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.
Monday, October 19, 2015
The Last Shall be First
As part of our church's Sacramental preparation, the kids get a subscription to "Magnifikids." I wasn't sure what to think about that, but my little guy was excited: "So, this tells me *everything* that's going on and what the priest says?" He was a little disappointed that he couldn't do the word search during Mass, but with a toddler in the family, it's not a good idea for us to introduce pens into the pews!
Though I'm blogging about the highlights (mostly) of this whole process, I don't want to give the impression we're a scrubbed up, modern holy family. First of all, I missed most of Mass because I was outside with a screaming toddler. (Which brings up a whole lot of questions about Communion and when it's okay to receive. I didn't, because it didn't feel right since I wasn't in the building. My husband thought it would've been fine in the sense of home visits and that I honestly tried to attend.)
Secondly, here's how our preparation went. After K. read today's Gospel, he asked me:
"Hey, Mom, do you want to be great?" Yes, I replied with a smile.
He laughed, "All right, then, you get to be MY SERVANT." A bigger smile and more laughter.
So I asked him: well, do YOU want to be great?
He thought about it for a moment (with a heart breakingly cute far off stare).
Then he says, "I want to be good, Mom, but not great. Just good." A small smile.
+++
He's been interested in money lately: earning, getting as gifts, saving, spending on toys. Last week, I was very interested to hear what he thought about the Rich Young Man Gospel. The priest had a great homily that told about how a monkey will grab something shiny in a small neck bottle, and be trapped there because he won't let go of his shiny treasure. It seemed to capture K's imagination, but I didn't push the issue about giving up everything for Jesus.
+++
These are hard teachings, in familiar stories. Am I ready to give up everything I think I "own" or "control" for Jesus? Do I really want to be great, or will I settle for "good enough"? And how do we raise a family, balancing safety and stability, with the Gospel, which calls us to continually give up what we've worked to build in order to rely more on God? Tough questions for me, let alone my 7 year old. So I'm not pushing him to be great. I'm not even joking about already being his servant. I am praying more, and more, for each of us to have the desire to be great (like the sons of Thunder) or perfect (like the Rich Young Man).
Though I'm blogging about the highlights (mostly) of this whole process, I don't want to give the impression we're a scrubbed up, modern holy family. First of all, I missed most of Mass because I was outside with a screaming toddler. (Which brings up a whole lot of questions about Communion and when it's okay to receive. I didn't, because it didn't feel right since I wasn't in the building. My husband thought it would've been fine in the sense of home visits and that I honestly tried to attend.)
Secondly, here's how our preparation went. After K. read today's Gospel, he asked me:
"Hey, Mom, do you want to be great?" Yes, I replied with a smile.
He laughed, "All right, then, you get to be MY SERVANT." A bigger smile and more laughter.
So I asked him: well, do YOU want to be great?
He thought about it for a moment (with a heart breakingly cute far off stare).
Then he says, "I want to be good, Mom, but not great. Just good." A small smile.
+++
He's been interested in money lately: earning, getting as gifts, saving, spending on toys. Last week, I was very interested to hear what he thought about the Rich Young Man Gospel. The priest had a great homily that told about how a monkey will grab something shiny in a small neck bottle, and be trapped there because he won't let go of his shiny treasure. It seemed to capture K's imagination, but I didn't push the issue about giving up everything for Jesus.
+++
These are hard teachings, in familiar stories. Am I ready to give up everything I think I "own" or "control" for Jesus? Do I really want to be great, or will I settle for "good enough"? And how do we raise a family, balancing safety and stability, with the Gospel, which calls us to continually give up what we've worked to build in order to rely more on God? Tough questions for me, let alone my 7 year old. So I'm not pushing him to be great. I'm not even joking about already being his servant. I am praying more, and more, for each of us to have the desire to be great (like the sons of Thunder) or perfect (like the Rich Young Man).
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
"Earning" First Communion
Today was the first day of school. Our oldest son started Second Grade, which is a big deal since... it's a "sacrament year." But his behavior has been so... challenging at Mass this summer. So last week, we had (for the 3rd time) a talk about Church behavior. Again, I said something along the lines of: "You're not making your First Communion just because you're in second grade, or because all your friends are. You've got to want it, to be ready for it, and to be able to show us you're ready." It was a good talk, I thought.
This week, his behavior at Mass was *much* better. He sang refrains, he prayed aloud the phrases he knew, he only tormented his baby brother 3 or 4 times. I complimented him after Mass, and he replied: "I know, Mom. I've got to be good at Mass so I can earn my First Communion."
NO! Oh gosh, NO. That's not how Sacraments work! They're GIFTS from God- freely given! There's nothing we DO that makes us DESERVE God's Grace!
Of course, I didn't say anything like that because I was so dumbfounded I just... stood there, with my mouth open. He skipped down the aisle to catch up with the rest of the family. And now, I've got a new problem on my hands:
how do I explain Communion
and encourage good behavior at Mass
without wrecking his idea of God?!
It's a rabbit hole question, of course, leading to other ones: what IS good behavior at Mass? If I get my family on board, how do I get our pew-neighbors on board too? *sigh* It's time for more coffee.
Monday, August 17, 2015
This Kid, this Week, this Blog
Hi. I'm Kristi, and my husband and I are cradle Catholics. I wouldn't say we're 'holy rollers'.... but we're familiar with churchy stuff. Mostly. Sort of. At least, we thought we were.
Then we had kids. Boys who don't sit still at Mass. One baby who liked to go "pffft" during the homily. Another that crawled under the pew, away from us. A toddler who has used a wall crucifix as a sword (only once, but still). He grew into a preschooler who waved at the priest he knew- during Mass. Then a Kindergartener who told us we could go to Church without him, because he didn't really need to go. And now a Second Grader, excited to go to Communion like his older friends and cousin did last year. Every week, he asks us: Is THIS the week he gets to eat with us?
So we're not perfect in any way, but we're taking religion seriously enough that we want to 'do it right'. I'm not sure what that means, exactly, or how to do it, so I've started this blog as a way to help me figure it out.
If you've got it figured out, please don't comment. But if you're working on it, like us, then comment away. Tell us what's worked with your kids- or what's failed. Share your story. We'll pray for each other, and we'll get through this. With God's grace, of course!
Then we had kids. Boys who don't sit still at Mass. One baby who liked to go "pffft" during the homily. Another that crawled under the pew, away from us. A toddler who has used a wall crucifix as a sword (only once, but still). He grew into a preschooler who waved at the priest he knew- during Mass. Then a Kindergartener who told us we could go to Church without him, because he didn't really need to go. And now a Second Grader, excited to go to Communion like his older friends and cousin did last year. Every week, he asks us: Is THIS the week he gets to eat with us?
So we're not perfect in any way, but we're taking religion seriously enough that we want to 'do it right'. I'm not sure what that means, exactly, or how to do it, so I've started this blog as a way to help me figure it out.
If you've got it figured out, please don't comment. But if you're working on it, like us, then comment away. Tell us what's worked with your kids- or what's failed. Share your story. We'll pray for each other, and we'll get through this. With God's grace, of course!
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