My two oldest children are preparing to make the sacrament of reconciliation. I am so grateful to God for this experience, as I have never fully understood the power or necessity of this healing sacrament as I do now that my husband and I are going through this preparation time with our children. When I first returned to the faith I was terrified of making a confession. I pictured the priest throwing me out of the confessional and publicly declaring me excommunicated for good. I know now that I was being silly and overdramatic, but the feeling was truly there at that time. So after I made my confession and did penance, the amount of joy and relief that surged through me surpassed the level of fear I’d had beforehand. Receiving the Eucharist the next day, after so long, had a feeling that words could not describe. But after that, I confessed only once a year, during Easter season, because “that’s all you have to do.” Now, I am teaching my kids about the sacrament, and as a mom, I don’t ever want them to settle for the minimum standard–especially in matters of faith. So, my teaching of them is what’s driving me to be a more faithful Catholic, and I am able to regularly examine my conscience, not out of guilt or fear, but out of a desire for that joy that comes only from being closer to God.

I was raised by a Catholic dad and a Presbyterian mom. This, in and of itself, wouldn’t have been a huge problem had my mother directed all my questions to a priest or a faithful Catholic, but instead, she answered my questions from her own beliefs. I don’t blame my mom for all of this because my dad, who lived right there in the same house, didn’t monitor this very much. Or maybe he didn’t know about it. I often think if his mom, my grandma, hadn’t influenced me as much as she did, saying rosaries with me and teaching me about the saints (she had those little cards) I’d probably be agnostic right now, so thank God for her influence. I have been thinking about my grandma and about Mary all day, as this is the Assumption day, and my dear departed grandma’s birthday. I thank God that I wasn’t denied a relationship with Mary, as my grandma sowed the seeds of a relationship for me. I look to Mary every time I feel I am failing or even just struggling as a mom. I will be honest with you readers, I don’t say the rosary daily, but I know I should. I think of all the times I made mistakes that were either threats to my Christianity, or my safety, or others safety, and I can’t help but believe that all those rosaries my Grandma said for us daily had to have helped me! I love my own mom, but she is simply unable to be a model of Catholic parenting for me. I have other people I can turn to, but when I know I need to be straightened out, I turn the most holy mother of all.

Today, as I was glancing at the news from around the U.S. on a popular news website, I was struck, sickened, and saddened by a story about a murder -suicide of a mother and her two young children. According to the article, this was a Catholic family—very active in their local parish—and the accompanying photos showed a beautiful looking family.
What causes a person to do such a thing? I don’t ask that with harsh judgment, but rather with a sense of shock. I love my husband and children so much; I can’t imagine how much pain this poor woman must have been in, whatever the cause. After reading the news report, I started to pray, especially for the children. When I hear news of this type of thing happening to “good” families, I think about fellow members of my own parish community. Maybe the people who appear to “have it together” the most might actually be suffering the most. We must pray for each other, and for the faithful departed. Life is a blessing and a gift from God.

My daughter Olivia is very persistent whenever she has questions, and she has questions often. This is a very positive trait, I know, but can be frustrating for me when I don’t know the correct answers. Truly, I am more frustrated with myself than with her, of course. I try to be honest with her, including the response of “I don’t know, but we can look it up.” This is because not only is honesty a virtue, but she has a sharp sense of when someone is incorrect or is “pulling her leg.” She also notices inconsistencies, and has a very detail specific memory. It can be very challenging thinking of the right words to say when she asks me questions about God, Jesus, or our Catholic Faith. It is truly a blessing that she asks me these questions, as there are many “holes” in my own knowledge of the faith due to poor Catechesis, and the fact that I directed most of my questions about religion to my Presbyterian mother–whom in turn gave responses based on her own religion–rather than asking somebody like my Catechism teacher, or a priest. So, when Olivia asks me the tough questions, I always learn more and grow more in my own faith. Over time, I plan to share with you some of her questions, alongside the misconceptions I grew up with and am still having to find clarification on from time to time.

When Alex was about 4 years old I took him to mass, alone, without the rest of my family. When I brought him up to the alter with me for communion, I showed him how he should cross his arms, but failed to anticipate he might “help himself” to some. Fortunately, between the Eucharistic minister and me, we were able to keep Alex from taking any or dropping any of the hosts on the floor. As we headed back to our pew, he looked up at me innocently and said “cracker?” Without a lot of forethought, and looking for a firm and simple way to explain to my communication challenged son, I simply whispered in a firm way, “Those crackers are for grownups.” After that time, for several months, I had to give him a reminder, “Those crackers are for grownups.”
Fast forward to now. My son just turned nine. Due to his developmental delays, we have chosen to have him wait until this next spring to receive first Holy Communion. I am challenged by the concept of teaching an extremely “black and white” thinker that this is not just some snack; it is the real presence of Jesus. Oh, how I regret ever calling it a cracker! Also, I regret reserving it for grownups. I also should have rethought telling him that when he is nine, he will receive the sacrament, because one Sunday soon after his 9th birthday, he tried to take communion again. I stopped him in time and whispered, “Not yet buddy!”
As we returned to our pew, I leaned over and whispered, “In April, you and some other kids will receive holy communion for the first time.” His response was pure excitement. I shallowly anticipated that he was excited because it involved some sort of food. But, I was wrong. His excited response was “Yay, now I can be Catholic like everyone else!” Bless his heart. I told him he is already Catholic, and that I am proud of him. Teaching my children about the Blessed Sacrament has reinforced for me one thousand fold how sacred and special it is, and how blessed we are to be Catholic, the only faith that celebrates the holy Eucharist.

My poor husband asked me about my blog today and got a real earful from me.  I was angry about him “harping” on me,” how he has more “free time” than I have and so on. The reality of the situation is that I know I haven’t devoted the time and effort to this blog that I originally intended to. I have been putting up obstacles for myself, and I know it.  I am on summer vacation, and so now that I have more time than usual, I am just not devoting it to this blog that I was so excited about in the beginning.

I do not want to quit, and I appreciate the comments I receive from my readers, but I am going to take the next three weeks to think and pray and decide if this is a commitment I can keep right now, and will post my decision then.  Thank you for reading, and God bless you.

As I said in my first post, my son Alex has an ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder).  He learns very quickly, but the way he communicates to us is often very different.  I have been teaching him about holy week and why we attend Mass and services more than usual this week.

Alex often recites lines from T.V. programs or commercials, and he will insert other words or concepts into his reciting.  Last night, at Good Friday service, Alex was very concerned and sad about Jesus’s death.  I reminded him of the resurrection and all the joy of that, which we will celebrate soon on Easter.  He had no furthur comment until we were walking out of the church to our car. We walked in silence as Father had reminded us to do, but as we neared our car, Alex started scripting very quietly to himself, much like the invisible narrator’s voice on a movie preview, “Will Jesus come again? Yes he will!  Look for Jesus 2, coming this Sunday to Disney home DVD collections.”

Now, please do not misunderstand me.  This could sound like a mockery of our faith. However, it is not.  My son was using a common (for him) way of telling us what he’s learned.  After my kids said their evening prayers, Alex said, in a regular voice, “I love you Jesus.”  May you all have a blessed Easter season, as we celebrate the resurection, and await His return again.  Happy Easter.

My beautiful daughter just turned seven.  She is, and always has been, full of questions.  She questions everything and is a very deep thinker. Recently, she picked up a copy of our archdiocesee’s Catholic newspaper, and saw an article and photo about an art exhibit that mocked our faith in a very rude, senseless way.  She was shocked.  She instantly had questions.   “Why would people mock catholics?” (good question). “How is that art?” (another good question).  “Why did the ‘museum boss’ let him put it there?”  and so on. My initial response was to be very condemning of the artist and the museum operators, etc.  But instead, I stopped and took a breath. I asked God to help me with this one. I remembered that I am trying my best, with my own broken history and lack of strong catechises, to mold and form her into a faithful child of God.  So,instead of angry ranting,  I told her we should pray for them.  Her response to me was overwhelming, as she looked me in the eye and said, “Oh mommy, I already did that!”  I guess the student has surpassed the teacher on this one.  God bless you all.

When I think about which events brought me back towards the catholic faith, it is hard to put my finger on any one of a whole series of events that, working together, pulled me back. Before my husband and I were ever married, we agreed that when both parents are the same religion, and raise the children in that religion, it is much better for the family. We both were raised in homes where the parents had different beliefs, and we knew the problems that could arise from that situation. At that time, he was not yet catholic, or practicing any religion, but was studying about all religions like crazy. I was attending mass on the occasional Sunday, various protestant services on a few other Sundays, and hitting the snooze bar well past noon most Sundays. Just a few months after we were married, the terrorist attacks of September 11^th occurred, and for the first time in my adult life, I was truly scared of something. Just two days later, at the little rural school where I was teaching, we went into lock down because of an escaped criminal in pursuit by the police, who was headed on foot towards our school. I remember thinking to myself “Has the world gone crazy?“

Just one day later, there was an accident on the freeway where an unmarked delivery truck was overturned, I happened to notice that the driver, obviously rattled, looked foreign. Then, while the traffic backed up behind me, I noticed two cars with several Middle Eastern looking men dressed like Muslims. In the part of the country I live in, that is an extremely unusual sight, and although I now know it was pure coincidence, at the time, I started to wonder if this was no accident, what if this was a purposeful blocking of the freeway? What if something devastating was being planned? First the airlines, now the interstate freeway system? I decided that I was being paranoid, but then I noticed the men talking fast and acting differently than the other drivers in other cars. One got out and went into the trunk. Please keep in mind that 9/11 had just happened a few days before. I thought about getting out of my car and running from the scene of the accident, but where to? I was in a remote area of the county. I didn’t know what to do, so in that moment, I began to pray the rosary, something I hadn’t done since high school. I kept it up the entire two hours I was stuck there while emergency crews handled the situation. I continued praying Hail Mary’s the entire rest of the way to work. That night, on my commute home, I had to ask myself, “hey, if you aren’t catholic anymore, how come you prayed the rosary this morning?” I couldn’t come up with a good answer. The next evening, I was at Saturday evening mass. I started to attend mass regularly. There is more to this story, and it will unfold over time. This is the first of many examples, too many to count, of how this faith has strengthened me.

Lately, my six year old and eight year old have been doing very well during mass. I am proud of their behavior and am very pleased with their level of participation in the mass. My Alex, even with his language challenges, has learned most of the responses, the sign of the cross, the Lord’s prayer, he sings the Gloria, and shakes hands and says “peace to you” during the sign of peace. My six year old daughter is doing several of these things as well. However, it wasn’t always this way…

I can remember when my two oldest were toddler and preschool age. As much as I hate to say this, going to mass felt like a chore. I would pack books, quiet toys, snacks, cups, diapers–all in an effort to keep them quiet, content, and comfortable. We’d ultimately wind up in the cry room every time.

As the kids got older (around ages 4 and 6) it seemed like it was only getting harder rather than easier. It was my husband who identified the reason why. By that time he’d entered RCIA, and was attending mass, too. He pointed out that I wasn’t allowing our children to learn how to behave at mass. We don’t eat, read, walk around, or play–why should they? The new rule was that they could have one catholic children’s book each, and that’s it. They could wiggle, but they had to stay at their spot and be quiet. I was very (very!)doubtful that this could work , but after a few tries, much to my own surprise, it became the norm.

Now, whenever I see noisy, restless children at mass, I remember that time of our lives. It also reminds me that we are “normal”, and that every child needs time, but also strong parental guidance, to learn how to act correctly.