the ultimate gift

At the end of January we observed Catholic Schools Week, one devoted nationwide to celebrating the unique gift that is a Catholic education.  After much discernment and continued prayer, we made the decision a few years ago to enroll our bambini in a parish-based parochial school for a number of reasons, chief among them being this particular school's faithful witness to the message of Christ as evidenced by its commitment to teaching Gospel values by example and living them in love.   While the academics taught at the school are first-rate, to have the reinforcement of a community actively seeking to live in accordance with God's law as we tend to the formation of our children's souls -- always by God's grace and with his help -- is priceless.

This was not the easy choice for us, but we feel it is the right one for our family.  Our bambini are thriving at this school, and they show an ever-increasing love for the Lord and consideration of other people, which we understand are the Lord's two greatest commandments.  We hope and pray this trend continues as the bambini grow to maturity, but maybe someday one or more of them will, to be blunt, chuck it all either by a willful departure from the faith or by an lukewarm apathy that creeps up over time.   There are plenty of stories of such alumni.

The pastor emeritus of the parish school often still presides at school Mass.  More than once I have heard him speak in reference to the gift that the students are receiving in the form of their Catholic education.  He always goes on to stress the importance of the students taking ownership of the gift they are being given and making it their own, carrying it with them, nurturing the seeds of faith their parents, pastors, and educators are working to plant every day, and guarding against the temptation toward laziness in the all-important matter of faith.

We can go to great lengths in the name of passing the faith on to our children, including providing access to a Catholic education for them (whether that's at a Catholic school, a  public school supplemented by parish-based faith formation classes, or home school), being active in a faith community, and living each day visibly seeking the Lord's will, all of which we know can heavily influence how the bambini filter all the messages they hear and apply them to their own lives. None of it will guarantee, however, that our bambini will ultimately become men and women of faith themselves.  That gift comes from God himself, and has to be sought, claimed, and lived by each person.

I pray the Lord will fan into flame the sparks of desire within our bambini and all God's children to know, love, and serve him in this life so as to be with him in the next.

crickets chirping

As this virtual space has fallen dormant (again) over the past three months, a similar phenomenon has played out in real life.  For those faithful readers of mine (God bless them) who keep checking to see if this is the day I've clicked "publish" to post something -- anything -- since that last bit of good advice from the younger lad, I am grateful.  Thanks for sticking with me.  

***

Have you ever offered to help only have to your gesture ignored?  Not even ignored, but maybe politely noted, then not acted upon?  

This has happened to me more than once, and for the most part I've been able to cultivate a certain detachment that if verbalized would sound something like "here's what I'm offering.  You don't want it?  Fine.  Moving on..."

I've struggled to maintain this detachment recently when, once again, I offered to help when I saw that I could.  For whatever reason, what I was offering wasn't what the other party was looking for.  They didn't come right out and say it; they thanked me but then didn't get back to me on the offer for a while.  Maybe they didn't want my help.  Maybe they forgot.  Maybe they figured the offer stood (which it does). 

Maybe it wasn't about me at all.  

As I stewed in my juices cooking up reasons why I wasn't hearing back on the offer, I began to have an awareness that I was making it more about me than about the gift I was offering, which I truly meant as a gift.  Once I had this realization, I began to think more about my reasons for making the offer.

Was it to fill a need I saw?
Definitely yes.

Was it to fulfill a need of mine?
Yes to this also.

Was it to draw attention to myself?
I hate to think so, but maybe a little, given how much I'm letting it bother me.

In light of this last less-than-flattering thought, I began to pray for the grace to let go of any ambition I may have had lurking behind the offer (which I earnestly made with a sincere desire to help) and leave it all up to the Lord.  Maybe it just wasn't God's will that they take me up on the offer.  If he wanted me to serve him in this particular way, I knew he'd make it happen.  If he didn't, then I needed to accept that and pray for wisdom to discern his will for me here and now. 

Waiting on someone else to respond to some gesture of mine leaves me open to the awkward silence of no response -- what some might refer to as "crickets chirping" -- as in quiet enough to hear those critters that give me the heebie-jeebies serenading their sweeties.

This goes for prayer as well.  While it may seem our prayers are going unanswered, that all we're hearing is crickets chirping, such is not the case.  The answer to prayer does not come on our time table or even in terms we expect.  Answers can be found, however, as we "keep turning the cards over" as my dad would say, as life unfolds day by day.

In the particular case I describe, I have had to level with the Lord by letting him know what he already knows, that I very much wish for something specific to happen, but that even more than that I wish to do his will -- even if it means something other than my desire being fulfilled in this particular circumstance.  I trust that all things will work out according to God's plan, in God's time.

temperamental, are we?

Navigating the murky waters of mothering four young, distinctive souls, I learned ago that no one method of approach works for every child. This is largely because every child is different, as nearly any parent of more than one child would acknowledge. Each child is unique and special, and each one is "wired" a little differently. This is the Lord's doing, as he has a specific plan and purpose for every life he wills into being.

With that in mind, I have been doing some reading (and re-reading) about the four classical temperaments and how to discern the defining characteristics of these temperaments in ourselves and those we know and love. I was first introduced to this idea which has its roots in ancient Greek medicine by a book called The Temperament God Gave You by Art Bennett and his wife Laraine. They've since authored The Temperament God Gave Your Spouse and The Temperament God Gave Your Kids. What I like most about these books is how the Bennetts take an ancient yet (one that many other researchers and theorists still utilize in their own work) and draw upon the writings of more recent sources as well as modern research in their application of Church teaching and the quest for virtue as a part of the Christian's journey toward heaven. 

Temperament is not the same things as personality.  Temperament is one of the factors in one's personality. Each of the four temperaments (choleric, melancholic, sanguine, and phlegmatic) has distinctive markers. Most people are a blend of one or two of the temperaments with one being predominant, but we can have characteristics of all the temperaments or cultivate skills that are inherent in a temperament other than our own.

Through the lens of faith we can think of these temperamental characteristics as the ways in which God crafted each of us in order to fulfill the purpose he has for our lives. We are not locked into the confines of our temperament's parameters; many other factors can influence our behavior. Our temperaments are simply how we feel about and react to people and situations by default. We can choose to behave differently, however, and sometimes we should.  Understanding these various factors is immensely helpful when it comes to tending to the temporal and spiritual needs of those entrusted to our care.

In a family, it's likely there are different temperaments interacting with each other.  God does this intentionally to help each member of the family, each with his or her own God-given identity and temperament, grow in virtue by strengthening both the things that come easily and those that do not. We are called to be patient with each other even as we challenge each other to overcome the weaknesses that are the flip side to our many positive traits, always mindful of the presence of Christ in each of us.

Each of us is a creation unique and precious to the Lord. We are not meant to all be the same, to handle things in the same way or experience life exactly as another person does. When I take the time to know myself better through prayer and discernment, including studying such time-tested ideas as the four temperaments in a faith-informed way, I am better able to be live each day as my true self, the one God created and calls me to be.

hit or miss

man your positions...

On our recent Labor Day weekend getaway to my parents' house, my sister introduced the lads to Battleship, the maritime warship game.  They were familiar with Battleship via the Wii, but the younger lad was fascinated with the version that he could hold in his hands and position the ships and pegs just so.  He grew so attached to the game that my dad let the lad bring it home with him.  After Mass on Sunday, the lad set up the consoles to play with his dad and brother, team-style.  Later in the day the consoles became laptop computers for the younger lad and elder lass to pretend they were typing on. The younger lass is our "grease man," able to retrieve pegs that fall into the hinge part of the game console when it's open with her tiny little fingers.

The more I think about it, the game of Battleship and its hit-or-miss song and dance routine are the perfect analogy for daily life with young children.  One minute they're planning something spectacular, the next they're quarreling.  Sometimes there are warning volleys.  Sometimes not.  If only I had a radar screen to steer clear of troubled waters.  At least I have a life jacket.

(not) helpless

A few weeks ago, wildfires blazed across a swath of land not far from my hometown.  While the town itself was not threatened, the countryside and the homes, pastures, and outbuildings dotting the land were.  Many people were evacuated when it became apparent that the fires were posing serious threats to their property (and persons).  Among the people affected were lifelong friends who are family to us.  They were notified of the danger as soon as it looked like the fires might threaten them, and they began to take precautions and make preparations to evacuate.  As the fires approached, they tried to protect their property by dousing it with water as long as electricity powered their water well.  Ultimately, their home was spared, though their neighbors were among the many who were not as fortunate.

With a decent amount of warning, those in the path of the fires worked with emergency personnel to combat the fires and try to minimize damage.  Many who were not directly affected stood at the ready, wanting to help somehow yet feeling utterly helpless in the face of convergent wildfires.  Those of us who don't live in the area anymore couldn't take in displaced homeowners or drop off provisions for firefighters or seemingly *do* anything but wait -- and pray.  We did both. 

I'm sure each of us has at one time or another felt helpless to make a positive change to a sticky or seemingly hopeless situation.  As a parent, there are plenty of times when I've felt helpless -- and I'm supposed to be the mom!  In the seven-year history of my motherhood, there have already been many times when I've felt unable to be the one to control steer a situation to a peaceful, happy ending.  This is the precipice of a slippery slope toward despair unless I channel the mounting stress and anxiety into prayer -- from basic utterances of distress and pleas for mercy to longer vigils of formal or stream-of-consciousness prayers on behalf of other people undergoing trials of whatever magnitude.  This move from figurative or literal hand-wringing to a posture of prayer is something anyone can do to help themselves or someone else. 

Senseless tragedies happen every day.  Natural disasters will have their ways.  Illnesses afflict us or our loved ones.  Things change in the blink of an eye.  We have no way of knowing what tomorrow -- or even today -- will bring.  When it seems we are helpless, may the Lord grant us clarity of mind to seek his assistance for ourselves or those around us, be they right here with us or off in some far-flung place.   The result may or may not be what we expect or desire, but with enough time, perspective, perseverance in prayer, and grace, may we eventually come to understand on some level how such dramatic events can be part of God's way of drawing us closer to him through circumstances that seem or are beyond our control.

Godsends

Following yesterday's post about taking necessary measures to ensure the overall health of a primary caregiver, I wish to backtrack even farther to two (almost three now) Sundays ago.  St. Paul is writing to the Corinthians, explaining the source of his strength in spite of some uphill battles he's fighting.  That source is the Lord's grace. 

"...My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."

--2 Cor 12:9

Were I to tally the number of times I felt unequal to the task of caring for four closely-spaced children, I think the number might be astronomical.  However could I, one person with two hands, meet all the simultaneous needs when flying solo?  Even trusting that the Lord wouldn't allow for circumstances that he and I couldn't handle together, the plain truth remains that I haven't grown any more limbs along with the multiple children to corral and hold, though I did have recourse to a third arm for a long time when each of our bambini was an infant. Plenty of times I considered it a Godsend.

As much as I may want to be everything to everyone, that's not realistic -- or even reasonable.  I'm just one person -- a sinful, imperfect one at that.  The young lives entrusted to my care need much more than I as one person can give them, but the Lord knows that and -- I trust -- makes up the difference between my hard-working best effort toward meeting the various needs and completing the fulfillment of those needs by his many conduits of grace. 

When I step back to take a long view, I am reminded that many people who the world would consider "weak" have accomplished amazing things by God's grace.  I'm not trying to be counted among them, but I do draw a lot of inspiration and reassurance from knowing that such has been the case.  May it be so in our circumstances as well.

While it may seem lofty, naïve, or flat-out foolish to believe that the strength I need to fulfill my God-given duties would come in the form of some nebulous and invisible Grace (big "G"), I've experienced it myself, I've seen it in action, and that's enough for me.

like riding a bike

A few times now recently I have warmed the bench of the piano at the Catholic parish where I had served as music and liturgy director before the elder lad arrived on the scene.  Going back to play the piano is at once easy yet challenging, comfortable yet awkward, as not only am I not exactly in practice like I was when I was playing several masses in one weekend, but also time has marched on for the people of that parish just as it has for my family and me.  Some things are as ever. Some things are a lot different.  In many ways, it's like riding a bike: it all comes back quickly once I settle down and get going.

Few things allow me a more direct route to that place of prayer in action like playing the piano at Mass.  It truly is a blessing and honor to be able to use this gift from God at his service.  Balancing serving him by playing at mass with serving him by serving my young family at home is something I'm still trying to discern and navigate.  I always envisioned my children nearby as I played the piano, either at home or church, somehow finding it completely normal for me to be doing that while they were doing something else.  It hasn't worked out that way.  Maybe the time for that is just now beginning, or maybe it has yet to arrive, or maybe the eventual solution will be somewhere in between...

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"

high five

 

This. Is. Sammy. 

Sammy. Is. A. Robot.

The. Younger. Lad. Built. Him. With. The. Lad's. Father. Brother. And. Papere. 

(that's robot language -- can you tell?)

We celebrate five years of life with the delightful younger lad, born this day (finally -- after *many* hours of active waiting).  The lad has always been a fun-loving, free-wheeling, highly-imaginative kind of kid.  He's  growing ever more into a considerate, compassionate, and loving boy.  He's a busy guy, with lots to act out from the stories he cooks up in his head, and he has big dreams for what is to come.

May the Lord bless you this day, dear lad, and every day, with an unfailing awareness of both His and our love for you.  We are so glad and grateful you are a part of our family.  You bring such richness, adventure, and warmth to every day.  God has big plans for your life, lad, and we're here to help you discern what those are.

We love you, young squire!

pray. hope. don't worry.

It's election day here.  Comparatively, today's trip to the polling place with the two lassies wasn't quite as eventful as this one.

In the face of what would seem like perfect hand-wringing conditions considering the state of affairs in this election year, I hope to apply what I've adopted (or rather, am *trying* to adopt day by day) as my approach to life in a nutshell:

1. Pray.  When I'm anxious about something, I mean to pray about it -- even if in the form of "Lord, I know you can see how anxious I am about this.  Please help me be receptive to the grace I know you supply for me to let go of this anxiety to make room for the peace with which I know you wish to bless me, and kindly guide my thoughts elsewhere."  Repeat as necessary.
2. Hope.  We are a people of hope.  All is not lost.  We have to hold on to this hope, not in a naive sort of way, but as a matter of faith. We are mistake-making humans living in a fallen world rife with suffering and selfishness, but each new moment is a chance to start fresh.  
3. Don't Worry.  Worry accomplishes nothing.  Worry is not the same as fear or genuine concern for a person or situation.  I might be splitting hairs here, but I'm nothing if not a stickler for semantics.  This is the reasoning behind my saying to my children -- for example and hypothetically speaking of course (ahem), "I am concerned that you or someone else could get hurt swinging from the rafters" rather than "you're worrying me!!" (and besides, the latter phrase gives any-kind-of-attention-seekers who would pull such stunts more power than they should have -- just sayin')

Now, I realize this might seem overly-simplistic.   Maybe it is.  Maybe that's as it should be -- or all it needs to be, because really who am *I* to think that I can have any kind of influence over the outcome of a given problem or situation?  I'm not the one who works things out.  That's the Lord's doing.  He works through me (when I cooperate) and others as they allow him to.  He sees to matters monumental and miniscule.  Everything happens for a reason, and we are each in our particular stations in life because he wills us to be.

The world/our country/our metropolitan area might be in a sorry state of affairs, but we are not doomed.

When we are faced with such circumstances, if we pray for wisdom, fortitude, and grace, then listen for the answer, we will know how to act. 

When we act as we ought by discerning God's will through prayer, we have reason to hope for the best.

When we have faith in the Lord to reconcile all things to himself and make all things new, we can dispense with worry.

Onward...

good night already

The nightly ritual of reading, prayer, and snuggling is a precious time, except when Mama is hoping for sleep to come to overtired bambini post haste both for their sakes and so that she herself can settle in for the night.  When things don't work out as hoped (as they often don't when overtired bambini are involved), Mama can get a little antsy.

I try to spend those (hopefully) quiet moments as the bambini are drifting off to sleep in prayer.  I haven't been very diligent about this effort lately, though.  When I struggle to get into that mode like a child fighting sleep, sometimes I imagine Mary the mother of Jesus either holding my hand or sitting beside her son Jesus, just as I do with my own bambini.  It can be a conduit to the prayer that I wish to offer.

If ever I can be a model of how to handle my own anxieties and reticence to submit to sleep, prayers, or some other healthy choice, I hope it will be in this area of prayer -- to pray always, trusting the prayers are heard, and settling myself down enough to listen to the responses (and prompts). 

And with that, good night.

sisterly advice

unsolicited advice to my sister starting college next week (and all those embarking on something new)...

Give it a chance.
Trust in the Lord.
Seek his will for you.
Keep the faith.
Say your prayers.
Listen for the answers.
Be the face of Christ to others.
Look for Christ in the faces of the people around you.
Take the high road.
Get some sleep.
Make your bed.
Be yourself.
Have fun.
Know you are loved!

the long view

In the midst of extreme close-ups and rapid fire attention-seeking maneuvers from multiple children, I try to detach myself in a way so as to take a long view.

Where is this all going?  What am I supposed to be learning from these people at this moment?  How is that going to affect what happens tomorrow?  Or next year?  Or ten years from now?   Or how our bambini ultimately come to treat themselves and those around them?

Finding that sweet spot of grace that is staying in the moment yet keeping it all in perspective is one of those holy grails of parenting -- of life, really, isn't it? 

Years from now there will be memories of family life both exhilarating and heart-wrenching that will stick out in my mind, as I'm sure there will be in each of our bambini's memories.  I pray the overall picture will be suffused with peace and the sure knowledge that Christ has been with us at every moment.

clearing the air

Invariably, I nullify the olfactory delights that linger in the air after baking double batches of muffies or breakfast cookies by later cooking something equally aromatic (in a different way) like a stir fry.  Afterward, the air quality takes a nose dive, as what was once aromatic and tantalizing is now just stale and stinky.

So on those occasions, I light a candle -- usually lavender-scented, as that's my favorite -- as I go about my other wind-down activities in the kitchen.  As the flame dances in the pool of wax, I offer the day's shortcomings with the candle's smoke floating heavenward along with prayers for the grace to do better tomorrow.

At our wedding, we chose a Responsorial Psalm with the refrain
Let our prayers rise like incense in your sight.  
May this place be filled with the fragrance of Christ.

Ancient as time and fresh as the start we will have -- God willing -- tomorrow morning, the failure to overcome our weaknesses necessitates an air clearing of sorts so that only the fragrance of Christ remains.  Lavender-scented candles don't accomplish that, but the symbolism of prayers rising like smoke helps this mama remember and be thankful for God's tender mercy.

domestic matters

Six weeks ago when Lent began, I had every intention of uniting the spiritual house cleaning exercises Lent facilitates with those of a brick-and-mortar house cleaning -- or rather decluttering/purging/simplfying/deck-clearing -- something like the Forty Bags in Forty Days concept.

Here we are with Holy Week underway, and I haven't reached the 40 bag goal.  I've been doing good to keep up with laundry and day-to-day housekeeping in the midst of allergies, illness, and general baby + toddler + preschooler + kindergartner care and feeding.

I guess that's all to say that I don't feel I've been overly ambitious about Lent. 

It is still my earnest desire and intention to filter through the material holdings of this domicile and pare down as much as possible, both from a spiritual perspective of not being inappropriately attached to *stuff* and for the collective and individual sanity of each person dwelling here.  When there's stuff out everywhere, I'm not the only one antsy.  Now I am more so, though, as the doe-eyed wee-er lass (one and the same as the raven-haired lass, except her hair seems to be lightening) is crawling and teething.

We go one day at a time around here.  Perhaps by week's end I will get some things accomplished toward the goal I set six weeks ago.  Maybe next year I'll be a little more prepared and proactive, but this year it's been about fostering loving actions, making the most of every day, and living out the resolutions I made as best I can.  God willing, this time next week we will be basking in Easter glory, hearts open to receive the graces God desires to shower upon us, with our house -- both the one with some ding-ed up baseboards *and* the intangible ones hidden in the silence of our hearts -- in order.

diamonds and purls

You think you know someone, and then wham! you find out you're mistaken.

Take my baby sister, who turns 18 today. She knits. Who knew?! Not me. But she does -- beautifully. She's learning to knit and probably knows what the term "purl" means without having to Google it.

That's not all. She writes. She cooks. She writes about cooking. She sings. She plays a fierce (in a good way) game of chess and is happy to teach her nephew the strategies she's honed over many matches. She is a multi-talented, ever more beautiful young woman poised to take on the world with a solid foundation and a retinue of people who love and pray for her every day.

It's been my delight to know the girl I used to call "Babycakes", and it's my honor to know the woman she is becoming.

I pray she will always seek the Father's will for her life, ever confident in his love for her as well as ours.

books the lads are loving

With stiff competition from Legos, dirt, trucks, the Wii, and the schoolday schedule, reading books with the lads is a little more challenging these days.  Sometimes they balk at the idea of sitting down to read with me when there are other diversions calling their names.  Still, I insist, and often as soon as I start reading aloud they snuggle up next to me to listen.  If I add color commentary or edit the text, the elder lad is usually quick to notice.

Along with fact- and picture-filled kid-friendly tomes on bugs, snakes, dinosaurs, and trucks, the lads are showing an increasing interest in comic books (or "graphic novels").  We hit upon a neat book called The Adventures of Loupio by Jean-Francois Kieffer, about a young orphan who befriends St. Francis of Assisi and his wolf.  The lad learns much about life from Brother Francis.  The comic-book style is engaging to young lads, and the Christian moral of the vignettes comes across in a most accessible way.   The book is published by Magnificat, which produces a monthly magazine containing the daily readings and prayers of the Church, along with morning and evening prayers from the Psalms in the style of the Liturgy of the Hours.

The illustrations in the Loupio book are reminiscent of those in Hergé's Tintin books.  These are classics of the comic book genre, inspiring many other comic book illustrators to come.  We've checked out a few of these compilations from the library, and the lads have been engrossed in the illustrations.

We're also working our way through some books by Jane Yolen starring Commander Toad.  We laughed our way through Commander Toad and the Planet of the Grapes, with all its corny grape jokes and references that will entertain the adult reading aloud to the children gathered around the kitchen table eating an after school snack (at least they did for me when I was in this situation).  Commander Toad and the Dis-Asteroid is rife with similar wisecracks.  Next on our list to read is Commander Toad and the Big Black Hole.  Bruce Degen's artwork reinforces the fanciful stories.  We've had his Jamberry in board book edition since the elder lad was a baby, and its status a family favorite is evident in the condition of our copy.

It might take a little more effort to get our lads to take time out from a day of fun to curl up with me and read, but I'm not giving up.  These fun books and others like them sure do help.

near miss

The sickening thud that results from a child on an uncontrolled trajectory that ends in collision with a hard surface is one of those unmistakable sounds that every parent probably hears at least once never wants to.

In the moments that follow such a calamity, there are questions coming rapid-fire.  Is she hurt?  Is she OK?  Is something broken?  Should we take her for x-rays? 

Please, Lord.  Grant me wisdom to know how to handle this situation.  And please hold me together so I can help her.  

I like to think that I'm pretty good under pressure at such times, but I know I'm toeing the line when one of my bambini is injured.  For example, the two-year-old lass took a spill off a window seat cushion this afternoon in the midst of an otherwise delightful afternoon of happy family fun time.  After that terrible sound, there came the cries of a little girl in pain.  She held her arm tightly against her side.  She had landed on it, and right away the area around her elbow began to turn purple.

I went running for some ice and Arnica Montana, a homeopathic remedy indicated for bruises, muscle soreness, and traumatic injuries that we keep on hand.  We refer to it as "bonk medicine".  We scooped her up and snuggled her close.  My beloved -- aka "Dr. Dad" -- fashioned a sling out of a tea towel and tucked some ice and a baby doll inside.  She could still move her arm without much pain, but we still worried and wondered.

After a little downtime she was back up and playing, using the arm with little noticeable difficulty.  She seems to be doing OK.  We'll of course keep an eye on it.

There have been a few other times when one of the bambini has been injured when I really wrestled to discern the need to seek emergency medical attention on their behalf.  (The younger lad can claim most of these.) After the dust had settled in each case, as I did today, I can't help but conjure up images in my mind of how that would play out, and it's never a good feeling.  What if it had been worse?  Oh, how I can work myself up over such uncertainties.

Scary though it may be to think about, there is little good to come out of fretting about things that haven't happened.  It's important to be prepared, because accidents happen.  We can take every reasonable precaution to secure our bambini's safety, but we can't keep them from ever getting hurt.

So I tell myself when I'm not holding a child in pain after falling just out of my arm's reach doing something she's done a thousand times before and likely will many more times to come.

Perhaps the day will come when we will need to summon help for some medical crisis.  God forbid something like that should happen, but if it does, I pray for the courage to be the strong mother the hurting child will depend on to secure that medical care as well as offer the comfort that only comes from Dr. Mom.

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.

real (if invisible). not imagined.

Our almost four-year-old younger lad tends toward the thinker/dreamer type.   Several weeks back he let me know that when he and his brother die, they will be imaginary.  I'm pretty sure my response in real time was a mixture of befuddlement and surprise, what with the din of the Wii in the background and all.  I think I said something like, "well, when you die -- as every person does -- your soul will -- we pray -- be in heaven with God.  You won't need your body anymore, but your soul will live on."  He wondered aloud what a soul was, but he wasn't really looking for an explanation beyond "the part of you that makes you *you* that God made to be with him forever" and changed the subject. 

We've attended two funerals for aunts in our extended family in the past couple of weeks.  I don't think I ever met the aunt for whom last week's funeral Mass was offered, but we went because she was family, and because it was Mass, and because there are fewer (if any) more worthwhile, constructive ventures than praying for each other -- especially for the souls of those who have passed from this life into the next. 

Except, going to Mass with young children isn't always a prayerful experience, as this example illustrates, but this position statement rationalizes.  That's alright.  

I thought of the lad's comment many times of the course of these two family gatherings, always intending to write about it here but not having taken the time to do so until today.  It being Ash Wednesday makes the timing seem appropriate somehow.  I digress...

Along with all the reasons I gave for our attendance, my beloved and I thought it was also important that our children be present at the funerals (the elder lad was in school the day of the second one, but the three littler littles were there) to help solidify the understanding, belief, and hope we have in the everlasting life Christ offers us.  The funeral liturgy is a beautiful aid in that endeavor and, in my personal experience, a great solace for those who are grieving.

The Scripture readings and prayers that comprise a Catholic funeral liturgy are by turns an acknowledgment of the sorrow we feel for the loss of our loved one, an expression of the joy we have by faith that that person is now with God, and a way for us to pray for the forgiveness of any sins our loved ones may have committed while in this life so that he or she may be cleansed of those and enter into eternal life.   It is (usually) Mass as we are accustomed to, with a few added elements pertaining to the person whose soul we are praying for.

Death is never an easy subject of conversation, but that doesn't mean we don't discuss it with our children (even if we might inwardly shudder at the prospect of being separated from each other by death).  They are usually the ones to bring it up, so we try to answer their questions simply and honestly. They know every living thing is created by God and eventually dies, and that just as each of us is born, so too will each of us die someday.  We don't know when but don't expect it to be soon, though we strive to live each day as the gift that it is. And though we don't always understand or find it easy to bid someone we love farewell, we hope that we will see them again someday and trust in God's care for that person until we do, even though we can't see him or her anymore. We believe they live on -- for real. 

Here we are at the beginning of Lent, the time of preparation for Easter when we ask God to create clean hearts in us, and to illumine the shadows in our hearts that keep us from him.  The culmination of this penitential season leads to Good Friday, the day of the Lord's passion and death, followed by his glorious resurrection on Easter.

There is nothing imaginary about the sacrifice of Christ for our salvation.  It's a weighty subject for anyone to deal with, but it's something we as a family will enter into together, so that come Easter morning we will have walked with Christ through death to new life.