are the non-negotiables, but what about all your favourite saints? Is a home really a home without a photograph of St Therese somewhere? And you’ve loved St Gemma since you were fourteen; how can you not put her photo up, now? And so on.

However, not only do you live in a fairly small space, you also have some taste and artistic decorum. You’d prefer not to assault the eyes of your guests with a devotion-overload, and you also don’t want to feel like you live in a badly decorated convent.

What do you do?

Solutions to follow.

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Visiting my local Salvos today, I was greeted by the shop assistant with, “You’re a real shopaholic, aren’t you?” I tried to defend myself on the grounds that the amount I spend on second-hand clothes in a month is what other people spend on one item of first-hand clothing, but she assured me that I was wrong. So I told her I’d stay away for a few weeks to regain my honour, and she replied, “Oh, don’t do that! You’ve gotta take care of yourself. No one else is going to.”

Well, since I walked away from this exchange with an as-good-as-new Esprit jacket that had cost me $7 instead of $130, and as the coat that cost me $20 last week retails at $419, I feel like the winner.

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Charming Disarray still exists! This is good news in my book, as I only felt able to start writing this blog after reading hers.