Our parish does the kids' First Reconciliation on a weeknight in January. I sometimes have flexible hours at work, and managed to make this one an early release day. It was a gift, those extra 2 hours to prepare.
The day also happened to be our youngest son's birthday! So my mom had come to visit, for both events. She volunteered to watch the 2 year old and let us take the 7 year old for Confession to focus. Which felt odd... but was nice. A gift. (Even if older brother complained that the younger was missing ALL THE IMPORTANT STUFF and it wasn't fair.)
My husband got out of work on time, and traffic wasn't bad, so he arrived before the service started. Celebrating with the man who forgives my everyday impatience and selfishness, cementing a relationship over 16 years in the making: gift, gift.
At the priests processed in, I realized we knew five of them. All good men. All give good advice. All knew my family, even if just a little bit. Gift, gift, gift.
Midway through the service, I saw the director near the altar, helping kids light candles. I realized (again) how if I hadn't switched jobs last year, that would be me: helping all the kids. I felt a surge of appreciation for this director, who was both competent and kind, who worked hard to arrange for this sacramental moment for us. Gift.
Then I relaxed again, able to ignore everyone and just focus on my boy. He looked all spiffy in his white shirt and bow tie, looking older with his recent haircut. He was in line for the candles, and when he looked back and saw me, his face broke into a joyful grin. He flashed two thumbs up, then jammed his hands into his pockets and turned back toward the altar. A joyful, bucket filling, priceless gift.
As I headed to a confessional line, a mom I am just getting to know stopped for a whispered pleasant exchange. A new friendship is always a gift, but especially when a move has other friends so far away.
Time was running out, but my preferred priest's line wasn't going anywhere. I saw an empty line and quickly switched, registering too late that I usually never go to priests with whom I work. I was extra nervous, he was extra kind, understanding and merciful. Gift.
Absolution after tears, the releasing of heavy 'stuff' ... the grace of God poured out, and peace flooding my every cell: all visible gifts of invisible love.
Afterwards, ice cream with the whole family, celebrating life and forgiveness and each other: true gift. May we come back to this experience seventy times seven, as many times as it takes to keep our family together, stronger, gift for each other and grateful to the One, True, Living God for making it all possible.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Refugees and Advent and Second Graders, oh my!
The news has been filled lately with refugees. I've been involved in a few intense conversations about it, both in person and on line. (My main frustration being the misuse of the word 'refugee' - and the resulting misunderstanding of the reality of the violence these folks are fleeing, and the process of entering the US as a refugee. Followed by how we can let fear restrict our compassion. But that's a whole other conversation.....)
In any case, during prayer I was reflecting that perhaps these conversations aren't the best use of my passion about it -maybe I should be DOING something. I started wondering HOW I could get involved, and how it (whatever it is) could involve my family.
Then the holidays hit. We traveled long and far for Thanksgiving week, and I kept offering up any discomforts for refugee families. Baby crying because he's strapped in a car seat too long? Awkward family conversations? Not enough time to visit everyone I'd like? All seriously first world problems. And so very different from what's happening around the world. And what happened 2000 years ago...
Which brings us to Christmas. Or Advent, actually. We're still "in transition" from a move, and have most of our personal stuff in storage. (I thought we'd be unpacked by now, but not so.) We've got nuttin' for the season. I've been thinking about all the Advent/Christmas traditions in light of what's happening in the world. I know we need to do something, but I'd like to keep it more subdued, in a tiny show of solidarity with refugees.
While I'v been praying about it, I recently heard a song about a mom needing a break and a reminder about the season: I need a Silent Night. Perfect reminder to scale back. Make room for something else. It reminded me of one of my favorites: An African Christmas.... it's both beautiful and sad that 20 years later, the lyrics are still appropriate.
What are we making room for? Jesus. Not a baby Jesus we expect, made out of white plastic and ready to bless whatever we do... but a Divine Person, who surprises us by being present in the most unlikely places... I became determined to have a GREAT Advent, focusing on all sorts of activities to point us toward the *real* meaning of the season....
Then I ran across this post, about "unrealistic expectations" during Advent. And this one about puzzles and Adoration. And I remember reading a wise priest who said that real Christianity isn't about merit badges, but allowing God to work within us.
Today's problem with Advent is a bit like everyday life: too much to do/see/be. An overwhelming number of choices are before us: which is the best? If I commit to this, do I miss out on something better? Yes, there are Advent calendars and wreaths and songs and events and... all sorts of holy stuff. But in the end, it's just more stuff. Tools, if you will. What we really want to be focused on is Jesus... his call to love our family, our neighbors, our enemies. And once again, I feel inadequate about explaining something I barely grasp to my kids.
Part of our preparations for Christmas involve remembering past holidays. The 7 year old stopped me one afternoon: "hey, Mom, remember that Christmas that Uncle Steve drove his motorcycle for 2 days to visit us?" I said yes, with a lump in my throat since my brother died almost 3 years ago. K had a far off look in his eyes for a moment, nodded and said "those were good times" before turning to go play. And as I stood in the middle of the kitchen, watching his back disappear into the hallway, I thought: I don't have to explain anything at all to him. By the grace of God, he knows all about Love.
In any case, during prayer I was reflecting that perhaps these conversations aren't the best use of my passion about it -maybe I should be DOING something. I started wondering HOW I could get involved, and how it (whatever it is) could involve my family.
Then the holidays hit. We traveled long and far for Thanksgiving week, and I kept offering up any discomforts for refugee families. Baby crying because he's strapped in a car seat too long? Awkward family conversations? Not enough time to visit everyone I'd like? All seriously first world problems. And so very different from what's happening around the world. And what happened 2000 years ago...
Which brings us to Christmas. Or Advent, actually. We're still "in transition" from a move, and have most of our personal stuff in storage. (I thought we'd be unpacked by now, but not so.) We've got nuttin' for the season. I've been thinking about all the Advent/Christmas traditions in light of what's happening in the world. I know we need to do something, but I'd like to keep it more subdued, in a tiny show of solidarity with refugees.
While I'v been praying about it, I recently heard a song about a mom needing a break and a reminder about the season: I need a Silent Night. Perfect reminder to scale back. Make room for something else. It reminded me of one of my favorites: An African Christmas.... it's both beautiful and sad that 20 years later, the lyrics are still appropriate.
What are we making room for? Jesus. Not a baby Jesus we expect, made out of white plastic and ready to bless whatever we do... but a Divine Person, who surprises us by being present in the most unlikely places... I became determined to have a GREAT Advent, focusing on all sorts of activities to point us toward the *real* meaning of the season....
Then I ran across this post, about "unrealistic expectations" during Advent. And this one about puzzles and Adoration. And I remember reading a wise priest who said that real Christianity isn't about merit badges, but allowing God to work within us.
Today's problem with Advent is a bit like everyday life: too much to do/see/be. An overwhelming number of choices are before us: which is the best? If I commit to this, do I miss out on something better? Yes, there are Advent calendars and wreaths and songs and events and... all sorts of holy stuff. But in the end, it's just more stuff. Tools, if you will. What we really want to be focused on is Jesus... his call to love our family, our neighbors, our enemies. And once again, I feel inadequate about explaining something I barely grasp to my kids.
Part of our preparations for Christmas involve remembering past holidays. The 7 year old stopped me one afternoon: "hey, Mom, remember that Christmas that Uncle Steve drove his motorcycle for 2 days to visit us?" I said yes, with a lump in my throat since my brother died almost 3 years ago. K had a far off look in his eyes for a moment, nodded and said "those were good times" before turning to go play. And as I stood in the middle of the kitchen, watching his back disappear into the hallway, I thought: I don't have to explain anything at all to him. By the grace of God, he knows all about Love.
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