Guest Post: Blessed Are The Clean of Heart (This Little Light of Mine Blog Tour, Week 6)

Dan Quinn was the youth minister, and thus my “boss,” the year I led music for our local Life Teen program. Today, in the context of the Beatitude calling us to be “clean of heart,” he reminds us about an old practice many of us don’t give much thought.

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If you would ask your Catholic grandparents and especially great-grandparents about sacramentals and devotions you would hear about their affection for rosaries, medals, saints, saint feast days, etc. Today’s Catholics do not seem to have the same affection for sacramentals. How can the Catholic traditions of so many years ago apply to us and our society? Maybe our grandparents and great-grandparents are out of touch with our society? That was a different time – a different morality.

Truth be told, the past generation is out of touch with today’s society. Just look at the difference between the forms of entertainment then and now. They watched TV shows like Leave it to Beaver and The Andy Griffith Show while we watch sexually charged shows like Friends and Two and Half Men. For movies they watched Gone with the Wind while we watch Magic Mike. The elderly think that Fifty Shades of Gray must have something to do with the color palate. Maybe we should join our elderly and become out of touch with today’s society.

It appears to me that the gradual decrease of the devotion to sacramentals coincided with the increase of immorality in our society. Whether or not you accept this analogy between immorality and sacramentals, let us first understand how sacramentals help protect us against immorality.

The lack of devotion shown to sacramentals by today’s Catholics may be due to a lack of education.  Sacramentals are blessed objects like rosaries, medals, crucifixes, scapulars or sacred signs such as the sign of the cross, sprinkling holy water, bowing, pilgrimages, etc. The major importance of sacramentals is they “prepare you to receive grace” and direct us to “sanctification of men and the praise of God.” [CCC 1670]

Some Christians and even some Catholics do not understand why we should utilize sacraments when you can go straight to Jesus. It is important to note that sacramentals are not to replace our relationship with Jesus, sacraments or the liturgy, all of which are far superior. [CCC 1675]. The fact that they “prepare us to receive grace” flows from the Paschal mystery of the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Christ. [1670] Sacramentals have always been an important part of Christian and biblical faith. Here is just one biblical example:

ThisLittleLight_Beatitudes_Cover“So extraordinary were the mighty deeds God accomplished at the hand of Paul that when face cloths or aprons [sacramentals] that touched his skin were applied to the sick, their diseases left them and the evil spirits came out of them.” (Acts 19:11-12).

It is said that we should learn from our past and our past was devoted to sacramentals. Maybe it’s time our society places less importance on the latest iPhone and place more importance on sacramentals such as the miraculous Medal. Sacramentals help us by preparing us to live a sanctified or holy life. A sanctified life spiritually puts us in a better position to receive the fruits of the Holy Spirit. Our immoral society would see more joy, peace, charity, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, modesty, self-control, and chastity. I am confident that we all could use more of all of these.

My favorite sacramental is the Miraculous Medal and the Immaculate Conception of Mary. I know this has deepened my relationship with Jesus and I encourage you to find your devotion to a sacramental. Pray this Prayer of the Immaculate Heart of Mary and ask for help finding your sacramental devotion.

O God, who by the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, didst prepare a worthy dwelling place for thy Son, we beseech thee that, as by the foreseen death of this, thy Son, thou didst preserve her from all stain, so too thou wouldst permit us, purified through her intercession, to come unto thee. Through the same Lord Jesus Christ, thy Son, who livest and reignest with thee in the unity of the Holy Ghost, God, world without end. Amen.

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Dan Quinn and his twin brother, John, are the authors of the Marion Amazon best seller The Ultimate Saint Guide to the Immaculate Conception. He is administrator of the Immaculate Conception of Mary Facebook page.

Published in: on May 7, 2013 at 7:02 am  Comments (1)  
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First Communion: A Journal Entry

Alex 1st Communion 014Where do I begin to detail a First Communion weekend? Perhaps with Friday morning, when I realize my company actually is arriving that night instead of Saturday afternoon, which means I actually do have to clean my house before dinner. Or maybe I should start with Alex coming home from school, wired and wound up by the thought of grandparents and a cousin coming for a sleepover–and not just a sleepover, but a TWO-NIGHT sleepover! Only he’s strangely lethargic despite his excitement, and I frown at what appears to be the beginnings of a runny nose.

And there’s the ice cream run, and the best mini Chocolate Extreme blizzard ever, and Michael insisting on feeding himself his own ice cream, and deciding at the bottom of the cup that he’s not going to waste any of it, and drinking the dregs. The cup covers his entire face, and when he’s done there’s a big sticky ring around his features. And we’re still waiting for Julianna to finish.

There’s the arrival of the family, an hour after bedtime, and the room full of boys who won’t go to sleep until almost 10:00. And who wake up at 6:05 a.m. on Saturday.

1st Communion Cake

(Incidentally: yes, I am VERY proud of this cake.)

There’s the mowing of the lawn, and the opening of the Google Hangout so Michael’s godparents can see him, and the excitement of going with Grandpa to the store for doughnuts. There’s a hasty trip to the grocery store, and a shower, and a wedding to play in the afternoon, and a cake to bake and decorate. And don’t forget about making schnitzel and noodles–Alex’s requested birthday dinner, which is, yanno, only the most in-depth, time-intensive dinner I prepare. It’s turning into one of those weekends where I can scarcely breathe, and my blood pressure is sky high from stress. Thankfully I have extra hands in the house to help.

By dinnertime, I’m struck by the odd sensation that I’ve barely interacted with my children all day. Alex is well and truly sick–low-grade fever. And I’m thinking, Oh, no! Tomorrow’s his first Communion! What do we do about taking the CUP???? Do I tell him he can’t take the cup? On his FIRST COMMUNION????

(Please withhold comments about how the Real Presence is present under one species. I’m a liturgist. I know this. It’s still his First Communion.)

By the time I roll into bed I’m completely shot. But Michael’s up twice in the night, and the third time, at 4:30a.m., I realize with a shot of adrenaline that the rolls for our luncheon are still in the deep freeze, and we’re going to be gone all morning. I’m trying to work out a timeline for assembling rolls in the shape of a bunch of grapes and having them rise and be ready to bake after Mass, and realizing there isn’t a timeline in which that scenario works. I go downstairs in the dark, trying not to wake my in-laws as I dig through the deep freeze in the dark. I go back to bed because I have to–I have to take my temperature at 5:30. But I know full well I’m finished sleeping for the day.

Bunch of grapes--rolls

(Well, it sort of looks like a bunch of grapes.)

By 5:35, Alex is awake. No longer feverish (whew!) but definitely sniffly, and too wound up to sleep. I do a Jazzercise video and assemble the roll creation and put it under a towel in the refrigerator, and we start getting everyone ready for church. Julianna does not want to wear her gorgeous spangled Easter dress. “Doh! I doh wike ee! Doh! I doh wike ee!” she shrieks, and fights me every limb of the way. I think it’s the netting she doesn’t like.

Alex bored

(You can tell he’s not feeling his best, poor guy.)

Church passes in a hazy blur of trying to make sure everything comes together: choir and family logistics, not screwing up the psalm, which I’m playing and Christian’s singing, getting over to join the family for the First Communion itself without making a spectacle. Alex’s hair, newly cut and thick, is soft under my fingers, and my heart feels so full, it bubbles up and wells up through my eyes. I’m trying to hit “pause” and experience this moment to the fullest, but I know it’s not his first Communion that will be most meaningful to me–there’s simply too much else going on to worry about–it’ll be next week, when we file up in line as a family and Alex receives.

And by the way, I’ve decided the heck with the cold. He’s taking the cup.

Alex bringing gifts

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Alex first Communion*

Alex 1st Communion 041

Alex 1st Communion 056After Mass I get to hear about how my kids behaved. “Nicholas and Elise were the highlight of Mass,” my sister-in-law says. “She sidles over beside him and says, ‘I’m four.’”

‘I’m four, too.’

Looking each other up and down. ‘I go to school.’

‘I go to school, too.’

‘I like your dress. Where’d you get it?’

‘From Liz.’”

And my son and his cousin proceed to share hymnals they can’t read for the duration of Mass. “Seriously,” my sister-in-law says, “are they hitting on each other????”

Well….let’s put it this way: inseparable for the rest of the day. Because: “You’re going to sit there, because you’re four. I’m gonna sit there, too. Because I’m four, too.”

Well, enough Journaling. Nose back to the grindstone, with books being ripped and Tonka dumpers being smacked down. Thanks for indulging me this morning.

Published in: on April 22, 2013 at 8:21 am  Comments (12)  

Guest Post: Blessed Are Those Who Mourn (Week 2, This Little Light Blog Tour)

I met Barbara Shoeneberger through the blogosphere, as we both participate in a weekly Catholic carnival. She has approached her chronic health issues with a beautiful attitude of faith. I hope her thoughts today will illuminate the sufferings in your lives as well.

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Barb Feb 2010 resizedNobody gets through this life without mourning. Mourning implies loss of something we value.  Whether it is a dear one, a body part, a capability diminished or extinguished by age, infirmity, or accident; a job, financial security, or innocence; loss can pierce the heart, grind away the stomach, or leave one in a state of emotional and physical collapse.  With loss of what we value comes suffering unique to each person in expression and duration.

Often we are tempted to question God when suffering deeply: “Why me?” That is our first mistake, albeit a natural one. God permits us to suffer for reasons we cannot always see at the time, but by faith we know that He only wills our good. In fact, one of the best ways to suffer well and eventually joyfully, is to seek an ever deepening faith in God. “Lord, I believe. Help Thou my unbelief” (Mark 9:24).

Next we can begin to look for God’s blessings in the heart of our misery. This is essential to avoid getting stuck in suffering. The finishing phrase of this Beatitude: “…for they shall be comforted,” contains the key. The Greek word for “comforted” is the same origin for the word “Comforter” that Jesus uses in John 14:26 when he tells the apostles, ” But the Comforter, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things…”.

Holy Spirit

Holy Spirit (Photo credit: Glass.Mouse)

When we are mourning or suffering, our Father sends us the Holy Spirit to teach us and to show us that He is with us. The Holy Spirit not only enters into the receptive heart Himself, but He comes also by others to help us find peace. We are comforted in our anguish by kind words and sometimes the simple silent being of a friend sitting with us, touching our hands, fixing a meal or doing a chore we can’t do. He puts new people and information into our lives to help us and show us ways to be in a changed existence. Often we describe these people as “Godsends” and indeed they are.

Suffering with joy is my motto for the rest of my life. When we pray “Thy will be done” in the Our Father we are affirming our submission to the good that God desires to do for us. I am joyful in suffering because I have seen how God is reshaping me, redirecting my life, changing my focus from myself to Him. That doesn’t mean that I am not in pain or that I don’t have moments of doubt or panic or rebellion or that I won’t have to start all over again at times because I’ve started to focus on myself and my misery. I just know now that He has a purpose for me, that I am to be faithful to that purpose, that I am not alone, and that I must take life one day at a time. It is enough for me.

O Lord, thank you for the hardship in my life. Thank you for the people you have sent to help me in my difficulties. Thank you for helping me grow in faith, hope, and charity, and for making it possible for me to help others. Please teach me what You want me to know. Give me the grace to understand what You want from me and the strength to do it. Give me submission of heart and will to execute Your plans for me for the good of all.

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Barb Schoeneberger blogs at Suffering with Joy. She serves on the Catholic Writers Guild Seal of Approval committee, provides copy editing and proofreading services to writers, and is working on a book on sin.

Published in: on April 9, 2013 at 8:15 am  Comments (4)  
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Triduum With Littles: A Mommy Processes The Heart Of Holy Thursday

Pope Francis waves to crowds

Pope Francis waves to crowds (Photo credit: Christus Vincit)

Triduum with young children is not a blissful devotional experience. But we do it anyway, because it’s important.

Michael is a wiggleworm during church at all times, but at bedtime, after immunization shots, it increases exponentially. I kept having to take him to the back so he could run back and forth, put his arms up to be picked up only to squirm back to the floor (rinse & repeat). Then he grabbed my face between his hands and started playing Eskimo kiss. It was less charming than it sounds, considering his version involves crashing foreheads and a runny nose.

But somewhere amid toddler wrestling and trying to show the 6- and 4- year-olds what’s so special about this particular day and why we go to Mass at night, something occurred to me that had I had never processed before:

Jesus washed Judas’ feet.

Now that has some pretty profound implications. And it seems to underscore the point about humility that our new Pope keeps making. Francis is rocking the whole world. No limo? No papal palace? You can hardly catch your breath between stories. I can’t help thinking this man knows exactly what the Spirit is calling him to do with his pontificate, and that is to wake up a Church that’s been so myopically focused on liturgy wars and the blame game (re sex scandals) that we’ve let ourselves ignore the call to live the Gospel, which is the reason we exist in the first place.

And that brings me back to the washing of the feet. Because Pope Francis did something really big yesterday. He washed the feet of girls.

Now, if you’re not Catholic or if you are not passionate about matters liturgical, you might shrug and say, “So what?” Certainly that was me until a few years ago, when I discovered that this is, indeed, a hot-button liturgical issue. Some insist that only men may have their feet washed, because the Apostles were men. So for the Pope to go to a prison and wash feet of both sexes is a big deal.

Maybe he’s making a larger statement about gender roles, maybe not. To me Pope Francis’ actions keep reiterating, gently and yet firmly, that the things we’re spending so much time and emotional energy on, things that cause so much division and bad feelings, really are incidental. That if we’d spend more time on the corporal and spiritual works of mercy we’d probably stop bickering about whether Tridentine or Novus Ordo is better, or whether organ music is a funeral dirge or guitar music is sacrilegious.

I’m going to get myself in so much trouble with this post. But there comes a moment amid wrestling babies and trying to pass the faith to small people–for whom the faith has to be distilled to its core essence–it’s hard not to confront how petty our biggest internal arguments really are. On both sides.

After the Lord’s Prayer, Christian took Michael to the back of church. We didn’t see them again until after Mass. In the midst of trying to keep Alex focused and negotiate a truce between Nicholas, who was putting his legs on top of Julianna, and Julianna, who wanted to pull her skirt up and show everyone her purple My Little Pony underwear and receive her First Communion two years early…amid all that, I didn’t have any attention to spare for Christian and Michael’s Holy Thursday moment. Apparently, Michael self-destructed at being ripped from his beloved Mommy’s arms (Christian says I’m like chocolate to Michael :) ). He fussed and cried all the way through the Sign of Peace, the Lamb of God, and Communion as Christian went up the main aisle to receive. He had his head down on Christian’s shoulder and just kept crying. Until the deacon made the cross blessing over him…and he stopped crying instantly. That was it. It was the end of the drama. “You know,” Christian said, “every once in a while you just need one of those reminders that this is all real.” I’m not sure, but I think my non-demonstrative husband might actually have choked up telling that story.

So yes, Triduum with small children is, ahem, less than choice soul food. But it also strips away the non-essentials. And perhaps that’s what I most need right now, anyway.

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Published in: on March 29, 2013 at 10:39 am  Comments (13)  
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7 (sort of) Quick Takes…including a cute video

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Alex is a great kid, but he can’t find diddly squat. Wednesday night, as we were getting ready for choir practice, was no exception. He couldn’t find Julianna’s backpack, even though he was standing right beside it. A couple minutes later Nicholas shouted (because what other volume is there?), “MOMMY I CAN’T FIND MY HEAVY COAT SO YOU HAVE TO FIND IT FOY ME!” Alex went to the closet and said, “It’s right here, Nicholas!”

I murmured to Christian, “Alex found something?”

“Well,” Christian said, in an isn’t it obvious? tone, “we do have a new Pope.”

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"Habemus Papam" - Cardinal Jorge Mar...

“Habemus Papam” – Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, S.J., has been elected Pope Francis I (Photo credit: Catholic Church (England and Wales))

Speaking of the Pope, what’s your impression so far? He seems like a simple, humble man, a servant rather than a king, and I couldn’t be happier. I loved that he asked the faithful to pray for him. I loved that touch of self-deprecating humor: “They had to go practically around the world to find him.” And the way he referred to himself as Bishop of Rome instead of Pope. And those big, out-of-style glasses. And the fact that he’s already been criticized by both right and left, which is always a good sign. I can’t wait to see where he leads us.

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Nicholas has a little angel-devil thing going on. He’ll be super sweet and helpful for a few minutes and then grow fangs and start smoking at the ears, resulting in banishment to his room, accompanied by ear-piercing screams. So the other night, when Nicholas gave us a whole dinner hour’s worth of politeness–please, thank you, compliments, the works–Christian said to me sotto voce, “Who turned the angel light on him?”

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new trailer 12-05-09

new trailer 12-05-09 (Photo credit: JARM13)

Yesterday afternoon I broke the Burley out of its snowstorm storage. The kids are crazy about the Burley. For now, at least, when they’re riding behind a bicycle they seem to be immune to the snipping and bickering that has come to characterize so much of their interactions recently.

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I hit the big time this week: I was featured in an article in the National Catholic Register!

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And because you need some Julianna cuteness, here’s a video from choir practice. (Disclaimer: this was our first run-through of this particular piece. It is not a polished performance.)

Julianna goes to religious ed on Wednesdays now, so she’s with us for the last half hour of rehearsal instead of in the nursery with the rest of the kids. She thinks she’s part of the choir–pulls out a book, sings at the top of her lungs whether or not she knows the song. It’s adorable.

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And finally…I’ve been at 129-point-something for 5 days, so I’m going to call it: I’ve reached my weight goal!

Weight Goal!

I went running last weekend for the first time in months and was thrilled to find it enjoyable. Lots and lots of Jazzercise has given me the strength and endurance I needed to make it a positive experience instead of a penance. On Sunday afternoon, though, my legs were really tired. I realized I hadn’t taken a day off exercise in two weeks. I knew I needed to cool it…but I can only get to Jazzercise on certain days at certain times, and videos are a mediocre substitute. So I pushed through Monday, and man, I was sore. On Tuesday I expected a more leisurely workout, but we did “circuit training,” which turned out to be even harder. I winced my way through the rest of the day, my muscles telling me “Enough! Mercy! A break!” So unwillingly (because exercise gives me more calories to eat) I took Wednesday off…and the soreness dissipated instantly.

The odd thing is that I’ve been STARVING all the time again, despite being over my calorie budget every day for a week. And yet my weight is maintaining. So that tells me the excessive exercise had kicked up my metabolism. And also that I’m probably ready for a maintenance diet instead of a losing one.

___Bonus take___

We got Alex up early this morning to watch the space station cross overhead. I’ve seen it several times while running, but it was fun to share with Alex.

7 quick takes sm1 7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 211)

Published in: on March 15, 2013 at 5:56 am  Comments (7)  
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Pathways To Heaven

Photo by VISION Vocation Guide, via Flickr

We had a pretty good discussion here last week on the topic of marriage and whether there is only one man for one woman. As I was writing, I knew I was spending too much time on one part of what I was trying to communicate, but not until later did I realize I had buried the really important point. So I decided to revisit it today–briefly. (No epic-length post today, I promise!)

The quotes I shared about marriage were actually made in the context of a discussion of vocation to consecrated life:

“Usually, in refusing (a vocation) from God, a person finds his or her path to heaven more difficult. It is not so much that there is only one way to heaven for each of us. But it seems that God calls us to the best possible vocation suited to our personalities and talents.

“God would never violate his own creative act by compelling human persons to act in a certain way. This is why God tolerates the choice to sin. … Therefore, there must be more than one possible path to heaven for each of us, although for each of us there is a best vocation.” (ToB/Hogan, p. 155)

This is the point I was hoping to make last week, and I got off-track by spinning out my neurosis about marriage as an example. It’s a big deal to discern a vocation, but sometimes we leave kids with the impression that if we incorrectly identify GOD’S WILL FOR MY LIFE, we’re just basically screwed (pardon my language). Like, if we get it wrong, we’ll never be able to get to Heaven because we aren’t following GOD’S WILL FOR MY LIFE.

Once you put it in those terms it’s kind of obviously nonsensical, but does it ever occur to us that maybe people resist the idea of discerning a religious vocation because we make it such a big deal? That maybe they’d rather not risk asking the question and getting the answer “wrong”?

Hogan went on to explain “best vocation” by saying that God calls each of us to our vocation based on our talents and interests; a person who isn’t good with kids might not be well-suited to marriage, for instance…but all is not lost if that person does get married–it’s just that the path to Heaven is harder, because the daily demands of life are going to push their buttons more. Likewise, someone called to marriage might not function as well in the priesthood, because loneliness might be a heavy burden–but it’s not impossible, it’s just harder. So it’s okay to step out and discern, because that’s the point of seminary or novitiate–to ask the question, and learn by living out the life whether it is or isn’t meant for you.

That, in the end, was what I was getting at by saying this was such a liberating idea.

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Published in: on January 22, 2013 at 8:12 am  Comments (1)  
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Alive Again

Michael and I went to the Newman Center for Mass last night. That wasn’t how the day was supposed to be. I was supposed to be at 10:00 Mass across town, with the choir and my husband. I was supposed to conduct an a cappella piece and sing harmony on the psalm. But Nicholas’ illness peaked in the night, capping off three days of whining and bloody noses with a night of fever and four hours’ solid dry hacking. At three a.m. I said blearily, “He can’t go to church tomorrow. I’ll have to go later, before my meeting.”

So there I sat at five p.m., in the section beside the choir, at my old stomping grounds. As accustomed as I am to the constant jostling for position, it was disorienting to sit alone (well, alone until the baby woke up). But restful, too.

Although this was the Sunday evening liturgy I directed for one short year as a newlywed, the parish repertoire has moved on. I knew very little of it, but I learned, enjoying the sound of a contemporary ensemble that is most of what I would like ours to be, leading a willing assembly actively engaged. (Can I just say…wow.)

There’s something special about that church, and although I love my parish and the community to which I have dedicated the last twelve years, somehow whenever I walk into the building where I met my husband and where I married him, it feels like coming home. So much of my growing-up-in-faith happened within those walls, and sitting there, the memories seemed to leap up in greeting.

There were evening choir practices and prayer circle in the cry room, and the heartfelt hug and prayer of a wonderful woman who could see that something was troubling me in those early months of my anxiety, even though I didn’t have the courage to tell her what it was. There were Sunday morning prayers before Mass, twenty people crowded into a music storage room not wide enough for two to pass each other. There was the day after our wedding, when I stood up to ask for  volunteers for my Life Teen music ensemble. It was the first time I ever referred to myself as “Kate Basi,” and the whole assembly, which had seen us grow together for four years, applauded.

Photo by Niccola Caranti, via Flickr

There were earlier memories than that, even. I remember sitting with my parents on a Saturday evening in the days when the church was arranged “in the round,” and the slanting rays of the evening sun blinded, the light searing my soul, flaying it open. It flayed open again last night as I watched my fourth baby stare, mesmerized, at the warmth glowing on polished wood.

I was awake to the holy last night in a way I haven’t been for a long time. And it was beautiful.

Published in: on April 23, 2012 at 6:59 am  Comments (3)  
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A few fun stories for your Friday (a 7QT post)

Am I laughing or crying? Crying. Definitely crying.

I’m typing these up on Thursday night as I listen to my poor baby crying upstairs. He’s got the family cold, and is so, so tired, but he won’t nurse, and holding him is like holding a cranky, squirmy, unhappy child who will.not.go.to.sleep, even though that’s all he wants. It wasn’t supposed to be this way…he was almost asleep, despite the noise of siblings crowing as Mommy read them good night stories…but in the last five minutes of his night feeding, Nicholas’s nose started bleeding. I held a tissue to Nicholas’s nose while Alex moved the baby off my lap, and…well, that was the end of that. Poor baby!

(Poor Mommy. I don’t know if I’m going to make it. Surely he’ll nurse now? Surely? Surely?)

(In case you’re wondering, Daddy was not at home to help during the drama.)

Anyway, a few fun stories for your Friday….

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An Easter Story: On Easter Sunday, I sang the psalm at our church–a Gospel setting of Ps. 118 by Grayson Warren Brown. The kids recognize it because we have it on video from Nicholas’s baptism, and before Mass Nicholas was humming it softly: “Be gwad, we-joice.” On this particular setting, the music ends pretty much with the last note of the final refrain, so the whole church was poised in silence as the sound died away, and my daughter, nestled in the congregation with one of her babysitters, shouted, “YEAH!” 850 people cracked up. It was awesome.

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An Easter Image: Speaking of Easter, here’s the Easter Tree, adapted from my book, from the first grade hallway of our school–on the first Sunday of Lent…

and on Easter Sunday:

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Light at the end of the tunnel Eastern end of ...

Light at the end of the tunnel Eastern end of Newchurch No2 Tunnel (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The light at the end of the tunnel: Nicholas is beginning to be trustworthy to go outside by himself. He will do as directed and stay in the garage for five minutes while I go change a diaper or get other kids ready to come out and play, and I no longer feel like I have to watch him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t vanish. I’m not ready to let him out on his own the way Alex does…but I can see the light.

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The light at the end of the tunnel, 2: Julianna has been going to the bathroom without being told. This is huge.

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That light at the end of the tunnel…is sometimes an oncoming train: Lest we get too excited, however…I thought Julianna had finally outgrown trying to kill her baby brother. Then I found her smashing his face into the Boppy, such that he truly could not breathe. I swear that girl is giving me gray hair.

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Motivation and Inspiration: My grandmother gave me a book for Christmas called Rediscover Catholicism, by Matthew Kelly. For the first hundred pages I was skeptical; it seemed he was talking in generalities and never getting to specifics. But the chapter on fasting really convinced me. I can’t do justice to the thought process behind it, but in a nutshell, the he says that in order to truly be free, we (mind/soul) have to be in control of the body (WANT! WANT! WANT!). Otherwise we’re just obeying physical cravings. The way we achieve discipline is through fasting. He suggests that at every meal, you should deny yourself once. Not a huge thing, just a tiny thing. I’ve been doing it this week, and talk about redefining meals as a spiritual exercise! It really resonates with me, because in the post-Easter return to sweets, I always have trouble with self-control.

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Photo by wstera2, via Flickr

A Seasonal Muddle: Not long ago I was shaking my virtual head on Facebook, reflecting on the weird mixture of seasonal projects I had underway. But I don’t think I fully processed it until yesterday. Early in Lent, I was doing radio interviews on Lent, finishing an Advent bulletin insert, brainstorming a Christmas bulletin insert, writing a rough draft of a book on Ordinary Time, and rehearsing a choir for Easter. I didn’t know which way was up. All I can say is…I have a healthy new respect for those in the liturgical publishing industry. How do they keep their heads on straight?

7 quick takes sm1 7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 169)

Published in: on April 13, 2012 at 4:58 am  Comments (14)  

A Thousand Words (Images from a baptism weekend)

My cousin Chrissy, my very first and very longest friendship, spanning 32 out of 37 years, with her husband Ed and their godson Michael, on Dec. 30th when they arrived.

Don’t we have a picture of Julianna and Nicholas looking at each other just like this?

New Year’s Eve it was 60 degrees and we took a nature walk that turned into a rock climb. Yes, I climbed rocks. No, I shouldn’t have. Yes, I paid the price for my bad judgment in pain. But I got to climb rocks!

(Yes, Julianna really did carry that purse up onto the Pinnacles, Mom. Until she started tripping, and then Daddy carried it.)

Chrissy and Alex on top of the rocks. Christian, Ed and the three littlest ones had already said “enough,” and at this point I called a retreat for us, too.  I knew I had already overdone it and I couldn’t go to the big window, on that spire in the background. I promised Alex we’d hire a babysitter later this spring and have a picnic up there, just him and me.

Grandma and Grandpa B. came in that evening and got to hold Michael for the first time.

And then, the big day arrived.

Our first “formal” family picture:

Thanks to my b-i-l Rob, who took pictures, and to my sister Andrea, who took time to send them to me on a busy night when she was trying to get her grades ready!

***

Shared with 5 Minutes For Special Needs’ Special Exposure Wednesday…because my “special” girl exists in the midst of a family, and not off by herself…

Published in: on January 4, 2012 at 8:39 am  Comments (3)  
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Does Jesus Laugh?

Jesus

Image by glasgow's finest via Flickr

On Saturday night I was singing Julianna through hair washing (“I’ve got that joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart!”) when Alex turned to me and launched into an unfinished conversation from the day before. “Mommy, we don’t sing that Devil verse at school because it would be wrong.”

I paused in the middle of “If the Devil doesn’t like it he can sit on a tack—ouch!” (Julianna’s reward verse for getting through the rest of the torture. It makes her giggle.) “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we can’t sing that at church!” He looked appalled by the very thought. Somewhere deep in my gut, I felt a disturbing flutter. “Well,” I said, “I don’t know that I ever sang it at church when I was little, either. But Alex, church isn’t supposed to be all gloom and doom.”

He looked at me like I was completely nuts. “It’s supposed to be…” He couldn’t find the word, but I knew what he was searching for.

BORING.

IRRELEVANT.

I wasn’t about to fill those words in for him.

There are so many ways to skew how we approach God. An acquaintance of mine once told me, “A person’s faith ought to be a comfort to them, not a source of misery.” The point being that faith should never require suffering or challenge you to do anything you don’t want to do. There’s a strong movement in the world in which church is entertainment—I heard recently of a church where the cross isn’t even used, because it might “make people uncomfortable, and we want all to be welcome.”

On the other hand, there is a strong reaction to all this which focuses myopically on formality, on sacredness—to the point where it’s viewed as disrespectful at least, and perhaps sacrilegious, to crack a smile, to play an upbeat song, or to speak above a whisper.

Believing that God lies squarely in the middle on this topic as almost every other, I find myself continually frustrated. But to see the dawning of POV #2 in my own child brings me to a whole new level of soul disturbance. God created us as people who love laughter and companionship. And since we’re created in God’s image, doesn’t that say something pretty important about God?

At first, casting about for explanation, my mind settled on the strict regimen of behavior expected at parochial school. But as Alex stood beside me during Mass yesterday, his nose pressed to the shiny lacquer of the piano his daddy was playing, looking at reflections of his face and the ceiling in its depths—and more importantly, as we tried to scold him into paying attention—I realized that we bear a large portion of the blame, too.

Not so long ago, I read somewhere that when we’re trying to make the liturgy “relevant” for our young people, the opposite of boring is not entertaining, but meaningful. That’s what I want for my children. Alex shows some really wonderful early signs of reaching that goal—he’s trying to listen to Paul’s brutally convoluted rhetoric and make sense of it, and when he doesn’t (which is every week, of course), he tugs on my arm and says plaintively, “I don’t understand.” I love that about him.

But I think as his parents, we have a huge role in this too. Guidance and formation might happen without us…but it’s not very likely.

“Alex,” I said, “you know, Jesus didn’t walk around being all solemn all the time. He loved to laugh and tell jokes. Jesus was a human being, too.”

Two little ones screamed for attention then, and we never finished the conversation. But maybe that’s okay. Because this isn’t really a conversation that ever gets “finished,” is it?

Published in: on November 21, 2011 at 6:27 am  Comments (19)  
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