The Catholic world has, of course, been abuzz with the news of our new Holy Father, Pope Francis. This is really the first time I have paid much attention to the selection of a new Pope. In fact, probably the first time I have paid much attention to the Pope at all.
What kind of a Catholic am I? A poor one indeed, I am the first to admit.
When Pope Benedict was elected in 2005, I was hardly what you'd call a practicing Catholic. I was aware of the new Pope, as most people in the world would be, through news reports and the like. But it didn't seem to mean very much to me. I never actually renounced my Catholicism, but in those days I was not attending mass and did very little to participate in my faith. I was like an outsider, watching with mild curiosity, but not feeling any real connection to the the new Pope.
I hadn't had much of a connection to his predecessor either. I knew who Pope John Paul was, I recalled hearing his name at mass, and if asked, I could have told you who he was. But I knew little about him. I grew up with a Catholic mother who took us to Mass, but my stepdad was very much not Catholic, so our faith was more or less reserved for church. It wasn't a part of our home life in very many ways, something I'm sure my mother wished could be different. But she had to walk a fine line with her husband (who is a good guy, don't get me wrong - just a sometimes-practicing Mormon), and he wasn't comfortable with much of her Catholic "stuff."
As a result, I didn't have a strong connection to my church - not the whole of the Catholic Church. I understood it on a certain level, but it didn't seem to be all that relevant to me personally. So I didn't think much of it when a new Pope was elected in 2005. I was busy changing diapers and wading through the newness of being a mother.
This time, however, I watched the process through a new lens. After the news of Pope Benedict's resignation, I was touched to read some of my favorite Catholic bloggers talk about their "Papa Bene." He meant something to them; he touched their lives with his words and his leadership. People connected with him, and saw him as not just a distant religious and semi-political figure, but a part of their larger family. Papa. What a lovely thing! I'd never realized how some Catholics looked with such fondness on the earthly head of our Church. It touched my heart and I found myself wishing for that sort of experience. Who would be my Papa?
I watched the announcement of our new Pope live online. I had no preconceived notions, no idea of who it may or may not be. I honestly couldn't have told you the name of any of the Cardinals anyway. So the news that they had chosen this Jorge Bergoglio didn't shock or surprise me. I simply watched. The EWTN commentators sure seemed surprised, and I suppose the only thing that surprised me was his age. I wondered why they had chosen a man rather advanced in years, after the resignation of his predecessor largely due to his age.
Reading about him in the ensuing days, there is much to admire in our Pope Francis. People are talking endlessly about his humility; but in a person leading an organization as large and ancient as our Church, humility is quite the virtue. I like his simplicity, his prayerfulness and his steadfastness in the face of opposition and criticism in his home country. He'll need a lot of that in the coming years.
I am one tiny, small soul in an enormous sea of Catholics, so what I think or how I feel about him personally doesn't matter much to anyone but me. But I hope that I will grow to feel that sort of affection for him that I so admire in other Catholics. I hope I can refer to him lovingly as "Papa Francisco." I do feel a certain joy at being part of "all this," this time around - for being an active part of the Church, for being close enough to feel that this matters to me. I love our Church and I pray for our new Father. I pray he is everything God needs him to be for us, in these crazy days.
Welcome, Papa Francisco. Welcome as our leader and our example. But welcome also, into my tiny little speck of the world, into my heart and my family.
Showing posts with label Church life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Church life. Show all posts
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Being open to life isn't only what you think
A few weeks ago, I was at mass with my three kids. Daddy couldn't be with us, so I was braving the pews with my young children alone (they are 7, 5 and 3). This isn't usually a big deal. My kids aren't perfect (naturally), but they are pretty well behaved. They're used to mass, they know what is expected, and most of the time, they are just fine.
Not that Sunday.
My boys asked to sit in the front row, but that was clearly a mistake. Often the front row affords them an unobstructed view of the altar and the priest and they wind up watching what is happening a little more - and squirming and making noise a little less. That day it simply meant the whole parish had an unobstructed view of my kids being monkeys.
I did my best to keep them calm and quiet. I'm certain it was clear to anyone watching that I was struggling with my kids, but I wasn't letting them run rampant by any stretch of the imagination. And really, they weren't that bad. They were squirrely, and talking too much, and my oldest son kept making my 3 year old daughter laugh. But I've seen worse.
We'd almost made it through the entire mass. I had successfully navigated potty trips, discarded shoes, attempts to twirl, tickle, and drop things, and had hustled us back to our seats after receiving Communion. Then, as I held my daughter in my lap, insisting my other two keep to their seats, someone came up to me (an usher, I believe), knelt down and quickly said, "Could you please move to the back of the church? Your kids are distracting people."
<Insert me with my jaw on the floor here.>
He walked away quickly, not even giving me a chance to respond. I was floored. Absolutely floored. Communion was nearly over (which means mass was nearly over), and my kids were seated. Yes, we'd had a challenging time that morning, but it wasn't as if I'd had screaming and crying children and I did nothing. The worst thing they did was giggle loudly a lot.
Tears sprang to my eyes and I gathered up my kids and all our stuff and high tailed it to the parking lot. I just wanted out of there. I was so hurt and humiliated. I felt as if everyone in church must have been watching me, judging me. I felt betrayed and unwelcome.
In all the time we've attended mass at this parish, we have never been made to feel unwelcome or that our kids were a problem. We love our parish, and most of the time the atmosphere is very welcoming to families with children of all ages.
I was horrified that day, and also surprised that the comment hurt me so deeply. And then I got to thinking; what if it hadn't been me? What if it hadn't been someone who is a solid member of the parish community? What if it had been someone new? Perhaps someone who had been away from the church for a while? Someone who felt like I did when my first son was a baby, that taking kids to church just wasn't worth the hassle? I remember feeling that way very well. And if someone had asked me to move to the back of the church in those days - I never would have gone back.
As Catholics, we are called to be open to life. I'd wager most people assume that only applies to married couples. I say, it applies to each and every one of us. We have to be open to life, not just as families, but as faith communities. We cannot ask parents to be open to new life, and then shun them or shame them when they bring those new lives into our midst at mass. We have to embrace them, support them, love them all the more because they are bringing up the next generation of Catholics. If we drive them all away because someone doesn't like crying babies at mass, where will our church be in 10 years? In 20 years?
Being open to life means we must embrace the young families at our parishes. We must welcome them, smile at them knowingly when their babies cry and their toddlers throw a fit. We must help them pick up their spilt cheerios and offer scraps of drawing paper and pens to help distract their little ones. At the very least, we must not cast our eyes askance at them when their children act up. Children will be children, and I remember well how difficult mass can be when you are young. No, kids can't sit still; they can't always be quiet. They will be disruptive sometimes, but life with children is disruptive and messy and chaotic and wonderful. These children who are crying and squirming and interrupting - these children are the future of our church and their mothers and fathers are in desperate need of our loving support.
So if you see a mother at church, struggling to contain her young ones, consider offering to help or at least offering her a warm smile. She's probably doing the best she can, and I think we should praise God that she is there at all.
Not that Sunday.
My boys asked to sit in the front row, but that was clearly a mistake. Often the front row affords them an unobstructed view of the altar and the priest and they wind up watching what is happening a little more - and squirming and making noise a little less. That day it simply meant the whole parish had an unobstructed view of my kids being monkeys.
I did my best to keep them calm and quiet. I'm certain it was clear to anyone watching that I was struggling with my kids, but I wasn't letting them run rampant by any stretch of the imagination. And really, they weren't that bad. They were squirrely, and talking too much, and my oldest son kept making my 3 year old daughter laugh. But I've seen worse.
We'd almost made it through the entire mass. I had successfully navigated potty trips, discarded shoes, attempts to twirl, tickle, and drop things, and had hustled us back to our seats after receiving Communion. Then, as I held my daughter in my lap, insisting my other two keep to their seats, someone came up to me (an usher, I believe), knelt down and quickly said, "Could you please move to the back of the church? Your kids are distracting people."
<Insert me with my jaw on the floor here.>
He walked away quickly, not even giving me a chance to respond. I was floored. Absolutely floored. Communion was nearly over (which means mass was nearly over), and my kids were seated. Yes, we'd had a challenging time that morning, but it wasn't as if I'd had screaming and crying children and I did nothing. The worst thing they did was giggle loudly a lot.
Tears sprang to my eyes and I gathered up my kids and all our stuff and high tailed it to the parking lot. I just wanted out of there. I was so hurt and humiliated. I felt as if everyone in church must have been watching me, judging me. I felt betrayed and unwelcome.
In all the time we've attended mass at this parish, we have never been made to feel unwelcome or that our kids were a problem. We love our parish, and most of the time the atmosphere is very welcoming to families with children of all ages.
I was horrified that day, and also surprised that the comment hurt me so deeply. And then I got to thinking; what if it hadn't been me? What if it hadn't been someone who is a solid member of the parish community? What if it had been someone new? Perhaps someone who had been away from the church for a while? Someone who felt like I did when my first son was a baby, that taking kids to church just wasn't worth the hassle? I remember feeling that way very well. And if someone had asked me to move to the back of the church in those days - I never would have gone back.
As Catholics, we are called to be open to life. I'd wager most people assume that only applies to married couples. I say, it applies to each and every one of us. We have to be open to life, not just as families, but as faith communities. We cannot ask parents to be open to new life, and then shun them or shame them when they bring those new lives into our midst at mass. We have to embrace them, support them, love them all the more because they are bringing up the next generation of Catholics. If we drive them all away because someone doesn't like crying babies at mass, where will our church be in 10 years? In 20 years?
Being open to life means we must embrace the young families at our parishes. We must welcome them, smile at them knowingly when their babies cry and their toddlers throw a fit. We must help them pick up their spilt cheerios and offer scraps of drawing paper and pens to help distract their little ones. At the very least, we must not cast our eyes askance at them when their children act up. Children will be children, and I remember well how difficult mass can be when you are young. No, kids can't sit still; they can't always be quiet. They will be disruptive sometimes, but life with children is disruptive and messy and chaotic and wonderful. These children who are crying and squirming and interrupting - these children are the future of our church and their mothers and fathers are in desperate need of our loving support.
So if you see a mother at church, struggling to contain her young ones, consider offering to help or at least offering her a warm smile. She's probably doing the best she can, and I think we should praise God that she is there at all.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Lent and diet coke
Today we spent some of our school time talking about Lent. I did my best to explain what Lent is (this is what a bad Catholic parent I am, that I have to explain this to him at age 7), and he grasped it quite well. Of his own volition, he decided to give up candy for Lent. I was pretty impressed. I had explained how it was traditional to give up something we love until Lent, sort of like fasting - a little sacrifice to remind us of the big sacrifice of Jesus. That really resonated with him and he very solomnly declared he would not eat "even one single bite of candy AT ALL," until Easter. We'll see how he holds out with that one. I'm not sure whether to really make him stick to it if push comes to shove, but I'll encourage it. I do want it to remain his choice.
Of course, the next question on his mind was, "What are you giving up for Lent, Mom?" Oh shoot. Yes, I should probably be the one setting the example, shouldn't it? I had been mulling it over for a few days (yes, still undecided on the morn of Ash Wednesday), but inside I knew what I should give up. I typically try to give up something that I feel is enacting too strong of a pull on my life at the time. One year I gave up TV. Another year it was Facebook. This year the answer was easy, I just didn't really want to do it.
Diet coke.
Yes, I am a hopeless (well, maybe not entirely hopeless) diet coke addict. I'm telling you, that stuff has more addictive value than just the caffiene. I have had plenty of caffeine today (I was drinking black tea until this afternoon), and boy was I grumpy. I warded off the worst of the caffeine headache with the tea, but I still did not feel right this afternoon. My head still hurt and I was extremely annoyed at how much I wanted that fizzy fix. I am so glad I never started smoking - I'd probably never be able to quit.
Despite my annoyance at the addiction, it has never been enough to get me to quit drinking it entirely. It is difficult because my husband (who I completely blame for my present diet coke junkie state) is worse than I am. He drinks little else lately - which is terrible, I'm sure, but trust me, that man is not the type to be nagged into changing his habits. (And thank goodness HE never started smoking - oh man).
So Lent seemed like the perfect time to put aside the ridiculous addiction I have to diet coke. I figure being headachey and annoyed for a few days is probably good for me right now. Every time I think about how much I want a can of the darned stuff, I can think of why I'm doing this - to focus more on my faith during this time of preparation and to offer this teeny, tiny, insignificant sacrifice to the Lord.
It is funny how my son brought it out and will keep me honest. The last thing I'm going to do is drink a diet coke now, since I told him I wouldn't. I sure grumbled to myself about that this afternoon, but in a day or so I'm sure I'll feel normal again - probably better.
In the meantime, someone pass me a latte!
Of course, the next question on his mind was, "What are you giving up for Lent, Mom?" Oh shoot. Yes, I should probably be the one setting the example, shouldn't it? I had been mulling it over for a few days (yes, still undecided on the morn of Ash Wednesday), but inside I knew what I should give up. I typically try to give up something that I feel is enacting too strong of a pull on my life at the time. One year I gave up TV. Another year it was Facebook. This year the answer was easy, I just didn't really want to do it.
Diet coke.
Yes, I am a hopeless (well, maybe not entirely hopeless) diet coke addict. I'm telling you, that stuff has more addictive value than just the caffiene. I have had plenty of caffeine today (I was drinking black tea until this afternoon), and boy was I grumpy. I warded off the worst of the caffeine headache with the tea, but I still did not feel right this afternoon. My head still hurt and I was extremely annoyed at how much I wanted that fizzy fix. I am so glad I never started smoking - I'd probably never be able to quit.
Despite my annoyance at the addiction, it has never been enough to get me to quit drinking it entirely. It is difficult because my husband (who I completely blame for my present diet coke junkie state) is worse than I am. He drinks little else lately - which is terrible, I'm sure, but trust me, that man is not the type to be nagged into changing his habits. (And thank goodness HE never started smoking - oh man).
So Lent seemed like the perfect time to put aside the ridiculous addiction I have to diet coke. I figure being headachey and annoyed for a few days is probably good for me right now. Every time I think about how much I want a can of the darned stuff, I can think of why I'm doing this - to focus more on my faith during this time of preparation and to offer this teeny, tiny, insignificant sacrifice to the Lord.
It is funny how my son brought it out and will keep me honest. The last thing I'm going to do is drink a diet coke now, since I told him I wouldn't. I sure grumbled to myself about that this afternoon, but in a day or so I'm sure I'll feel normal again - probably better.
In the meantime, someone pass me a latte!
Saturday, July 16, 2011
My favorite part of VBS
Yesterday we wrapped up our week of VBS! I really jumped in head first, asked to be co-director when someone else had to back out. I had no idea what I was doing and no experience, other than dropping my oldest off last year. It all came together so well and I'm really glad I was able to be a part of it. I'm already thinking ahead to next year.
My favorite part of the week was getting to know so many of my fellow parishoners. There are a lot of people that I knew only by face from seeing them at mass who I now count as good friends. I love it! Even the woman who used to ignore me (my "not friend") is now friendly with me. I'm a people person and getting to know more of the families in our parish is such a blessing. The more I get involved in church activities, the more people I meet, and the more I feel at home.
At the end of VBS, we had a BBQ out in the lawn. Families milled about eating hot dogs and fruit, the kids ran around like little banchees, playing various versions of tag with some of the teen leaders. I loved watching my boys run around to their hearts content, and seeing my daughter hang out with some of the teenage girls who are amongst my new babysitting contacts. It felt like a huge extension of our family.
All in all, VBS was a great experience and I'm glad I was asked to be involved. I'm also glad it's over and time for a break. I'm hopelessly behind on work (I work part time from home as a writer), my house is a disaster and I think we're all ready for our normal routine. But it was a great week and I'm pretty excited to have made a lot of new friends.
My favorite part of the week was getting to know so many of my fellow parishoners. There are a lot of people that I knew only by face from seeing them at mass who I now count as good friends. I love it! Even the woman who used to ignore me (my "not friend") is now friendly with me. I'm a people person and getting to know more of the families in our parish is such a blessing. The more I get involved in church activities, the more people I meet, and the more I feel at home.
At the end of VBS, we had a BBQ out in the lawn. Families milled about eating hot dogs and fruit, the kids ran around like little banchees, playing various versions of tag with some of the teen leaders. I loved watching my boys run around to their hearts content, and seeing my daughter hang out with some of the teenage girls who are amongst my new babysitting contacts. It felt like a huge extension of our family.
All in all, VBS was a great experience and I'm glad I was asked to be involved. I'm also glad it's over and time for a break. I'm hopelessly behind on work (I work part time from home as a writer), my house is a disaster and I think we're all ready for our normal routine. But it was a great week and I'm pretty excited to have made a lot of new friends.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Partway through VBS
I'm smack in the middle of VBS week, and what a week it's turning out to be! I think things are going really, really well. My co-director is amazing, we had things well planned out and organized ahead of time, and other than a few wrinkles we had to iron out the first couple of days, things are going well.
I love seeing the enthusiasm of the kids. I think I may have overdone it the first day on encouraging them to be loud because now they're getting a little crazy everytime I ask "Hey, is everyone having fun!" or something similar at our large group assembly time. I have to quiet them down because they all seem to have lungs as tall as they are and infinite amounts of oxygen.
Today our pastor, Father Matthew, joined us for "Church Exploration." He took each group around to talk about the different parts of the church and then talked to them about the Mass. The kids were enthralled. He's not naturally a kid person, although he's not gruff or short with them. He's just very intellectual and doesn't quite "get" kids. However, the kids look at him like he's a celebrity. As soon as they saw him come out next to me at our opening assembly, they erupted in cheers and "Hi Father Matthew!!!!", jumping up in their seats and waving at him. It was a lot of fun to see them so excited, and they were amazingly well behaved when they were on their little tour of the church. Even our youngest group sat in their seats quietly and listened to him, which was a far cry from how they were yesterday.
I'm glad the kids are having a good time, and I think they're learning too. We have almost 100 kids, so that's a lot of little hearts we're reaching. It makes all the late nights, the lists and meetings, and me acting silly doing all the song motions, worthwhile.
I love seeing the enthusiasm of the kids. I think I may have overdone it the first day on encouraging them to be loud because now they're getting a little crazy everytime I ask "Hey, is everyone having fun!" or something similar at our large group assembly time. I have to quiet them down because they all seem to have lungs as tall as they are and infinite amounts of oxygen.
Today our pastor, Father Matthew, joined us for "Church Exploration." He took each group around to talk about the different parts of the church and then talked to them about the Mass. The kids were enthralled. He's not naturally a kid person, although he's not gruff or short with them. He's just very intellectual and doesn't quite "get" kids. However, the kids look at him like he's a celebrity. As soon as they saw him come out next to me at our opening assembly, they erupted in cheers and "Hi Father Matthew!!!!", jumping up in their seats and waving at him. It was a lot of fun to see them so excited, and they were amazingly well behaved when they were on their little tour of the church. Even our youngest group sat in their seats quietly and listened to him, which was a far cry from how they were yesterday.
I'm glad the kids are having a good time, and I think they're learning too. We have almost 100 kids, so that's a lot of little hearts we're reaching. It makes all the late nights, the lists and meetings, and me acting silly doing all the song motions, worthwhile.
Friday, July 8, 2011
VBS on the horizon
Vacation Bible School starts next week. People keep asking me if I'm ready (I'm co-director this year) and all I can say is, "I think so!" I'm living in blissful ignorance, since I've never done this before and am not aware of the zillion-and-one things I probably need to do but don't know about.
That's ok. I feel like we're pretty organized, and although I'm sure there will be things we'll think of, or wish we'd thought of sooner, that's the way of these things. I used to do some event planning, back in my first job out of college, so I know how it goes.
That said, I am up at almost midnight tonight, mostly trying to learn the Bible memory verse and associated hand motions that I'm supposed to teach the kids next week. I think it might help if I knew it myself, yes? Luckily, my boys love rocking out to the VBS music in the car, so I've had a lot of time to learn the words to the songs. I'm not the one teaching the music, but it will be a part of our opening and closing each day (of which I am "hosting" so to speak), so it will be good to be able to participate - even if I don't sing into the microphone ;). I'm not shy in front of a crowd, but talking and singing are two different things. I can carry a tune ok, but I'm not comfortable being mic'd when I sing. Thankfully, someone far more talented in that arena than I will be handling the music next week.
In any case, I still have quite a bit to do - small detail things at this point. And I definitely don't have enough time to do it all. So I suppose I'll simply do my best and try to keep in mind why I'm doing all this in the first place - to spread the love of God to the little people of our parish, my own kids included. It's all too easy to get caught up in the tasks and checklists and to-dos in such a big production and forget what it is all for. I have a lot more peace about it when I think of it in terms of doing God's work. That's worth staying up a little late for.
That's ok. I feel like we're pretty organized, and although I'm sure there will be things we'll think of, or wish we'd thought of sooner, that's the way of these things. I used to do some event planning, back in my first job out of college, so I know how it goes.
That said, I am up at almost midnight tonight, mostly trying to learn the Bible memory verse and associated hand motions that I'm supposed to teach the kids next week. I think it might help if I knew it myself, yes? Luckily, my boys love rocking out to the VBS music in the car, so I've had a lot of time to learn the words to the songs. I'm not the one teaching the music, but it will be a part of our opening and closing each day (of which I am "hosting" so to speak), so it will be good to be able to participate - even if I don't sing into the microphone ;). I'm not shy in front of a crowd, but talking and singing are two different things. I can carry a tune ok, but I'm not comfortable being mic'd when I sing. Thankfully, someone far more talented in that arena than I will be handling the music next week.
In any case, I still have quite a bit to do - small detail things at this point. And I definitely don't have enough time to do it all. So I suppose I'll simply do my best and try to keep in mind why I'm doing all this in the first place - to spread the love of God to the little people of our parish, my own kids included. It's all too easy to get caught up in the tasks and checklists and to-dos in such a big production and forget what it is all for. I have a lot more peace about it when I think of it in terms of doing God's work. That's worth staying up a little late for.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Musings about Mass
For the last couple of weeks, our pastor at church has been in Italy - Rome and Assissi, I believe. So we've had a couple different visiting priests here to say mass. This got me thinking a bit about the difference between the Catholic Church and a lot of my protestant friends' churches. If their pastor goes away, what do they do? Perhaps there are multiple pastors for many of their churches. But really, their church is built around the pastor. Sunday service is built around the pastor's sermon, his interpretations of scripture.
When our priest is gone, we have someone step in, and sure, the homily might be different from what we're used to. It might be kind of boring, or longer, or shorter, or maybe really great and insightful. But the Mass remains. It doesn't change with the whims of the resident priest or depend on him all that greatly. We are still nourished by the Word of God. We still pray together, and sing together. And we still recieve the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist.
Growing up Catholic, I had no idea how different our church is from other churches and took much of it for granted. I didn't understand the reality of the Eucharist - it's importance or it's power. I didn't realize the depth of Tradition that reaches both back through time, and outward across the entire world.
I appreciate it so much more now and I hope and pray I can pass some of that wonder and appreciation on to my own children.
When our priest is gone, we have someone step in, and sure, the homily might be different from what we're used to. It might be kind of boring, or longer, or shorter, or maybe really great and insightful. But the Mass remains. It doesn't change with the whims of the resident priest or depend on him all that greatly. We are still nourished by the Word of God. We still pray together, and sing together. And we still recieve the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist.
Growing up Catholic, I had no idea how different our church is from other churches and took much of it for granted. I didn't understand the reality of the Eucharist - it's importance or it's power. I didn't realize the depth of Tradition that reaches both back through time, and outward across the entire world.
I appreciate it so much more now and I hope and pray I can pass some of that wonder and appreciation on to my own children.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Feeling the love
My husband is gone for the weekend, off mountain biking up in Whistler - as in, riding a ski lift up the mountain, and riding down on a bike. I'm just hoping he comes back in one piece. He texted me today to tell me he did a header over the handlebars and probably has bruised ribs. Lovely, yes? I asked him if he was hurt, or actually injured and needing medical attention. He assures me he's just bruised and sore and he'll get in one more mellow ride (if there is such a thing there) tomorrow before coming home.
In any case, this was not the best weekend for him to be gone. There was just a lot going on, culminating in a big Pentecost celebration at our church today. Our parish has made this our official parish feast day, so they pulled out all the stops. We had one, large Sunday mass (rather than the usual two), followed by a huge potluck, live music and other entertainment, games for the kids and so on. It was a lot of fun - well, the celebration after mass was fun. Getting through a long mass by myself with my three kids today proved to be... challenging.
My boys chose seats in the front row, which can either be great, or disasterous. Today was the latter. On an ordinary Sunday, maybe one of my kids will be difficult in church and the other two fairly reasonable. Or possibly, if it's a bad day, two of them will act up and the other (usually David, my oldest), will be fine. Today, of all days, with a huge turnout (aka witnesses) and no husband (aka the key to my sanity), all three of my kids were monsters. Terrible, no-good, very bad monsters.
David (my 6 year old) whined and squirmed alternating with standing up and throwing his stuffed tiger around during the songs. Grayson (my 4 year old) complained, whined, squirmed, chased his sister around, complained some more and tried to wander off several times. Ella (21 months) cried, screamed, ran off more than once, kicked her brothers, climbed on everything and generally made life difficult for me and pretty much every one else around me. She made so much noise, when we were outside after mass I was chatting with a woman who laughed at my misfortune (probably thinking she was laughing *with* me, despite my own lack of laughter) and said, "The best part about her fit was that it wasn't one of mine!" Ha. ha.
But you know what, it wasn't all bad. A woman I don't even know quietly came over a couple times during mass, when Miss-Fussypants was at her worst, and offered to sit with my boys while I took her to the back of the church to calm her down. And a good friend of mine, who is older with grown kids of her own, held my daughter through part of mass and let Grayson sit by her towards the end. Another friend of mine was sitting a few rows behind, and happily distracted Ella when she wandered back toward her, keeping her from running off too far. Nearly everyone around me met my eyes with a genuine smile (and sometimes a little pity). But mostly I just felt loved. These people sitting around me weren't horrified at my daughters screaming outburst, or the clatter of crayons and clipboard as my son's coloring dropped to the floor. They weren't upset when I left my seat to calm one child, or when another child slipped back to get a drink (because you know, he was going to die of thirst on the spot). They simply smiled warmly and understood, many reaching out to help.
This is one of the things that brought us to this church. We had questions about Catholic doctrine and practices; about the rituals and sacraments and church teaching, and we explored those questions. But they had us with their welcome and love before we even dove into the nitty gritty of what it is to be Catholic. They had us with their love. And today was a great reminder of that.
I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
~John 13:34, 35
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| Who would believe such a sweet looking creature could be so rotten! :) |
My husband is gone for the weekend, off mountain biking up in Whistler - as in, riding a ski lift up the mountain, and riding down on a bike. I'm just hoping he comes back in one piece. He texted me today to tell me he did a header over the handlebars and probably has bruised ribs. Lovely, yes? I asked him if he was hurt, or actually injured and needing medical attention. He assures me he's just bruised and sore and he'll get in one more mellow ride (if there is such a thing there) tomorrow before coming home.
In any case, this was not the best weekend for him to be gone. There was just a lot going on, culminating in a big Pentecost celebration at our church today. Our parish has made this our official parish feast day, so they pulled out all the stops. We had one, large Sunday mass (rather than the usual two), followed by a huge potluck, live music and other entertainment, games for the kids and so on. It was a lot of fun - well, the celebration after mass was fun. Getting through a long mass by myself with my three kids today proved to be... challenging.
My boys chose seats in the front row, which can either be great, or disasterous. Today was the latter. On an ordinary Sunday, maybe one of my kids will be difficult in church and the other two fairly reasonable. Or possibly, if it's a bad day, two of them will act up and the other (usually David, my oldest), will be fine. Today, of all days, with a huge turnout (aka witnesses) and no husband (aka the key to my sanity), all three of my kids were monsters. Terrible, no-good, very bad monsters.
David (my 6 year old) whined and squirmed alternating with standing up and throwing his stuffed tiger around during the songs. Grayson (my 4 year old) complained, whined, squirmed, chased his sister around, complained some more and tried to wander off several times. Ella (21 months) cried, screamed, ran off more than once, kicked her brothers, climbed on everything and generally made life difficult for me and pretty much every one else around me. She made so much noise, when we were outside after mass I was chatting with a woman who laughed at my misfortune (probably thinking she was laughing *with* me, despite my own lack of laughter) and said, "The best part about her fit was that it wasn't one of mine!" Ha. ha.
But you know what, it wasn't all bad. A woman I don't even know quietly came over a couple times during mass, when Miss-Fussypants was at her worst, and offered to sit with my boys while I took her to the back of the church to calm her down. And a good friend of mine, who is older with grown kids of her own, held my daughter through part of mass and let Grayson sit by her towards the end. Another friend of mine was sitting a few rows behind, and happily distracted Ella when she wandered back toward her, keeping her from running off too far. Nearly everyone around me met my eyes with a genuine smile (and sometimes a little pity). But mostly I just felt loved. These people sitting around me weren't horrified at my daughters screaming outburst, or the clatter of crayons and clipboard as my son's coloring dropped to the floor. They weren't upset when I left my seat to calm one child, or when another child slipped back to get a drink (because you know, he was going to die of thirst on the spot). They simply smiled warmly and understood, many reaching out to help.
This is one of the things that brought us to this church. We had questions about Catholic doctrine and practices; about the rituals and sacraments and church teaching, and we explored those questions. But they had us with their welcome and love before we even dove into the nitty gritty of what it is to be Catholic. They had us with their love. And today was a great reminder of that.
I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
~John 13:34, 35
Monday, June 6, 2011
Going to Mass as a family
Saturday evening I went to Mass by myself. We're doing pre-registration for VBS after each Mass and we didn't have anyone to cover on Saturday, so I went. Ordinarily, my husband and kids would have gone and we would have made that our weekly Mass. But we had plans with my mom for Sunday, which included her coming to Mass with us in the morning. So, off I went on my own.
There were nice things about being at Mass by myself. There were no distractions. I heard each of the readings and was able to sit quietly and absorb the homily. After receiving Communion, I was able to take my place and pray without anyone trying to climb on me, spilling their crayons or attempting to run away. I enjoyed the peace and quiet.
But I really enjoy going to Mass with my little family. There is such a unity in being there together. There was a time, not so long ago, when I probably wouldn't have believed we'd be there, in that church, together. My husband was very skeptical of Catholicism for a long time and I wondered if we'd ever come together and find common ground. And yet, here we are, a little family of five, all Catholic, loving God together and loving our church.
Before we got married, the priest who married us drew a little diagram. I suspect it's common in pre-marital counseling, and if it isn't, it should be. He drew a triangle, with labels and the corners. The bottom two corners were labeled "husband," and "wife". The top was labeled, "God." He explained, the closer each of the partners get to God, the closer they come to each other. I can still remember his finger tracing the lines of the triangle.
Although that statement felt true at the time, it rings all the truer as the years go by and my husband and I have both deepened our faith in God. We've grown closer to God, together. And in so doing, we've grown closer to each other.
Attending Mass with small children may not always be easy. But I still love it. I love being there together, as a whole, unified family. I love seeing people I know and getting to know new ones. I love being a part of such a great community. And I love that we're in it together.
There were nice things about being at Mass by myself. There were no distractions. I heard each of the readings and was able to sit quietly and absorb the homily. After receiving Communion, I was able to take my place and pray without anyone trying to climb on me, spilling their crayons or attempting to run away. I enjoyed the peace and quiet.
But I really enjoy going to Mass with my little family. There is such a unity in being there together. There was a time, not so long ago, when I probably wouldn't have believed we'd be there, in that church, together. My husband was very skeptical of Catholicism for a long time and I wondered if we'd ever come together and find common ground. And yet, here we are, a little family of five, all Catholic, loving God together and loving our church.
Before we got married, the priest who married us drew a little diagram. I suspect it's common in pre-marital counseling, and if it isn't, it should be. He drew a triangle, with labels and the corners. The bottom two corners were labeled "husband," and "wife". The top was labeled, "God." He explained, the closer each of the partners get to God, the closer they come to each other. I can still remember his finger tracing the lines of the triangle.
Although that statement felt true at the time, it rings all the truer as the years go by and my husband and I have both deepened our faith in God. We've grown closer to God, together. And in so doing, we've grown closer to each other.
Attending Mass with small children may not always be easy. But I still love it. I love being there together, as a whole, unified family. I love seeing people I know and getting to know new ones. I love being a part of such a great community. And I love that we're in it together.
Monday, May 23, 2011
My not-friend
Yesterday we sat next to her family at mass. Our kids had a little too much fun playing together (especially hers, but I'll refrain from judgmental-mom comments on her kids' usual behavior at mass), but overall nothing seemed amiss. Her husband is friendly and seems nice and we shared a few knowing glances as the volume of our kids' dinosaur roars got a little too loud, or when my daughter (she's about 20 months) started climbing on their pile of coats. But the wife - she wouldn't so much as look at me.
This isn't new. I see her at mass almost every week and we usually sit near them, and whenever I've tried to make eye contact or smile at her, she always looks away quickly. When I see her at they Y, she ignores me and you'd never know she and I have ever shaken hands and offered one another peace at mass (which has only happened once or twice, but I'll keep my paranoia to a minimum and not assume that she's avoiding that as well). I like meeting people at church, especially other moms, so I've made it a point to try to catch her eye and smile, if only to acknowledge that we go to the same church. But she never returns my smile. In fact, she looks away so quickly and so obviously, I can't help but feel that she purposefully ignores me.
Yesterday after mass, she was trying to take a quick picture of her boys, who were all dressed alike, but her youngest wasn't cooperating (he's probably about a year and a half). I was literally standing a foot away, so I stepped closer and tried to help. I made faces at her kids and got them to sit still for about .008 of a second, but I think it was enough time for her to get a picture. Still, she wouldn't so much as look in my direction.
My husband noticed it, and asked me about it later that afternoon. He jokingly asked me what I did to make her hate me so much. I laughed, but honestly, I'm baffled. I have no idea if I could have done something to make her not like me. I can't imagine what it could have been.
It's very likely that she doesn't think anything in particular about me and I'm making this up in my head (although in my defense, my husband noticed too!) At this point, I'm chosing to believe that she's shy and maybe a little socially awkward and that comes across as being standoffish. She's plenty friendly with two or three other families who often sit near as well, but perhaps she knows them well and is more comfortable.
I'm not hurt or offended at her behavior; rather, I'm confused and wonder if there's something I'm missing. I don't want to reach out to her and try to be friendly if she's not interested. But I'll be honest, I'm not used to not being liked. I don't mean that I'm such an amazing gal that everyone loves me; quite the contrary, I have plenty of faults and I'm sure there are things about me that others find annoying. I'm not friends with everyone I've ever met. But generally speaking, I'm friendly and most people receive that well. This woman won't so much as look in my direction. It's just... odd.
For now I guess I'll be as friendly as any situation warrants. But I'm morbidly curious to find out what this woman finds so distasteful about me; or if she's just shy and has a hard time around people she doesn't know. Perhaps time will tell.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Time well spent
My husband and I are one of the couples that teaches Baptism prep classes at our parish. You want your baby baptized, you gotta go through us! Seriously though, it's a small thing we do, just a two class session a few times a year. We've really enjoyed it though and it has been a gateway to getting us involved in other things at church, which I do love.
Last Monday we had the second class for this particular group. One of the families is from Mexico and spoke some, but not much English. They brought their older daughter with them to help translate, and the godparents attended as well. We did our best to include them in the discussions, since we do a lot of sharing back and forth with the families, but they often didn't have too much to say. The godparents were very quiet. I wasn't sure if they were simply a little shy of talking due to their English skills, or if they weren't understanding much of what we said. It was hard to tell, but we did our best.
Afterward the class was over, the godfather from this group came up to us. He told us how he grew up in a small village in Mexico where they didn't have their own church. A priest would come a couple times a year to say mass, so they'd all drop what they were doing and run when they heard the bells ring because it meant mass was beginning. He said his family taught him what they could about God, but since they didn't have a church, he felt like he missed out on things. Then he told us how much he enjoyed the class and that he learned a lot. He went on to say that he'd been through baptism classes before, as he has six children of his own, but no one had ever explained the signs and symbols of the sacrament as well as we did. He said over and over that he was so happy to have learned new things, and that he'd sat through baptism classes before and felt like they were a waste of his time. But this was time well spent.
I was so touched and humbled. They way he spoke of his home was so sad and yet hopeful. And his enthusiasm for the time he'd spent in class was very touching. I always wonder if people feel like these classes are just something they have to put up with in order to get on with baptizing their child. But he was happy to have been there and that made me feel really good.
I don't share this to toot my own horn or brag about how great my class is. I've just been thinking about him all week and wanted to ponder our conversation a little. Far from making me feel some sort of puffed up pride in myself, I feel like in some small way, maybe the Holy Spirit is working through me. And that is nothing but humbling in the best possible way.
Last Monday we had the second class for this particular group. One of the families is from Mexico and spoke some, but not much English. They brought their older daughter with them to help translate, and the godparents attended as well. We did our best to include them in the discussions, since we do a lot of sharing back and forth with the families, but they often didn't have too much to say. The godparents were very quiet. I wasn't sure if they were simply a little shy of talking due to their English skills, or if they weren't understanding much of what we said. It was hard to tell, but we did our best.
Afterward the class was over, the godfather from this group came up to us. He told us how he grew up in a small village in Mexico where they didn't have their own church. A priest would come a couple times a year to say mass, so they'd all drop what they were doing and run when they heard the bells ring because it meant mass was beginning. He said his family taught him what they could about God, but since they didn't have a church, he felt like he missed out on things. Then he told us how much he enjoyed the class and that he learned a lot. He went on to say that he'd been through baptism classes before, as he has six children of his own, but no one had ever explained the signs and symbols of the sacrament as well as we did. He said over and over that he was so happy to have learned new things, and that he'd sat through baptism classes before and felt like they were a waste of his time. But this was time well spent.
I was so touched and humbled. They way he spoke of his home was so sad and yet hopeful. And his enthusiasm for the time he'd spent in class was very touching. I always wonder if people feel like these classes are just something they have to put up with in order to get on with baptizing their child. But he was happy to have been there and that made me feel really good.
I don't share this to toot my own horn or brag about how great my class is. I've just been thinking about him all week and wanted to ponder our conversation a little. Far from making me feel some sort of puffed up pride in myself, I feel like in some small way, maybe the Holy Spirit is working through me. And that is nothing but humbling in the best possible way.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
My next adventure - VBS
I had a feeling it was coming.... I got recruited to help chair the VBS team this year :). When we started hearing announcements at church about VBS, I had a feeling I might wind up working it this year. I didn't jump right up and volunteer; I have to admit, I had reservations about getting involved. Not that I don't love what they do - my oldest, David, had a wonderful time last year. But I'll be honest, I had fun dropping him off and picking him up and not needing to do anything in between. Well, anything other than the usual taking care of the other kidlets, of course. I saw how hard everyone was working and I was definitely grateful, and kind of grateful I wasn't one of them.
A week or so ago I started thinking maybe I'd volunteer to help out. You know, be there to help pass out snacks or something easy like that. Nothing that might require too many meetings or coordination. Just show up and lend a hand. Right...
I'm co-chairing the whole thing.
See, they had me at "we need someone who isn't afraid to get up in front of people and talk." The woman I'll be working with is great - she's very organized, already has a lot done and is very enthusiastic. But she can't do everything on her own, and she's terrified of being in front of people - even a bunch of kids (or maybe especially a bunch of kids?). I have no such fears. Public speaking is actually something I'm not only pretty good at, but I genuinely like doing it. I'm weird like that.
So when our Pastoral Associate, who is also a friend, grabbed me last night when my husband and I were at church teaching a Baptism prep class (which we were recruited to do about a year and a half ago), I only hesitated for a second before agreeing. She told me the original VBS chair had to step down because of complications with her pregnancy (her seventh, no less, and her husband is currently deployed), and that the remaining chair was happy to keep going but did not want to do any of the "up in front of people" stuff - and something inside me said, "Ok!"
Last night I had bit of post-agreement remorse. Why did I agree to this? It's going to be so much work! I already have a lot going on! What am I doing?!
But then I started thinking about how I've been wanting to get more involved in our parish again and how I need something to keep me engaged. Heck, I blogged about it not long ago. This wasn't what I was envisioning, but the more I think about it, the more excited I get. I'm as excited to get to know more people in our parish as I am to put together the program for the kids. The other chair and I were having fun playing, "Do you know who I am," as we chatted on the phone this afternoon and realized we sat right across the aisle from each other at Mass on Sunday. Already I feel like I'm making a new friend.
So here I go! I have no experience with VBS whatsoever, but I have a lot of enthusiasm so I hope that will be enough.
A week or so ago I started thinking maybe I'd volunteer to help out. You know, be there to help pass out snacks or something easy like that. Nothing that might require too many meetings or coordination. Just show up and lend a hand. Right...
I'm co-chairing the whole thing.
See, they had me at "we need someone who isn't afraid to get up in front of people and talk." The woman I'll be working with is great - she's very organized, already has a lot done and is very enthusiastic. But she can't do everything on her own, and she's terrified of being in front of people - even a bunch of kids (or maybe especially a bunch of kids?). I have no such fears. Public speaking is actually something I'm not only pretty good at, but I genuinely like doing it. I'm weird like that.
So when our Pastoral Associate, who is also a friend, grabbed me last night when my husband and I were at church teaching a Baptism prep class (which we were recruited to do about a year and a half ago), I only hesitated for a second before agreeing. She told me the original VBS chair had to step down because of complications with her pregnancy (her seventh, no less, and her husband is currently deployed), and that the remaining chair was happy to keep going but did not want to do any of the "up in front of people" stuff - and something inside me said, "Ok!"
Last night I had bit of post-agreement remorse. Why did I agree to this? It's going to be so much work! I already have a lot going on! What am I doing?!
But then I started thinking about how I've been wanting to get more involved in our parish again and how I need something to keep me engaged. Heck, I blogged about it not long ago. This wasn't what I was envisioning, but the more I think about it, the more excited I get. I'm as excited to get to know more people in our parish as I am to put together the program for the kids. The other chair and I were having fun playing, "Do you know who I am," as we chatted on the phone this afternoon and realized we sat right across the aisle from each other at Mass on Sunday. Already I feel like I'm making a new friend.
So here I go! I have no experience with VBS whatsoever, but I have a lot of enthusiasm so I hope that will be enough.
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