I don't believe anything in life is a coincidence. I am currently reading C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters, and am finding his words to be immensely profound. In fact, he was a genius or divinely inspired or both. The "letters" are supposed to be written from one of Satan's demons to another younger, more junior, demon. He is giving him advice on how to turn a human being's heart away from God - or as he calls Him the Enemy. They are fascinating because I see some of myself in them, people I know, and society at large. We all go through periods in life when we purposely turn away from God or we turn away sprung from apathy or ignorance.
As a society, I see signs everywhere of more and more people turning away from Christ and his Church and towards a more muddled type of "spiritualism". People are wanting to pick and choose what they believe. And you can hardly blame the human being for wanting to do this, as we are programmed to desire freedom. We, as Americans, grow up knowing our freedoms and rights and we will fight for them - as our ancestors did. However, when it comes to Christ's Church, there is one...and we are called to submit. That's a tough one for a lot of people, thus the venture into the murky waters of empty promises on behalf of preachers with no authority and new age "spiritualism".
Christ is always calling us. He wants us to be near Him...spending time with Him. How can we if we clutter our lives with the "busy"ness and the noise. Think about how much noise we listen to during a day. It may occur in the form of your job, the traffic outside, your neighbor's lawn care (or lack of it), your pets, your phones, your television, your computer, conversations with friends and family, etc. How can we hear Christ's calling if we are listening to so many other things? There is a bit in the "Letters" about how much Satan has a hard time when we as humans are in a quiet space and are giving ourselves completely over to God...just listening. It is in the quiet that we hear God's answers and we feel Christ near us.
Where else better to be quiet with Christ than in adoration? As Catholics, we are the only Christians on the planet lucky enough to actually sit with our Lord in adoration. His presence is immediately felt the moment you walk into a church or chapel where the blessed sacrament is exposed. The church will be silent. There will be others in there praying. Jesus is wholly there for each of them...and for you. I never walk out of adoration feeling more confused or sad or alone. I always walk out feeling renewed, inspired, and not alone. He is with us and He is always calling us. It is up to us to use our free will to turn to Him and tune out the noise. Demons want us to listen to the noise because it distracts us and pulls us farther away from our Father's home. I ask that every Catholic find out the hours of adoration at your local parish and spend time with our Lord. Spend time in the quiet. Listen. Listen to what's in your heart because God is there. Jesus will be with you in that chapel or church - completely present. What a gift our Church has for us - the followers of Christ. Take the gift this Lenten season. You will not be sorry. In Matthew's account of the Agony in the Garden (Mt 26:36-46), Jesus brings his disciples with Him to watch over Him while He prayed. When He was done praying, He found them all asleep. He said to Peter, "So you could not keep watch with me for one hour?" Jesus is calling you to be awake, to be in the quiet, and to listen to Him.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
What Else Can A Mom Give Up This Lent?
I have been racking my brain for days now over what I would give up for Lent. I would like to say weeks instead of days, but I would most definitely be lying as I've only just been in survival mode the last few weeks since the birth of our fourth child. So, for days I have had a difficult time coming up with my answer. Today was Ash Wednesday and instead of continuing to find that answer, I decided to ponder why I was having such a difficult time. I couldn't remember a year when I had so much trouble coming up with what I would give up.
After picking up my son from his preschool classroom today with my two year old son holding one hand, my preschooler holding the other, and my baby girl strapped to my chest, I slowly managed to make my way into the parking lot and towards my car. Of course just getting halfway there took us easily ten minutes because as any mother of boys knows, you have to let them walk across every curb like it's a high wire act and then watch them jump off with wild zeal while holding your breath that no one will end up in the emergency room. While in the parking lot, I ran into not one, but three friends who all were there to attend the Ash Wednesday prayer service which had just begun at our church. I, of course, denied myself that experience because the thought of being in a quiet church with a five year old who might blurt out that he's bored, my two year old who might scream for no particular reason, and my newborn who might suddenly cry from gas pains or needing to be nursed...well, let's just say it wasn't an option for me today.
My friends made their way into the church and I continued on our journey to the car. By the time we were arriving at our final destination, I saw everyone coming back out of the church with ashes on their foreheads. I must admit, I looked at them all with such envy. "Look at all those people without little ones in tow who can just walk into the church so carefree and receive such a blessing." Well, I thought God surely recognized my sacrifice and I'd try to attend next year. Just then, my friends came out and told me that our priest was still giving out ashes in the church and I could just go in to receive them. It was like you had told me they were handing out the winning lottery ticket inside the church. I made a beeline for the doors, and well, you know how fast I was moving with a little one on each hand and one strapped to the front. We went as fast as we could and by the time I opened the doors to the church, it was empty. My lottery ticket had been given away. Another friend came around the corner and said, "Katherine, Father is giving ashes in the courtyard." We made our way to the courtyard and there he was. He blessed all of us, even baby girl in the front pack. I left our church with my lottery ticket on my forehead for all the world to see. I was a happy girl!
Driving home, I still pondered why I was having such a hard time coming up with my one "thing" I would "give up." And then I thought about my experience just trying to get to my car and then to get our ashes. I realized that mothers constantly give up of themselves on a daily basis. And when we have newborns in the house, it is difficult to even imagine how much more we can possibly give up of ourselves. I have given up my sleep, long showers, eating while sitting, my ability to keep my shirt clean all day, my youthful body, a clean house, and sleeping with my husband in the same bed (as he always ends up moving into the guest room for the first four months of our baby's life). We give our lives to our children and most parents would say (once their children are grown and gone) they'd do it again and again.
Even though we give up much, I am reminded that God calls each of us to be saints. I know there is more that I can do. I think I'll start by doing something nice for my church's office staff and priests, as they did so much for me in preparation for our Walk for Life. I will try to pray at least one decade of the rosary for all the women in the world who are contemplating abortion that they choose life over death and that their minds are turned towards the love their child will bring. I will pray for my family more - especially my parents and sister with whom I have no relationship. I will pray to St.Michael the Archangel for strength. And I will pray that I only show love, compassion, and patience towards my children and husband. Lent is about being in the desert, about living through Christ's Passion. There is nothing I can do to measure what He has done for me. At this extremely demanding and busy moment in my life, I will try to tackle this Lenten plan and adhere to it...as if my life depended on it. Please pray for me.
After picking up my son from his preschool classroom today with my two year old son holding one hand, my preschooler holding the other, and my baby girl strapped to my chest, I slowly managed to make my way into the parking lot and towards my car. Of course just getting halfway there took us easily ten minutes because as any mother of boys knows, you have to let them walk across every curb like it's a high wire act and then watch them jump off with wild zeal while holding your breath that no one will end up in the emergency room. While in the parking lot, I ran into not one, but three friends who all were there to attend the Ash Wednesday prayer service which had just begun at our church. I, of course, denied myself that experience because the thought of being in a quiet church with a five year old who might blurt out that he's bored, my two year old who might scream for no particular reason, and my newborn who might suddenly cry from gas pains or needing to be nursed...well, let's just say it wasn't an option for me today.
My friends made their way into the church and I continued on our journey to the car. By the time we were arriving at our final destination, I saw everyone coming back out of the church with ashes on their foreheads. I must admit, I looked at them all with such envy. "Look at all those people without little ones in tow who can just walk into the church so carefree and receive such a blessing." Well, I thought God surely recognized my sacrifice and I'd try to attend next year. Just then, my friends came out and told me that our priest was still giving out ashes in the church and I could just go in to receive them. It was like you had told me they were handing out the winning lottery ticket inside the church. I made a beeline for the doors, and well, you know how fast I was moving with a little one on each hand and one strapped to the front. We went as fast as we could and by the time I opened the doors to the church, it was empty. My lottery ticket had been given away. Another friend came around the corner and said, "Katherine, Father is giving ashes in the courtyard." We made our way to the courtyard and there he was. He blessed all of us, even baby girl in the front pack. I left our church with my lottery ticket on my forehead for all the world to see. I was a happy girl!
Driving home, I still pondered why I was having such a hard time coming up with my one "thing" I would "give up." And then I thought about my experience just trying to get to my car and then to get our ashes. I realized that mothers constantly give up of themselves on a daily basis. And when we have newborns in the house, it is difficult to even imagine how much more we can possibly give up of ourselves. I have given up my sleep, long showers, eating while sitting, my ability to keep my shirt clean all day, my youthful body, a clean house, and sleeping with my husband in the same bed (as he always ends up moving into the guest room for the first four months of our baby's life). We give our lives to our children and most parents would say (once their children are grown and gone) they'd do it again and again.
Even though we give up much, I am reminded that God calls each of us to be saints. I know there is more that I can do. I think I'll start by doing something nice for my church's office staff and priests, as they did so much for me in preparation for our Walk for Life. I will try to pray at least one decade of the rosary for all the women in the world who are contemplating abortion that they choose life over death and that their minds are turned towards the love their child will bring. I will pray for my family more - especially my parents and sister with whom I have no relationship. I will pray to St.Michael the Archangel for strength. And I will pray that I only show love, compassion, and patience towards my children and husband. Lent is about being in the desert, about living through Christ's Passion. There is nothing I can do to measure what He has done for me. At this extremely demanding and busy moment in my life, I will try to tackle this Lenten plan and adhere to it...as if my life depended on it. Please pray for me.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
My Baby Girl's Hands
Exactly one month ago today, I held my fourth baby in my arms for the first time. I finally held my baby girl...my daughter! I couldn't believe it when my doctor said, "Girl!" I looked at my husband and said, "What?" He said, "It's a girl, it's a girl." I cried so hard I'm pretty sure I should have installed windshield wipers on my eyes because even when they held her up, I couldn't see her through all the tears. I knew she was beautiful...and I knew she was mine.
I think every time a parent holds his or her child for the first time, they just want to study all those tiny details and memorize them - the tiny nose, eyes, cheeks, lips, eyebrows, eyelashes, and every hair on that head. I would close my eyes and try to see all the details in my mind so that I would never forget. As well as memorizing all those facial features, I know I always want to see my baby's hands and feet. They're so delicate; so tiny. Those fingers immediately close around my giant finger as if to say, "don't ever let me go." It is the sweetest moment to feel my baby's hand wrapped around my finger.
My newborn daughter's hands are a carbon copy of my own...only much smaller. My father always used to tell me that the first thing he noticed about me after my arrival into this world was my hands. He said he would hold me and just look at my hands and wonder what on earth I would do with those long fingers. He would dream of all the things I could do with my hands. It's ironic to me that he would love my hands so much because they are his hands - only the feminine version. And his hands were his father's. I remember my grandfather's hands very well. It is one of the things I remember about him most even though he passed away when I was very young. His hands were strong, but gentle. They showed his age and his life's work as a photographer for sure. His compassion and love for me as his granddaughter showed in his deeds - done with his hands. My father's hands looked just like my grandfather's, only the younger version. I loved holding on to my father's hand. I knew he'd never let me go.
So, my daughter has those hands now. I look at them and I see my family. I see myself, my father, and my grandfather. Like my father, I too look at her hands and those beautiful long fingers and wonder what she will do with them. What will she create with them? Who will she hug with them? Who will one day ask for one of those hands in marriage? Will she too look at her baby's hands and see her own?
I have been waiting to meet my daughter for a very long time...actually all my life. I have three beautiful sons, whom I love with every fiber of my being, but there is something unique to the mother/daughter relationship. I always knew she was in heaven waiting to join our family. I knew I needed to trust the Lord and His timing. She's finally here. I finally get to look her in the eyes every day and see a future for her. I finally get to hold her hand and tell her I love her, and I'll always protect her. I finally get to look at her hands and see a piece of myself that she will always have. Perhaps, when she is older and is gardening or writing or praying or cooking or sewing or hugging her own children, she will notice her hands and she will see me. Hopefully, she'll see me and feel in her heart the immense love I have for her, have always had for her, and will always have for her. God gave me this incredible gift. I am blessed. My family is blessed.
I think every time a parent holds his or her child for the first time, they just want to study all those tiny details and memorize them - the tiny nose, eyes, cheeks, lips, eyebrows, eyelashes, and every hair on that head. I would close my eyes and try to see all the details in my mind so that I would never forget. As well as memorizing all those facial features, I know I always want to see my baby's hands and feet. They're so delicate; so tiny. Those fingers immediately close around my giant finger as if to say, "don't ever let me go." It is the sweetest moment to feel my baby's hand wrapped around my finger.
My newborn daughter's hands are a carbon copy of my own...only much smaller. My father always used to tell me that the first thing he noticed about me after my arrival into this world was my hands. He said he would hold me and just look at my hands and wonder what on earth I would do with those long fingers. He would dream of all the things I could do with my hands. It's ironic to me that he would love my hands so much because they are his hands - only the feminine version. And his hands were his father's. I remember my grandfather's hands very well. It is one of the things I remember about him most even though he passed away when I was very young. His hands were strong, but gentle. They showed his age and his life's work as a photographer for sure. His compassion and love for me as his granddaughter showed in his deeds - done with his hands. My father's hands looked just like my grandfather's, only the younger version. I loved holding on to my father's hand. I knew he'd never let me go.
So, my daughter has those hands now. I look at them and I see my family. I see myself, my father, and my grandfather. Like my father, I too look at her hands and those beautiful long fingers and wonder what she will do with them. What will she create with them? Who will she hug with them? Who will one day ask for one of those hands in marriage? Will she too look at her baby's hands and see her own?
I have been waiting to meet my daughter for a very long time...actually all my life. I have three beautiful sons, whom I love with every fiber of my being, but there is something unique to the mother/daughter relationship. I always knew she was in heaven waiting to join our family. I knew I needed to trust the Lord and His timing. She's finally here. I finally get to look her in the eyes every day and see a future for her. I finally get to hold her hand and tell her I love her, and I'll always protect her. I finally get to look at her hands and see a piece of myself that she will always have. Perhaps, when she is older and is gardening or writing or praying or cooking or sewing or hugging her own children, she will notice her hands and she will see me. Hopefully, she'll see me and feel in her heart the immense love I have for her, have always had for her, and will always have for her. God gave me this incredible gift. I am blessed. My family is blessed.
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