via crucis

On this Good Friday...

The younger lad drew this on Ash Wednesday

"We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,

because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world."

--from The Way (or Stations) of The Cross, or "Via Crucis"

testing

Just as in today's first reading, God put Abraham to the test by asking Abraham to sacrifice his only son Isaac (but stopping him before he did so), each of us is daily undergoing some sort of test.  He gives us free will to decide how we will rise to the challenge.  God being all-knowing, the outcome will be no surprise to him. 

In his homily today, the pastor of our parish made an insight I hadn't thought of but can apply to many situations.  He posited that God didn't test Abraham in order for Abraham to prove his faith in God to God, as the Lord already knew the depth of Abraham's faith.  Rather, the test was for Abraham to see how strong his faith in God was for himself. 

There come to mind heart-breaking situations of families losing loved ones -- babies, parents, siblings, and friends.  I will not presume to think I understand the depth of their sorrow.  I do hope and pray that, in spite of that sorrow, they are able to draw peace and strength from their faith in God that their loved ones are at rest in the perpetual light of heaven and will someday greet those still living when they arrive at the end of their own earthly lives.

The testing of one's faith doesn't come only by way of losing loved ones.  In our fallen world we each are confronted with things that challenge and even shake our faith in the one true God who loves and wants each of us to spend eternity with him.

Each of us has a different hand to play, so to speak.  We can not know the internal struggles the people in our midst are battling.  I pray that by the grace of God, we will each realize ourselves to be stronger than we think we are in the faith we have in him.

good guy

Good St. Joseph*, protector of Mary and Jesus,
pray for my beloved this day,
  and for our fathers, grandfathers, uncles, brothers, cousins, friends,
  and those who have no earthly models of virtuous men.

May your example serve as an inspiration and aid in the loving, humble service
  they render to us, their loved ones,
and may your prayers and ours on their behalf
  be instruments of God's grace working in each of them.

Amen.

*For an explanation of the significance of St. Joseph Day to our family, check out last year's post.

loving action cross

Acts of charity and sacrifice made by the bambini this Lenten season are being commended with stickers (as well as expressions of gratitude) on this Loving Action Cross (an idea borrowed from the preschool at the elder lad's parochial school).  May it be a visual sign of their ever-deepening concern for others, and a way of reinforcing for them that God loves us (which the elder lad spontaneously noted when he drew the cross for this project).

Amen.

God calling

The pastor emeritus of the parish I served as director of music and liturgy in my former life rang me on the telephone this afternoon.  He called to wish me early felicitations for the feast of St. Polycarp, a saint this pastor holds in high esteem who the Church remembers in a special way tomorrow (February 23rd).  Come to think of it, he calls me every year on February 22nd, I think to make sure I remember that tomorrow is his favorite saint's feast day, but mainly to capitalize on an opportunity for a quick hello and aural snapshot of how we're doing here now that I don't see him in the church office on a daily basis.

It might as well have been God himself calling me this afternoon speaking through the voice of this Irish Catholic priest who has long and often affirmed mothers tending to their young children.  He never fails to offer concrete words of encouragement such as "it's important work you're doing," or recognize the intensity of our experiences -- albeit in a lighthearted way such as good-naturedly teasing a mother in a grocery store with multiple children in and hanging off of the shopping cart by asking her what she does in her spare time. His timing was impeccable today, as we were in the throes of Happy Hour here.  The pick-me-up was much needed and appreciated. 

My friend the St. Polycarp fan was instrumental to my having a profession as a liturgical musician before my vocation of marriage led me to motherhood (as he was the pastor of that parish when it instituted the full time position I held for a few years), and he's instrumental now in my living out this vocation of marriage and motherhood.  Having served Christ in untold numbers of faces over the years in various pastoral capacities and still now in retirement, this man of God brings Christ to those who seek him and those who might otherwise not be looking for him, simply by encouraging us in our daily doings with uplifting words and sometimes ornery humor.  God love him.

(not so) secret santa

me, conducting an impromptu poll: "What do you think Daddy might like for Christmas?"

lass: "green!"
younger lad: "a green ax!"
elder lad: "a green remote-controlled hot rod!"

We may or may not have looked for these things as we shopped for the children whose gifts we signed up to procure from our parish's Angel Tree as part of our St. Nicholas Day festivities.

This alms-giving aspect of the feast day is equally as important as (if not more so than) the treats our bambini found by their shoes on the hearth this morning (fresh crayons, clementines, and small squares of chocolate wrapped in gold paper).  That's why I chose to go through with the shopping after school (i.e. approaching Happy Hour) and in spite of the chill in the air.  

We are humbled by the tremendous blessings God continues to lavish upon us.  It is our honor and duty to share these with those less fortunate than ourselves, and to teach our bambini to tend to the needs of others  that go unmet.  It involves learning we don't always get what we want when we want it, but God always provides for our needs.

Case in point: a green remote-controlled hot rod...

hurry up and wait

Yes, I've started Christmas shopping and am getting in the "holiday spirit," but we haven't put up our Christmas tree yet.  We've deferred that for a couple of weeks to live the season of Advent -- that liturgical season leading up to the celebration of the birth of Christ at Christmas.   

Our Advent wreath is in a place of prominence (if out of reach and in need of some greenery) and we've begun the family Advent calendar my beloved's grandmother puts together every year.  Each day of Advent we pray for a person, couple, or children in the extended family.  It's a beautiful, long-standing tradition in his family, one in which we "pray with one another... for one another," as she pens on each calendar. We have a calendar for both sides of my beloved's family.

We got out the nativity scene and have stashed tucked the baby Jesus in a drawer until Christmas morning (here's hoping he stays there).  Mary, Joseph, and the donkey are over yonder on the kitchen counter; the wise men and their trusty camel are on the mantel. 

I'm hoping to put together a Jesse Tree, an Advent activity in which ornaments symbolizing events from  Creation through the birth of Christ are hung on a tree branch (or in our case, the ornament tree I received for Christmas last year that has stayed up year round, holding paper bird ornaments for the lass's first birthday party decorations, Easter eggs during that festive season, and an array of bambini hats after that).  I've wanted to do this every year for the past several but haven't gotten all the ornaments together -- and that's still the hang up this year.

As with other celebrations and observances, I'm trying not to get mired down in the minutiae of decorations and details, taking the bambini with me on a confusing, stressful decline.   If we don't get a Jesse Tree together this year, God willing we can work on the ornaments later in preparation for next year.  Advent is already evident in our praying for our loved ones with the aid of the family Advent calendars, lighting the Advent wreath, serving others by our St. Nicholas Day observance, and retelling the nativity story. 

Tuning into the stillness and wonder of the reason for this season is a tall order amidst all the hustle and bustle.  A taller still order is helping our bambini focus on the true meaning of Christmas with so many distractions, temptations, and mixed messages about what's really important.  By rolling out the seasonal decorations incrementally, we hope to deepen the bambini's understanding and, by turns, experience of Christmas.

In some stores it's been Christmas for weeks or even months now.  We're not there yet.  This time before Christmas is one of expectation and hope.  I know what it's like to be a month out from the expected day a baby is due to arrive, wondering if the day will ever come, trusting it will, and using that time to prepare our hearts and minds to receive the gift of God Incarnate at Christmas.

speaking their language

The few Easter decorations I put up with such glee on Holy Saturday night are still out.  While it's been entirely appropriate to have them up this long, today being Pentecost Sunday and the end of the liturgical season of Easter, it's probably time to put them away.  I have relished the delightful symbols of new life.  Just as things look a little bare when the Christmas decorations are put away, so too I think will they look once I get these Easter accents taken down.  But Easter hope and new life remain with us, as does the Holy Spirit whose presence among us we celebrate today.

In the first reading today we hear about the apostles speaking in the many languages of the diverse array of people gathered in Jerusalem.  Communication and word usage are perennial interests of mine, so I can easily parlay this into the various ways I communicate with my family and those around me... 

While we may speak the same language, each person really has a different way of expressing him- or herself and of feeling "heard" or understood.  (There's an entire series of books by Dr. Gary Chapman on people's "love languages".)  I've discovered a few inlets to the hearts of my bambini (among other tangible signs of attention and affirmation):

• Offer the lass some blueberries, raisins, crackers, or cookies.
• Take my younger lad to the "swing playground" (as he calls it) in our neighborhood -- or some other playground with swings, because often, as he says, "I just want to swing."
• Share some chocolate with the elder lad, or build something out of Legos with him.

In speaking their love language, I hope to communicate to and with these bambini in a way that expresses not just my love, but reflects the love Christ has for each of them.

And as for the Easter decorations, I've got a smashing wreath of red berries to hang on the door.  Red being the liturgical color of Pentecost, today is the perfect day to hang it.  I even remember where I stashed it -- but that's more likely thanks to the prompting of the Holy Spirit than my shifty memory.

Easter anticipation

While I might have been a bit uncertain of myself on Holy Thursday, I awoke this morning with great joy that Easter is upon us.  At this late hour I am filled with hope and excitement that we have arrived at long last at the night in which

"Jesus Christ broke the chains of death
and rose triumphant from the grave."*
* From the Exultet, proclaimed at the Easter Vigil after the lighting of the new Paschal Candle which burns throughout the Easter season and at every baptism (among other times) in the year to come.

Now's about the time people who have gone to the Easter Vigil, including those who have come into the Catholic Church, might be returning home or celebrating with their fellow faithful at a reception in the church parish hall.  We didn't go to the Easter Vigil this year, as it begins after the bambini's bedtime and is a long -- breathtakingly beautiful -- liturgy filled with prayer, music, flowers, rejoicing ... all the best efforts of all those who gather to celebrate.

We spent this beautiful Holy Saturday with my parents and sister.  It was a lovely little getaway for us, highlighted by lots of fun outside and an emphatic "this is so fun!" from the elder lad as he hunted for the eggs his auntie had hidden for him and his siblings.

As we begin our Easter celebration -- one that the Church celebrates for 50 days, and every Sunday of the year -- I reflect back on our Lenten journey, grateful for the blessings it brought to light, grateful for the renewal and opportunities for repentance it offered, and grateful for the grace that propels us forward to (by that same grace) maintain this deepened connection with Christ every day henceforth. 

I think the best closing comes from the Exultet again:

"May the morning Star which never sets find this flame still burning:
Christ, that Morning Star, who came back from the dead,
and shed his peaceful light on all mankind,
your Son who lives and reigns for ever and ever."

Amen.  Alleluia!

ready or not

I've been checking things off my list to be ready for Easter (baskets, correspondence, ingredients for celebratory meals, and such) and my beloved's birthday on Monday.  I'm happy to say I'm pretty much ready (except for the table full of laundry that awaits folding and the packing for our overnight trip tomorrow to visit my parents and sister for the holiday, but I'll get to those). 

The thing is, I'm not convinced that I'm spiritually ready for the events of this weekend -- for Easter morning.  I'm not sure if I lived Lent as well as I should have, or if I have helped my bambini do so.  They know we have been in the season of Lent and generally of it being a season of repentance, that tomorrow -- Good Friday -- we will mark the Lord's passion and death, and that Sunday is Easter (about which they are very excited).  We have scaled back on many of the perks and pleasantries in an effort to allow Christ to enter more fully in, and we have made this reason known to our bambini.  There is that nagging question in my mind, though, as to whether it has been enough.  Is it ever?

This being after sundown on Holy Thursday, we have entered into the Triduum, meaning Three Days, commemorating the Last Supper, Good Friday of the Lord's Passion, and Easter (including the Easter Vigil celebrated after sundown on Holy Saturday).  Lent has ended; we have arrived at the holiest of holy days.  

I pray for the grace to be open to receiving the graces poured out in abundance these final days leading up to Easter, for for either a release from self-doubt and/or a renewed sense of focus and accomplishment in living the liturgical year -- especially these holiest days and seasons -- in a very real way, and for a heart open and ready to rejoice Sunday morning. 

a man's man

Had our younger lad, who will turn three next week, been born on this day *and* a girl (which I thought he was the entire time he was in utero), I would've been strongly inclined to name her Lily.  This would be in honor of St. Joseph, husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary and foster father of Jesus, whose feast day we celebrate today.  The lily is one of the symbols associated with St. Joseph, as many stories speak of Joseph's staff flowering with lilies to indicate his being God's choice as her spouse.

Since the year my beloved and I became engaged (shortly after this feast day), I have made it a point to observe the feast of St. Joseph as a day to honor the husbands and fathers (and uncles and brothers) in my family and that of my beloved's.  In some countries it is celebrated as Father's Day, and I love the idea of incorporating the liturgical feasts into family life for days like today.

In past years I've tried to make the day special for these valiant men in my life -- my beloved, my dad, my father-in-law, and my grandfather-in-law, among the many other honorable men among our family and friends -- in a variety of ways, usually involving such things as lilies -- either fresh or pictured on a card, and/or by going to daily Mass to pray for their intentions.  None of that happened today.   These men I love and cherish and for whom I am grateful beyond words have been in my thoughts and prayers all day, even if I didn't make as big a deal out of the day as I might've liked to.

When it comes to seeking the counsel and prayers of a wise, honorable, holy, devoted husband and father to serve as inspiration and aid to men trying to live out these virtues in their own vocations, there is no better man either living or dead than Good St. Joseph. He was a fully human, hard-working man, one who knew all too well the struggles men face in their daily lives.  His prayers garner the attention of Christ, and I have every confidence St. Joseph prays in earnest for every man married or single, father or not, that each one may be the person Christ calls him to be in whatever station of life he may be, and that each man may serve Christ by serving those around him. 

So to the men who have worked and continue to work so hard to take care of me, our bambini, our family, and countless untold others, today I thank and wish you all the blessings of a happy feast day.  May Good St. Joseph remember you today and every day in his prayers, and may the humble example of loving service to his family always be a source of strength and inspiration for you as you endeavor to do the same with such devotion and tenderness.  I love you all so much.

living Lent cheerfully

No, I didn't go on an Internet fast for Lent -- nor did I give up chocolate. Such might result in great suffering for those around me, which misses the point entirely.  I'm not really sure what has happened to the time that has elapsed since my last post and this one.  Life, I guess.   Living Lent.

The disciplines I have undertaken for Lent are meant to rid myself that which keeps me from God.  There are certain food-related things we are to abstain from during Lent (namely meat on Ash Wednesday and all the Fridays of Lent), though as a pregnant mother, the Church does not ask me to adhere to the fasting and abstinence laws with as strict an observance as women who are not pregnant or nursing (I still do abstain from meat on these days, making up the protein deficit with other foods).  I try to find other things from which to abstain in other ways (extravagance, for example).  And I'm trying to make a return to God in areas that I've let slide, such as the daily readings and certain daily prayers that had been routine but have somehow slipped through the cracks.  In fact, I think I'll look at it as trying to seal up those cracks with God himself.  As it should be.

But still, this undertaking is not easy -- nor is it meant to be.  Nothing worth doing well is going to come easily, now is it?  And when the going gets rough -- when I'm missing the pleasantries that are okay when enjoyed in moderation but are dangerous if they ultimately distract me from God, I'm faced with the choice to either despair at their absence or turn to God to fill in the gap they've left.  The latter is the whole point of the Lenten season.  To be more ascetic just for the sake of doing is not the objective; clearing out the clutter -- figuratively and literally -- to make room for God and to rely upon him instead of worldly things is what we're going for.

A few weeks in with a few more to go of Lent, it can seem like a long road.  But Lent doesn't last forever, and it doesn't exist for its own end.  The glorious celebration of Easter awaits.  We can't fully celebrate that feast without the mortification of Lent, and we live Lent in gratitude for the ultimate gifts of sacrifice and redemption each of us now possesses because of Easter.

We live as a people redeemed by Christ's sacrifice on the Cross, so when we are tempted to give into  melancholy or even despair over those things that we think bring us joy but really are rather inconsequential, let us offer those weaknesses to God and ask him to redirect our thoughts to Easter and its eternally joyous meaning.  Though it is a penitential season, I am striving to live Lent cheerfully -- and by that I mean in a manner grateful for the opportunities to unite my own small sufferings to those of Christ crucified.  By God's grace may we find ourselves closer to him than ever on Easter morning.

favorite Christmas books

We benefit hugely from a longstanding tradition in my beloved's family at this time of year: our children receive books as gifts every year from my beloved's parents and grandparents (among others; my sister gave them books this year as well).  Each book is selected with great attention to detail both with regard to the story and how it relates to the child for whom it is intended.  The opening of the Christmas books is one of my favorite parts of the Christmas festivities.  I love to go back and look at the inscriptions in each one year after year, as these books are ways of remembering our bambini at particular stages in their lives and the things that captured their fancies at the those times.  They're also ways of marking our journey as a young family.

For example, the year we were expecting our second lad, we received Little One, We Knew You'd Come by Sally Lloyd-Jones, illustrated by Jackie Morris.  With beautiful imagery both literary and visual, this book captures the profound joy and hopeful expectation of not only a couple expecting a baby, but the world awaiting its savior.  The interactions depicted between Mary and Joseph and the two of them and the newborn Jesus are tender and intimate, creating a sense of quiet wonder coexisting with abundant joy.

When a shepherd boy goes in search of the lost sheep in his care, he finds much more than he was expecting.  The boy (and the lamb missing its mother the sheep) finds Mary, Joseph, and newborn Jesus in the stable.  Something inside him recognizes the immensity hidden within the humble couple and their baby, and he longs to be a part of it.  The warmth of Raúl Colón's illustrations evokes a sense of wonder and peace.

"After the star had set, after the angels had roosted, after the shepherds had hurried back to their sheep, there was one person still awake in the dark stable."   Thus begins Geraldine McCaughrean's Father and Son: A Nativity Story.  Joseph sits awake in the stable after everyone else is asleep, wondering how he can ever care for, teach, admonish, instruct, and joke with the one who formed the world and all its contents.   This is a book filled with emotions that will resonate immediately with parents both seasoned and those just starting out.

Kate DiCamillo's Great Joy is a visually arresting book (with illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline) with a profoundly moving story centering on a little girl living in a busy city and the homeless organ grinder on the street corner she watches from her window.  She's getting ready for her Christmas program, but she can't stop thinking about this sad man and his little monkey, especially after seeing them sleeping on the street corner in the snow.  Moved with compassion, she is compelled to reach out to him.  The result is pure joy.

 In Saint Frances Celebrates Christmas, Mary Caswell Walsh tells the story of the first nativity scene in an easygoing manner perfect for young children.  Saint Francis gathers people and animals together for a wondrous effect.  This Christmas we received The Song of Francis and Jingle the Christmas Clown by Tomie de Paola, which I eagerly await reading with my bambini. 

Cynthia Rylant's Silver Packages is a poignant story of an Appalachian town awaiting the yearly Christmas train.  A wealthy man once helped by the people of the town stands on the caboose tossing Christmas presents to the children standing in the snow clad in threadbare clothing.  One little boy learns a profound lesson about receiving, then giving back.

Our list of favorites would not be complete without a couple more of Tomie de Paola's books, including The Legend of the Poinsettia and The Story of the Three Wise Kings, and Merry Christmas, Curious George.

Snuggled up with my bambini reading these books makes for some of my most favorite times.  I hope it adds to their joy and understanding of the reason we celebrate Christmas.  I know it adds to mine.

Advent goodness

I am woefully behind getting up any Advent decorations, but we're still trying to observe a hopeful and expectant Advent.  We made St. Nicholas Day a centerpiece of the early days of the season.  This weekend we'll be trimming our Christmas tree and decorating our house (if our lad feels up to it), fitting as we celebrate the Third Sunday of Advent called "Gaudete Sunday" or the "joyful" Sunday, rejoicing as Christmas draws ever closer.   And for the third year in a row, we're enjoying The Very First Noel, an excellent animated video about the Three Kings' journey to Bethlehem.

The most important preparations are those that we make in our own hearts to receive our King of Kings at Christmas.

favorite authors: Tomie de Paola

One of our very favorite authors is Tomie de Paola.  "Prolific" is one way of describing his output, but "wonderful" and "delightful" are probably more descriptive (if somewhat more subjective).  He's penned and illustrated several books of a religious nature, among them one on St. Patrick, a few on the Blessed Virgin Mary, and several about Jesus, as well as those about ordinary people answering the call to everyday sanctity.  Some of our favorites among these are The Lady of Guadalupe, The Clown of God, and Christopher the Holy Giant.  He also has written some based on legend (such as The Legend of the Poinsettia), and some endearing stories drawn from his own childhood.  Of these we've really liked The Art Lesson and The Baby Sister.  Then there are fun ones that answer burning questions like those about popcorn and clouds in the aptly-titled The Popcorn Book and The Cloud Book respectively.

These days we're enjoying Jingle the Christmas Clown, Pages of Music (written by Tony Johnston and illustrated by de Paola), and Tomie's Little Christmas Pageant, perfect timing too as our elder lad just appeared in his first Christmas program at his preschool. Mama wasn't prepared for the strong reaction of wonder and pride seeing her lad in his element on stage dressed as a Wise Man in an orange robe and crown.  Who knew?

I remember reading Nana Upstairs Nana Downstairs as a child (older than my own bambini), though at the time de Paola's name didn't stick with me.  When I checked it out not all that long ago to see if it might be one my bambini would like now (I decided to wait until they're a little older to read it to them), I could barely make it through the book without tears welling in my eyes thinking of reading this book with my parents and also of my own grandmothers, one living and one no longer living.

De Paola's simple, honest prose and his charming illustrations endear his books to parents and children alike.  It's no wonder he's an enduring favorite, not just at our house, but around the world.

St. Nicholas Day

Yesterday we celebrated the Feast of Saint Nicholas, patron saint of (among others) children, brides, and sailors, who serves as a sort of historical basis for our modern day Santa Claus. He was actually a saint born in the third century who became Bishop of Myra in what is modern day Turkey, perhaps best known for the example of charity he gave by providing the dowries for a family of young ladies too poor to wed otherwise.    

Celebrating this feast day is a significant part of our Advent observance, as it places a premium on the consideration of the needy at this otherwise extravagant (at least, in the worldly sense) time of year.  Every year since our elder lads' first Christmas, we select children our own children's ages from our parish church's angel tree to buy Christmas gifts for.  Last week we went shopping, and the lads helped select things they thought "their boys" would like, such as trucks or blocks or puzzles, as well as some sorely-needed things like hats, mittens, hoodies, and pajamas.  They also helped choose gifts for a girl our lass's age, like diaper supplies, some soft blocks, and jammies.  It wasn't easy at first to choose some fun-looking toys to give to someone else we'll likely never meet, but the thought of other children without such things resonated with the lads, and they soon were thinking of ways to show even greater generosity.

This "Saint Nicholas shopping" is an opportunity to discuss our responsibility to those who cannot meet their own basic needs, a responsibility we feel keenly.  The need for almsgiving knows no season, but Advent is an especially ideal time to answer that need with joy, and to help our children live the virtues of charity, generosity, and kindness. 

St. Nicholas Day isn't meant to be a mini-Christmas morning, but it *is* a day to celebrate the beautiful children in our lives.  Ours awoke to encounter a few little surprises throughout the day.  Some families leave chocolate coins, clementines, walnuts, or other yummy treats in their stockings.  Seeing as how our children don't have stockings (Mama wants to make those in her spare time, so they may be waiting a while.), I drew some on paper sacks for the lads' treat bags.  They were very understanding.

We have a few books about Saint Nicholas that we read each year.  One we particularly like is Santa, Are You For Real?  by Harold Myra (strange coincidence, the author's last name and the city of St. Nicholas's ministerial service).  It's a book my beloved's parents read to him and his brothers as a child, and seeks to answer the question head on in a way that keeps the focus on Christ and the magic of the legend alive.

Another is Saint Nicholas: The Real Story of the Christmas Legend by Julie Stiegemeyer, which despite its title is actually a fictional story.  This book's strength lies in its personification of the key players in the whole gold-in-the-stocking story.

As we journey forward toward Christmas, we hope to carry the spirit of Saint Nicholas with us, keeping in mind his devotion to Christ especially in children and the poor and needy.  Considering Christ's humble birth and His reassurance that whatever we do for the least of His people we do for Him, we know we can only fully experience His joy by also embracing His cross and His mission of love and charity.

a hopeful requiem

When I was a little girl, my grandmother and I would make Jell-o and custard for my grandfather.  She was about five foot two, and he was something like six foot four.  When I'd sleep over at their house, my grandpa would serve me Total cereal with Oreos on the side.  There were many nights I spent in a little inflatable boat next to my grandmother's couch (where she slept) on her houseboat.  She had some curious little scissors for cutting parsley for tabouli, and an irrepressible spirit.

My grandmother died when I was seven years old.  She didn't live to meet my beloved or my bambini, or to attend the piano recitals I gave in college, or to read this blog.  Somehow, though, I think she sees it all and knows probably better than I do how it all fits together to make the person I'm called to be. 

There's a picture from my infancy of my grandfather holding me while he plays bridge.  The expression on my face would seem to indicate my disdain for the cards he'd been dealt.  A few years later, he watched me ride a bicycle from the back of Wal-Mart (maybe it was TG&Y) to the front -- sure I couldn't do it, so he said  (I think I was five or so), but probably not surprised when I did.  My grandfather saw to it that I had my first set of golf clubs when I showed an interest in playing -- not just driving the golf cart when he played.  He died when I was fifteen.  I drove his car for a while after I turned sixteen (and after we aired it out really well, though it still retained a certain humidor ambiance).   I wonder what he would have said to my beloved upon meeting him for the first time or learning of our marriage plans.  I have no doubt he'd have been beaming with pride at our wedding.  I'm sure he was.  I just couldn't see him. 

Sometimes I catch a whiff of tobacco or spot a Jell-o box in the grocery store and think of them.  There are countless other memory triggers that bring them to mind.  Then it's like they're right here with me.

My Chicago grandfather recorded the telephone conversation he and Grannie and my father (their son) had when I was born.  My dad and I made many trips to be with him during the illness that ended his life too soon when I was five.  These trips and many afterward allowed me to forge the deep connection I have with my family members who live so far away.  There are times when I catch a glimpse of him in my father.  Grannie sees it, too.  And my lads love some of the funny little songs my dad's dad cooked up in jest, as was his inclination.  They spring to my mind at the most opportune times and serve to bring some levity to a situation (sometimes sorely needed if sleep has been in short order that day).

I heard my Aunt Robin's laughter emanating from my sister last week.  When I said to my mom, "she sounded like Aunt Robin just then!", my mom nodded her head emphatically in agreement.  "I know!" she said.  

And then there is my college friend Jake, who passed away nearly two years ago after a ten year battle with cancer.  Many of the quirky little phrases and mannerisms I sometimes employ come from him.  He stood backstage along with another close friend of mine at my junior piano recital hearing (given for the piano faculty to determine my readiness -- or not -- to perform the recital as planned), came to visit me when I worked for the orchestra, and taught me much about appreciating friends, the gift of the present moment, how to make popcorn on the stove, and the importance of laughter. 

I think about these family members and friends who have departed this life, as well as those of people close to me who surely miss and think of their dearly departed as much as I do.  To have lost them in this life is cause for sadness and grief.  To think of them now beyond the reach of pain or struggle and able to watch over us from above gives me even greater hope and peace.  Sometimes it seems their presence is palpable.  It is in the sights, sounds, and smells that summon up their memories.  I hope and trust I will see them again one day. 

On the liturgical calendar, today is All Souls Day.  We honor our dearly departed loved ones today, praying for God's mercy upon their souls, and for their eternal happiness with Him in heaven. 

So for these dear ones and those I haven't mentioned here, I pray
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed,
through the mercy of God, 
rest in peace.

Amen.

our family Litany of Saints

My least favorite, overly-secularized holiday behind us, we celebrate with hope and joy the feast of All Saints Day.  In our Christian tradition, this day serves as one to honor the saints -- that is, those who are in heaven -- both those given the title of "saint" on Earth and those known to God alone.  

We can think of the saints as friends outside of this life. They may not be living in the sense that we can see and touch them, but they *are* living.   And more importantly, they can pray for us.  Thus, we ask their intercession and trust that they include us in their prayers to God the Father.

As a liturgical musician, one of the most profoundly moving experiences of my service has been the musical praying of the Litany of the Saints, asking for God's mercy for our sinfulness and seeking the prayers of the Blessed Virgin Mary, her husband St. Joseph, and a host of holy men and women named saints, prophets, patriarchs, and martyrs.

Some saints by circumstances of their lives or virtue of their particular accomplishments have been named patron saints of certain groups of people, places, or life events. 

For our family we have crafted our own litany of saints.  Whether by virtue of their status as patrons of particular people in our family or attributes one or several of us possess (or hope to), we seek their prayers:

*Mary our mother, Queen of Peace
*Good Saint Joseph, patron of (among others) fathers, husbands, protectors; "a righteous man" (Matthew 1:18)
*St. Monica, patron of wives
*St. Nicholas of Myra, patron of (among others) children
*St. Gerard Majella, patron of expectant mothers
*St. Catherine of Siena
*St. Gianna Beretta Molla
*St. John Bosco, patron of (among others) boys, students, and young people
*St. James (the brother of John)
*St. Francis de Sales, patron of (among others) writers and educators
*John Paul the Great (his cause for canonization is underway, but not yet complete; still we trust he can offer his prayers for us)
*holy saints and angels
pray for us

Just as we ask for the prayers of and even advice from loved ones here on Earth, so we do of the saints in heaven.  We hope to emulate their particular qualities of holiness in our quest for everday sanctity.  God willing, we will one day be counted among them in heaven.

someone to watch over me

Today the Church celebrates the Feast of the Guardian Angels.   The time I spent as director of liturgy and music fostered within me a deep love of the Church's liturgical calendar, and it's something I strive to incorporate into my daily life -- the feasts of Christ's life and that of his mother Mary's, the lives of the saints, and the seasons of the Church year.   Today's Gospel reading makes direct reference to the guardian angels:

“See that you do not despise one of these little ones,
for I say to you that their angels in heaven
always look upon the face of my heavenly Father.”
-- Mt 18:10

 I've always had a sort-of latent belief in my guardian angel.  I mean to be more purposeful in this belief because, after all, our faith teaches us that "[b]eside each believer stands an angel as protector and shepherd leading him to life."   Attributed to St. Basil; the Catechism of the Catholic Church #336. 

As a wife and mother, I recognize my guardian angel and those of my husband and children to be some of my greatest allies and helpers in the daily care of my loved ones.  I can't take credit for this realization; it came by way of a podcast I like to listen to hosted by a deacon of the Catholic church and his friend, a Catholic wife & mother (who happens to be a friend of one of my favorite bloggers, the Pioneer Woman, but I digress).  If only I can manage to call them to mind upon my waking in the morning (easier said than done, depending on how well everyone has slept -- this simply means I must continue to practice and pray) and enlist their protection of us all.  I know their protection is there regardless of my asking for it; my realizing this and believing in its actuality requires a deeper faith and surrender on my part. 

As part of my faith formation, my parents taught me about my guardian angel.  Since I've become a parent, we've had some conversations about the tangible help our angels can be to us in caring for our bambini.

My mom likes to tell me of a conversation she and my dad had with a longtime close family friend about the name of someone's guardian angel being the first name that comes to mind when you think of said person's angel.  I think my mom said something about not knowing her angel's name, to which our friend had a prompt and sure response: "Clare."

My mom didn't quibble with him. 

Angel of God, my guardian dear,
to whom God's love entrusts me here: 
Ever this day be at my side, 
to light and guard, to rule and guide.