My Granddaughter

Last summer seems a lifetime ago!

In September, on the feast of St. Pio, my granddaughter, Vivian Marie, was born. When we realized that she was alive and was going to live, at least for a time, there was such joy in the crowded birthing suite! Two sets of grandparents, two aunts, an uncle, cousins, and dear friends celebrated her birth with her parents and brother. Prayers had been answered and the glory of God was visible.

You see, Vivian Marie had a condition called anencephaly, in which part of her brain and skull did not form. Her chances of surviving birth were a little less than 50:50. But survive she did, and we were graced with 15 hours of miraculous life. I don't think it's hyperbole to say that her 15 hours with us changed our lives. Her parents gave their fiat to God, and agreed to accept whatever time God would give them with little Vivian. What's more, they did so with love and a desire to honor her life, however short it might be. I could not help but think of our Blessed Mother as I watched my daughter-in-law labor for hours, knowing all too well that she would be giving the life of her daughter to God, much as Mary gave Jesus to the Father.

Vivian Marie is our little lamb, my son and daughter-in-law's, my husband's and mine, all of us who loved and love her still. Certainly we, and hundreds of people on prayer chains far and wide, were praying for a miracle, were praying for Vivian Marie to be born intact, whole, and healthy. God had other plans. We who love her suffer, and yet we are called to unite our sorrow with that of our Lord in His Passion. "Not my will, but Thine," said Jesus to His Father.

I pray that God will do wondrous things with our suffering, with my daughter-in-law's and son's acceptance of theirs and Vivian's cross. My mother used to tell me that God loves more those to whom He gives greater sufferings. (She probably learned that from St. Terese of the Child Jesus.) Experiencing Vivian Marie's birth, brief life, and death has shown me a reason why. It is because He is thereby allowing us a fuller participation in His Passion, and therefore in His Life. That is indeed a great gift.

I give thanks for Kyle and Genece and Jonathan. I marvel at their love that was incarnate in Vivian Marie and shown to all through their actions, as they carefully honored her life and cherish her memory. God gave the Virgin Mary (and all of us) the joy of the Resurrection. I cannot but hope that He will--even in this valley of tears--give Kyle, Genece, and Jonathan a resurrected joy, a healing of their brokenness, and a peace which surpasses all understanding.

The Humble Moms Club

I've been telling Krazyglue that I'm tired. Beyond tired, really. First it was a week of testing for two of my kids that necessitated daily trips downtown. Then we went to the Midwest Fleadh in Detroit, where sessions last all night and into the morning. I was so looking forward to getting rest when Stand-up's diabetes showed its ugly side with high blood sugars and "No Delivery" pump alarms in the middle of the night, not once, but twice in one week! So is it any wonder...


That I found myself at the Vigil Mass last Saturday wearing these: mismatched shoes. I only noticed shortly after getting into the pew. After having walked in late, during the first reading. Into a church shaped in a semi-circle. Ahem. I immediately stuck one foot partially under the kneeler in hopes no one would notice my gaffe. I actually considered -- for a fleeting moment -- not going to Communion, so as to avoid my mis-clad feet being seen.

The worst part was when I pointed out my shoes to my dd, Little Miss whispered, "You did that yesterday [at morning Mass], too. That's why I was giving you that look." The eyebrows raised, grimacing, "What. Is. Up. With. You???" look. I don't know which was worse, that I was in a church with 1500 people with mis-matched shoes on, or that I'd been at Mass the day before, with only 100 or so, but that I'd socialized after Mass, including stopping off in the sacristy. And that I'd never ever noticed my faux pas!

It was humbling to say the least. I think I know how I did it, that is, how I put the wrong shoes on in the first place. But I'm not going to explain. I'm just going accept my place in the Humble Moms Club.

Did I tell you I was tired?

Divine Mercy Sunday

I haven't posted in a very long time. Not for lack of desire, but for lack of time. And I know, if blogging were important enough, I'd do it, but it is something that I can let slide without serious consequences. So slide it does when the day-to-day stuff, like broken hands, the 10 day flu, or car accidents happen. That sums up my winter quite nicely.

Oh, and then I joined Facebook. It's addicting. The best thing about Facebook is reconnecting with old friends, or connecting for the first time with my brothers- and sisters-in-law. But it is definitely a time-eater.

In this Easter Season we hear Mass readings from the book of Acts. Acts. Once Jesus died, the apostles were ready to go back to their old lives, but Jesus called them to leave it all behind and to continue His work. To act; to preach the Gospel to the ends of the earth. During Lent we're focused on prayers and acts of penance and charity. Then comes the Easter celebration, and whew! Lent is OVER, and the temptation is to get back to life as we knew it.

But then we have Saint Faustina relaying Jesus' request that we continue with His work. And we are given this gift from Pope John Paul II officially declaring the Sunday after Easter Divine Mercy Sunday. With the Church's blessing, more and more parishes are encouraging the devotion, reminding us to begin the Novena prayers on Good Friday. It's pretty easy to pray that day. But on each day of the Easter Octave there are new petitions to present to God along with praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. So we can't go back to life as it was before Lent.

In fact, the Easter Season lasts 50 days. I like to think of it as practice time for the new life in Christ we received at Easter. Hopefully by the time Ordinary Time returns, our lives won't be the same!

Something to Contemplate

My thanks to Nancy Carpentier Brown over at Flying Stars for bringing to my attention the Holy Father's

Angelus address

from the First Sunday of Advent. This was just what I needed to lift me out of my own limited view of time! How remarkable that we never feel that we have enough, even though, as Pope Benedict points out, "God gives us His time."

Our Lady of the Rosary

Today's her feast day! And today's Mass readings included the story of Mary and Martha, the one in which Martha is complaining to the Lord about her sister's lack of help, and Jesus tells her that Mary has chosen the better part. The story that gave me the title for this blog!

So what does that tell me, that on the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary the Church in her wisdom chooses to remind us that we mustn't worry and get overly concerned with tasks such that we miss listening to Jesus? It tells me that praying the Rosary is a wonderful way to become recollected and to prepare my soul to hear the Son of God made Man. It tells me that through the Rosary I will find the balance between the Martha and Mary within me. It tells me that my heavenly Mother wants to come to my aid! I feel so blessed to have Mother Church and Mother Mary!

The Prison Angel

Currently I'm reading the book of Mother Teresa's private writings, Come Be My Light. There is so much to reflect on in the holy nun's experience! It brought to mind another book by Mary Jordan and Kevin Sullivan that I read a couple of summers ago: The Prison Angel: Mother Antonia's Journey from Beverly Hills to a Life of Service in a Mexican Jail.

Admire her though we might, Mother Teresa's quest to serve the "poorest of the poor" is far beyond what most of us can envision. And her work having begun half a world away (from us in the USA) adds to the sense of uniqueness of Mother Teresa's call. But what about a mother of seven who grew up with every advantage, who, after two divorces, gives up everything she has to move into a Tijuana prison to serve? We can't distance ourselves from Mother Antonia as we do Mother Teresa because Mother Antonia, albeit most of us don't have Hollywood roots, is one of us: an American, a mom, a woman with a very imperfect life.

This is a book you should read for many reasons. Sometimes called the "Mother Teresa of Tijuana," the former Mary Clarke had a heart for service nurtured in her from when she was a little girl and would accompany her father on his charitable work. Now Mother Antonia, she is an inspiration not only for her ministry to brutal criminals and drug dealers inside the prison and out, but also because she embarked on this work full-time at the age of 50! She started a religious order specifically geared toward helping women in their later years realize a second vocation. There's a lot to contemplate here about what we do with our lives once our child-rearing and homemaking duties are no longer front and center.

Not only that, but Jordan and Sullivan's book presents a vivid picture of the plague affecting our southern neighbor--and us. The drug dealing just south of the border reaches into our country, as does the violence which comes with it. In our fair, free country, where the accused and prisoners have rights, it is eye-opening to discover that the poor in Tijuana's prisons are left to fend for themselves, even for basic necessities such as food and medical care. Mother Antonia works tirelessly to provide for them, and like Mother Teresa, embraces their poverty, living in a cell within the prison.

Married to one another, Jordan and Sullivan are Pulitzer Prize-winning reporters with the Washington Post. Their book has garnered 5 stars on Amazon in 21 reviews! Read it. Tell others about it.

We need a new motto...

They say "Cleanliness is next to Godliness," but right now, I wish the saying so well known was something like, "Modesty is next to sanctity"! A good friend -- a mother of a houseful of boys like myself who doesn't have time to read blogs, let alone write one -- laments that even the homeschool girls wear tight jeans and shorts, and it is driving her teen sons to distraction. "What are the mothers and fathers of those daughters thinking?!"

Indeed! Even though there are books about dressing with dignity, it seems that many a family is oblivious to what their daughters are to the young men they're around: near occasions of sin! Yep, you read that right! Her son was miserable the day after a teen picnic because he'd fallen. His raging hormones and virile body got the better of him. His dad was sympathetic, but had no answers, since one would just about have to give up socializing to avoid girls whose clothing is skin-tight, revealing, and/or provocative.

Now, maybe it's that the moms of teen girls don't realize that boys, too, have raging hormones. Maybe the dads don't want to admit that their daughters look sexy. Or maybe it's that families are getting so much exposure to our culture, that their sensitivity to the issue has been dulled. Perhaps the lack of suitable clothing has them stymied for a solution.

sigh But we can't give up! We can't just tell young men who want to be chaste, "Oh well." Yes, when they are grown men, they likely will have to learn to deal with immodest dress, even if they become priests! But we're talking about guys at a time in their lives when their bodies are in hyper-drive. If you've read any Theology of the Body, you know that patterns are being set in these years, too.

My eldest son has been very blessed: he decided while in college that it'd be neat to be able to say when he was married that he'd only kissed his wife. God gave him that grace! His brothers know this story, and I suspect some of them are hoping for the same grace. So it's not like I have sons who are running with the popular culture. Yet I have heard them, too, mention wishing that girls would not be dressed so immodestly. It is hard enough to keep one's ideals and live virtuously, without having the girls whose company you so enjoy torment you. Even unintentionally.

Read that again: Torment. In a previous life I spent time as a nurse on an adolecent unit. Teen boys are going to respond physically to your daughters if those girls' clothing hugs their new curves and draws the eye below the hipline. Oh, of course, most well-bred Catholic homeschooled boys will hide those responses. Most probably won't even reveal how they feel to their dads as did my friend's son. But don't kid yourself; young men are being stimulated by immodest dress, no matter how much they wish they weren't! No matter how much denial there is on the part of moms and dads, daughters and sons.

Do you really want your daughter to be a near occasion of sin?

This Church Should be Filled...

I was sitting at adoration yesterday evening in a nearly empty church, and wondering how could that be...

There are 12,000 people at my parish; how is it that not even 10%, nor a mere 1%, are present every Tuesday evening?

Oh, I know, people are incredibly busy and there aren't enough hours in the day for most of us. But, if people only knew, only knew Who it is Who calls to them from that monstrance on the altar! "You are the Christ," said St. Peter to Jesus.

Yes! It is Jesus the Lord who humbles Himself awaiting our adoration on altars and in tabernacles all across the world. Won't you oblige Him?

He is Risen! Alleluia!

What a glorious day! Great joy! I just want to share one thing from a terrific homily this morning, which Father Marty says he borrowed from Pope John XXIII. "On the third day, John and Peter run to the tomb. Easter morning finds the Church running toward Jesus!"

What a magnificent image, the Church of the new age running toward Jesus! May the good Lord see fit to spur me on always, ever running to Him!

The Monastic, Domestic Life, Part 2

What brought my attention to the article by Rev. Rolheiser was the following which was posted to my local homeschool group's email list:

What is a monastery? A monastery is not so much a place set apart for monks and nuns as it is a place set apart (period). It is also a place to learn the value of powerlessness and a place to learn that time is not ours, but God's.

Our home and our duties can, just like a monastery, teach us those things. For example, the mother who stays home with small children experiences a very real withdrawal from the world. Her existence is definitely monastic. Her tasks and preoccupations remove her from the centers of power and social importance. And she feels it.

Moreover, the demands of young children also provide her with what St. Bernard, one of the great architects of monasticism, called the "monastic bell". All monasteries have a bell. Bernard, in writing his rules for monasticism told his monks that whenever the monastic bell rang they were to drop whatever they were doing and go
immediately to the particular activity (prayer, meals, work, study, sleep) to which the bell was summoning them. He was adamant that they respond immediately, stating that if they were writing a letter they were to stop in mid-sentence when the bell rang. The idea in his mind was that when the bell called, it called you to the next task and you were to respond immediately, not because you want to, but because it's time, it's God's time. For him, the monastic bell was intended as a discipline to stretch the heart by always taking you beyond your own agenda to God's agenda.

Hence, a mother rearing children, perhaps in a more privileged way even than a professional contemplative is forced, almost against her will, to constantly stretch her heart. For years, while rearing children, her time is never her own, her own needs have to be kept in second place and every time she turns around a hand is reaching out and demanding something. She hears the monastic bell many times during the day and she has to drop things in mid-sentence and respond, not because she wants to, but because it's time for that activity and time isn't her time, but God's time.

This was apparently taken from an article in the Seattle archdiocese's newspaper, The Catholic Northwest Progress. Not wanting to post the material secondhand so-to-speak, I went to their website, but its search function wasn't operational. So I Googled and found the link I gave in my previous post to another article of Rev. Rolheiser's on the same theme. However, upon more reflection, I decided to post this quote, because I think it more directly addresses our lives as homeschooling mothers.

A second reason I decided to post this quote was reading Flying Stars this evening. Nancy C. Brown talks about accepting life's interruptions cheerfully! Note to self: I'm to live a monastic life, not a moanstic one!

The Monastic Domestic Life

About 12 years ago Kimberly Hahn spoke in Des Moines, Iowa. She related a story about holding the baby while trying to cook dinner with a toddler clinging to her legs and how she thought of the cloistered nuns going into prayer about this hour and said to God, "Wrong vocation, Lord! Wrong vocation!" She was kidding, of course. But we moms do have our moments!

So it was with great interest that I read this about how our lives as mothers at home can be truly monastic.

Happy Lent!

A Light to the World...

With yesterday having been the feast of the Transfiguration, I thought it a good time to link to this post on Maureen Wittmann's blog regarding the mountain top experience of Franciscan University.

More Wisdom

Speaking of The Cobbler, I was checking out his other blog, and found this post about why young men need their own retreats. I especially liked reason #7: "Because religion isn't just something we do to keep our moms happy, it's something we do because we know better than to try to be men without it." Wow, pretty cool insight for an 18 year old!

Prayer for Christian Unity

e are in the middle of Prayer for Christian Unity Week, which runs Jan. 18-25. At Mass on Saturday, Father talked about the need for Christian unity not only between Catholics and Protestants, but also among Catholics. I think that this post by The Cobbler on The Three Anachronisms blog addresses very eloquently how the Church is enriched by both traditionalists and charismatics, and challenges us not to write off one or the other.

(Clipart courtesy FCIT)

To Share or Not to Share...

I've been pondering Nancy Brown's post about Mother Teresa's outward cheerfulness even though she did not feel so inwardly, and in fact, for a long time she didn't feel God's presence at all. Nancy says she thinks this is saintly. In Blessed Mother Teresa, I have no doubt that it reflects heroic virtue.

But what about the rest of us? Are we to feign joy when we feel anything but? I will have to think more on this, but right off the bat, I'd say no. "The truth will set you free." I was once asked by a priest while on retreat to pick words I could live by, base my entire life on. That verse is what I chose then, and it is what I'd still choose.

Now I don't mean to say that we can never smile when we feel sad, never choose kind words when we feel angry. Indeed, a part of self-mastery is learning to do just that, to exercise our wills in favor of virtue. But I think that we also have to be wary of suppressing our feelings. Suppressed feelings don't just go away; in fact, they often erupt at the least convenient times or in much less than desirable ways. We have to be honest with ourselves, I think, about how we feel. And I do think Mother Teresa was doing that.

But here comes the thornier part: do we share those feelings? It might be virtuous to take a deep breath and carry on as though we were in no pain, had no anger, were not sad. But could it also be a gift to share with a friend our hurts, our fears, our doubts? If we are stoic, do we deny that friend the opportunity and gift of ministering to us in our need? Could it be a prideful thing to suck it up and act in a manner that hides our true feelings? Does that distance us from others, from our shared humanity with its times of frailty? Sharing what we truly feel inside is often a moment of exquisite vulnerablility and trust.

It is generally good to emulate the saints. But we also need to cultivate our relationship with Jesus, to ask Him what He wants of us, and to prayerfully discern that to which He is calling us. Which is to say, God could have been asking Blessed Mother Teresa to be cheerful in spite of interior dryness and desolation, whereas He might be asking us to reach out to others in our times of distress. We have to ask Him! And we have to be willing to listen for His answer, even wait on it.