A Talk on Advent

The True Meaning of Advent Here’s a quick quiz for you all. Listen carefully and choose the best possible answer. The true meaning of Christmas is: A. Pushing and shoving other adults out of your way to ensure that your child receives the most coveted gift of the season. If you happen to knock over a small child, well, that’s the mother’s fault. Kids don’t belong in the stores on Black Friday in the first place. B. Skipping the mortgage payment in December…and January, so that your children can spend 3 or more hours on Christmas morning unwrapping everything they asked for. C. Spending mulitiple hours in the freezing cold, risking life and limb, attaching thousands of Christmas lights to every peak of your home so that yours is the best decorated house on the street because afterall, you are obviously the most Christian people in the neighborhood. D. None of the above. If you chose letter D, congratulations! You’re on your way to understanding the true meaning of Christmas, but what about Advent? What is the meaning of the Advent season? “If you have nothing aboove you, you will be consumed by that which is around you” I heard this quote in a homily at Mass this past Sunday. I believe it was from one of the founding fathers. It rings so very true for the Advent season. So many of our brothers and sisters have nothing above them, meaning they do not have God in their sights, and so are consumed by the materialism of the season that surrounds them. Christmas to them is all about the presents and the parties, getting the newest and greatest gifts and giving the same in return. How many people do you know who spend hours searching the internet looking for the perfect something for their babysitter, but spend less than 5 minutes searching their souls before their Advent Confession, if they even go to Confession in preparation for Christmas at all? We are so busy preparing our homes with decorations, cleaning, and cooking, that we take no time to prepare our hearts to receive the amazing gift which is coming to us in the stable at Bethlehem. So what is Advent? Is Advent merely a way for Catholics to extend the Christmas season? Is it all about shopping and wrapping? Is it about parties and visitning? Or is there a greater purpose for this holy season? Advent is a time for preparation. Certainly, cleaning and decorating, visiting, and shopping are all a part of our preparations. Christmas is a great feast after all, and anyone who has ever hosted a dinner party will tell you that no feast can be successful without these preparations. But there is a greater, more important banquet hall which is often times overlooked during this time. This is the hall of our hearts. This Christmas, the Christ child will not come into the physical world as He did on that first Christmas in Bethlehem. This is a remembrance of that time. God does not ask us to prepare a physical stable for His Son, but rather, a spiritual one. Christ will come this Christmas, not into our barns, but rather, into our souls. How will He find us when He arrives? Mary and Joseph traveled the streets of Bethlehem, stopping at every inn, only to be turned away at each of them. How significant the journey of that first Christmas Eve was. This year, as every other year, the Christ child will look down at the earth, to the hearts of His people, to the “inns” in which He desires to be born. And what will He find? First, He will find that many of the inns that He once visited have been closed down. For so long they have gone without “the guest”, that they are no longer awaiting His arrival. They have closed the doors to their hearts, boarded up their minds, and moved on, leaving no place for Jesus to rest within them. Next, Jesus will find inns that are still somewhat open, but which are filled to capacity. These inns are filled with the business of the commercialized season of Christmas. Of Santas and snowmen, shopping and parties. They have no time, no place for Jesus to rest. Then Jesus will come to the little stables of Bethlehem. Whether it be a crude hillside cave as the one Mary and Josephfound on the first Christmas night, or a great palace, ornately decoratedand buzzing with holiday cheer, the Child will know this inn when in it He finds a manger waiting for Him within the hearts of those who dwell there. And how will this manger be prepared? It will be clean of all dirt and debris through the sacrament of Reconcilliation. It will be filled with the warm straw of sacrifice and charity, covered with a blanket of prayer, and tended by the loving owner who has diligently prepared this little place in all humility. Christmas, as I mentioned before, is a great feast, second only to Easter in the Liturgical calendar. Shouldn’t, therefore, Advent be a season during which we prepare as thoughtfully and prayerfully as we do in Lent? Most people think of Christmastime as the season between Thanksgiving and December 25th. They spend this time celebrating with family and friends, purchasing and exchanging gifts, eating, drinking, and being merry. These things are all good, and I dare say God wants us to celebrate His coming in this fashion, but let us not forget, amidst all of that hustle and bustle, that the King is coming, and our hearts need to be ready to receive Him. I challenge us each to look at how we will spend our Advent this year. I’d also like to share with yo now, a few of the ways that our family will prepare for the coming of the Christ Child. First, I like to begin the season with a clean soul. Although the Church only mandates that we go to Confession once a year during the season of Lent, we all know that we do our best work when our hearts have been cleansed of sin. This weekend we will all have the opportunity to receive the Sacrament of Confession and I encourage us all to take advantage of this chance. I know sometimes I find it difficult to properly prepare for Confession because I always have kids tugging on me, toddlers and babies fussing, and older ones asking me, “Mom, do you really think this is a sin?” It will be nice this weekend to be able to sit down with a pen and paper in the silence and be able to just listen to what God wants me to lay down at His feet. I know He will tell me what I need to unburden my heart of before I go into this holy season. When you return home, I urge you to extend this opportunity to the rest of your family. Don’t wait until the week of Christmas. You can always go again if you need to, but begin this season of Advent as close to the Lord as you possibly can. Next, are acts of sacrifice. Advent may be a little more difficult of a season for fasting because of obligations to family celebrations, company parties, and such, but if we choose just one small sacrifice that we can commit to through the season, we will find that we are more easily able to remain focused on the season of preparation amidst a society that skips directly to the celebration. Something as small as avoiding a favorite food could go totally unnoticed by the people around us and yet, in that small sacrifice, we will be drawn so much closer to Our Lord. Now we move on to acts of kindness. Christmas is a time of joy and peace, but how often can the added business of the holiday season create a place of stress and added anxiety in our hearts? Focus on acts of kindness to reign this in. Our family has a couple of traditions that I will share with you. Our first tradition is donating to a local toy drive. I take the children out on a special shopping trip exclusively to buy a toy for a child in need. Whether we drop a random toy in a local donation box, or take a tag for a specific gift from the tree at Church or the store, we make this trip exclusively for this purpose. We do not add extra shopping or errands to the trip. In this way, even the very youngest children are aware of why we are out shopping and nobody overlooks the act of charity they are participating in. The next tradition we have is called “one random act of kindness”. This is a spontaneous act of charity that I look forward to every year. It is done when God places on my heart that it is time. One year we purchased a bag of diapers and left them on the steps at a house with a new baby balloon tied to the mailbox. Another year, I purchased a pair of gloves for a police officer directing traffic at the mall who had forgotten his at home. Small acts such as these help us keep our eyes open for opportunities to give. Other possibilities are paying a visit to a local nursing home to play checkers with the elderly, going Christmas caroling in your neighborhood, or preparing cookie baking bags to donate to your local food pantry. The opportunities are endless. Begin by choosing just one or two of these acts of kindness and adding them to your “to do” list for this Advent season. Confession, prayer, acts of kindness and sacrifice. These are four ways we should all prepare for Christmas with our families. One more thing before I close. I know in my life, I can get so caught up in being good to others that I can often forget to be good to those who I am most called to honor and love. I can be in such a hurry to get all those cookies baked for our friends and neighbors, that I forget to take time to let the kids help roll out the dough. I can be so caught up in getting the house perfectly clean for a party, that I forget the party is supposed to be fun for the kids, not just work. These are the years that memories are made. If you are in a rush to make the perfect dinner, stressed about getting the perfect picture for your card, or too worried about making the perfect gifts to let the kids help, stop. Concern yourself instead with making the perfect memory. Enjoy this Advent season and Christmas will be all that much sweeter.

Thanksgiving Guests (2010)

Thanksgiving dinner was so much fun! This year we decided to have my mom and Bob (my stepfather) up to the little (and I do mean little) house we use on Lake Winnipesaukee. We started with shopping and early preparations on Wednesday. We were busy all day making desserts and meat stuffing and even cooking a practice turkey (the one that gets cut up and frozen because we always seem to end up with two). Thursday we were up bright and early, cooking the turkey for dinner, peeling potatoes and finishing desserts. About an hour before dinner was ready we sent a couple of the boys to the garage to bring in the picnic table which is stored for the winter. I cleaned the top of the table and the benches and covered it with a nice tablecloth. I set both tables with plates, silverware, and linens. Then I started putting the food on the table. Just before the turkey went onto the table I called all the younger kids to crawl under to get to the "wall side". Miss teenager decided to crawl under, too, so she could claim a spot at the regular table where the adults would be sitting. This way she could engage in a more grown up conversation and was less likely to get soda or gravy spilled on her. That's when it happened. Dozens, probably a hundred or more, tiny baby spiders had been nesting under the picnic table and now that they were all warmed up in the cozy little house with the crackling fire, they began to hatch! One of the little girls shouted, "a spider!", then one of the boys shouted, "another one!" As I came to the table to check out the situation, there were suddenly spiders everywhere! Little tiny, baby spiders were crawling around the table, over the forks, and onto the plates. "Save the food!", I yelled. We all scrambled to pull all of the food from the table before the spiders got into any of it. The young children scurried back under the table to freedom and began helping clear the tables and smoosh little spiders with their napkins. Everyone was scrambling; everyone except Miss teenager who had grabbed tight to the nearest little sibling and wasn't letting go! Petrified, she was frozen with fear in the corner, standing on her chair, screaming. The food was saved, the table taken back out to the garage, the dishes cleaned, and Miss teenager freed. We had so much to be thankful for. We sat down at the table, stood by the counter, and retired to the living room with our dinners. We thanked God for His wonderful blessings, and enjoyed our spider free meal. Looking back on Thursday's events, I see the beauty of it all. The table looked wonderful, the children were all calm and peaceful, and the food was perfect. It was a wonderful moment which I thank God for blessing us with.Then the spiders came. Suddenly, there was business and screams and laughter. There were great big smiles and people all scurrying to the aid of one another. This was the life! This was a memory in the making. People see my family and they tell me we're crazy. They give my husband and I all sorts of unsolicited advise about how babies are made and what we're missing out on in life. But the business and the craziness is all part of the loving family which God has blessed us with and which I am thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend! So this weekend, I hope you were given a glimpse at the truth of family love and the beauty of children. I hope, in some way, you had some "baby spider" moments of your own which you will treasure forever! May God bless those baby spiders! (even the dead ones) Happy Thanksgiving to all you wonderful families!

The Misfit Gift: An Oldie but a Goodie

Once upon a time, long, long, ago, I had adopted a crazy tradition from my mother of wrapping all of my Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve. I enjoyed this tradition as I and my poor,enslaved husband would sit in the living room for a couple of hours after the children had gone to sleep and diligently wrap all of our wonderful gifts which we had spent the past month carefully selecting for each child. Then we’d enjoy the delicious cookies and cocoa I had prepared for myself and the kids had left out for Santa. On this particular Christmas Eve, however; we ran into quite a bit of trouble. It really all started a couple of weeks before Christmas with the nightmares. Several days a week, I would wake up in the middle of the night in a horrible sweat and shake Bill to get his attention. “What?!?” he would shout in a panic, thinking something must be terribly wrong with one of the children. “I had the dream again. The one where we forgot Christmas!” I’d cry. His response was always the same. “Go back to sleep, you didn’t forget Christmas.” But the dream was so real. It was Christmas Eve and I had forgotten all about it. It was late, very late, and all of the stores were closed. The children were asleep and we didn’t even have a tree. In a panic, I would run around town, looking for a leftover tree in a darkened tree sale lot. I would always end up finding a scrawny little thing that only Charlie Brown could enjoy. But hey, we needed a tree and this is all that was left. Next I would search all over town for a store that was open. Dracut being a relatively small town; we don’t even have stores, at least not the kind you’d find Christmas presents in. So I would go to Lowell. The only stores in Lowell that were open this late were in the scary sections. Normally I would never travel there after dark, but hey, this is for my kids. I can’t let them think that Santa let them down. So off I’d go to Walgreens in Scaryville, Lowell to purchase the most random and awful gifts I could find, because random and awful is all I could ever find in my dream. So anyway, back to reality. I would sit up in my bed and take a few deep breaths and a sip of water and then lay down and try to fall back to sleep. Finally, it was Christmas Eve, and like I mentioned before, there we were, wrapping our carefully chosen gifts for each of our seven children. Now as I’m sure you’ve heard, or perhaps you’ve even experienced yourself, when there are a lot of children in the house, someone can tend to get forgotten. Well, Christmas time is no different. After wrapping all of the presents, I separated everything into piles so that they could be placed strategically around our very beautiful, very big (because if you remember, we did NOT forget Christmas was coming) tree. I looked proudly at my piles and I counted: Kailah, 7 gifts, Billy 7 gifts, Matthew and Mark 7 gifts each, Daniel 7 gifts, and Amelia 7 gifts. Mission accomplished. Every pile was exactly equal. However, if you know our family, you know that Amelia does not come after Daniel, Christopher does. Christopher! Oh my goodness, I forgot Christopher! It was after midnight, what was I going to do? I searched through the piles to see if I could steal some gifts for Topher from his unknowing siblings. Most of them were either too old for him, or too young, or too girly. I found a couple from Daniel and the twins’ piles and now my piles, my beautiful equal piles (because life is supposed to be equal, isn’t it?) were wrecked. The new count looked something like this: Kailah still 7, Billy still 7, Matthew and Mark 6 gifts each (which no longer coincided in true twin fashion, another pet peeve of mine) Dan 5 gifts, Amelia still 7 gifts, and Topher, poor Topher 4 gifts, purchased for others and stolen for him. This was a good start, but I had to do something. Topher couldn’t get just four gifts, so what was I supposed to do? By now we were pushing 1am on Christmas morning and every store is closed! What was I going to do? Christmas would be ruined by the imbalance of gifts. Poor Topher would be crushed! So, I did what any deranged, psychopathic mother would do in this situation. I called my sister-in-law, Sue, who also happens to be a shop-aholic! I was certain she must have an extra gift lying around her house that I could pass off as intentionally purchased for poor Christopher. And sure enough, not only was she still awake because she’s as nuts as me, she had a gift I could have for Topher. She had purchased it the previous year for Toys For Tots and never got around to delivering it. I didn’t care what it was or who was supposed to receive it. I knew it had been left in the back of her closet, a forgotten Christmas toy like the Charlie in the Box from the land of misfit toys for a reason. This little toy, no matter how terrible a gift it might be was going to save Christmas! Sue, being the kind, sweet woman that she is, rushed it right over to our house. I took one look at the box and knew, this was nothing I ever would have purchased. It was a box of accordion style tubes that connected to little ball-shaped heads and silly hands and feet to make little people. What a dumb toy, I thought, but hey, I was desperate so I wrapped that baby up and stuck a tag on it. To Topher Love Daddy. Hey, I wasn’t going to take credit, or should I say blame for such a ridiculous gift! I know the kids never really looked at the From part of the tag, but I still wasn’t putting my name on it. Under the tree it went, and off to bed we went for three and a half short hours. At 5am our bed was full of jumping, screaming children. Sluggishly we got up from our bed and led the birth-order train down the stairs to the living room. All the children sat in their traditional circle around the tree and we started handing out the presents. One by one, each gift was unwrapped and adored by the children. Then the time came when Daddy handed the crappy, fill-in gift to Topher. He tore the wrapping off like any other gift, not realizing what I knew, that this was a second-hand, forgotten toy from the back of Aunt Sue’s closet! He didn’t care. It was Christmas and this beautiful box had his name on it. When he looked at the gift and showed it to all of his siblings I heard the same ooos and awwws that came with every gift. “Such polite kids” I thought to myself, secretly laughing at how naïve they all were. Finally the presents were all open and Bill and I went into the kitchen to start heating the banana bread and making the coffee. I went back into the living room when I heard some bickering and I found the most unbelievable scene. They were fighting, actually fighting, over that ridiculous toy! It was everyone’s favorite present and all of the kids had put aside their gifts to play with it. How could this be possible? All of my careful planning and all that money I had spent and everyone was fighting over that foolish thing? This was such an injustice. But hey, I laughed at the silliness of the whole situation and returned to helping Bill with Christmas breakfast. Afterall, they didn’t know any better, they’re just kids!

Heroic Friendship

Would you be a friend to Mary Magdalen? Would I? She walks in to church to drop off her child and the other mothers turn their heads. They shun her. They don't necesarially mean to, it's just that they don't know what to say to her, or if they even want to say anything to her at all. She betrayed her husband. She betrayed her children. She betrayed her community. She caused so many to suffer; now, she should suffer for her sin. It's what is just. This scene calls to mind another scene we find in the book of John where we read, "Then the scribes and the pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultry and made her stand in the middle.... 'Now in the law, Moses comanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?'... 'Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.'" John 8:3-7 Christ, in this story, sets a new standard for men. He offers us the oportunity to offer foregiveness. In the old law, there was no room for forgiveness or redemption. The law was firmly set and conversion was not an option. But for Jesus, this situation enables Him to show us the great example of God's merciful love. That's all well and fine for Mary Magdalen, she was a wayward woman with serious issues, afterall. She didn't know God's love or the true faith. But the woman I spoke of above lives in the 21st century. She has the Mass and the sacraments. She knows better. It's interesting to me to hear people speak of others as if their sins are so scarlet red that they can never be forgiven. It amazes me to see how eager we are to accept the conversion of perfect strangers, yet hold out little to no hope for the conversion of our neighbors. Our Catholic church is filled with speakers who tell the most incredible stories of sin and conversion, and we embrace them and hang on every word of their inspiring stories, but when we meet up with one of our Catholic sisters or brothers who are knee-deep in a very similar, painful journey, we turn our backs to them. Somehow, they are not worthy of our love and kindness. Of course we are not to embrace the sinner and tell them not to worry, that God understands. God himself tells us in the corporal works of mercy to "admonish the sinner". Admonish, not shun nor chastize. Their is an important difference. Christ does not call us to be our brother's judge. We may be able to see the sin of our bretheren, but that doesn't give us the entire picture. Often times, we are not privy to what happens after the great offense. We are not in the confessional. We do not experience the penance. We do not feel their pain amd shame. We are not worthy of the intimate details of their healing. So the question that raises up in my heart after hearing this conversation is this: "What kind of friend am I?" Am I a heroic friend? One who could grant forgiveness to even the greatest sinner? Perhaps the sinner does not ask us for our foregiveness. Perhaps they are so ashamed, they can not look us in the eye and beg compassion. Mary Magdalen did not ask Jesus to help her. She did not defend her actions or plead for mercy. She held her head in shame. It was Christ who initiated her conversion. It was He who sent the pharisees and scribes away to reflect on their own sins. It was he who extended forgiveness and offered His heroic friendship. Am I worthy of the title heroic friend? I don't know. I truly hope I am. I know I am a sinner. I know I have judged my bretheren. I know I desperately want to be worthy of being called a heroic friend, because I know that is what Christ calls me to be. But am I?

Timeout with Jesus

I wake up in the morning and discover that my husband has risen early and prepared a fresh batch of waffle mix for breakfast. I feel grateful. The baby wakes up and his diaper is soaked through and the crib is soiled. I feel tired. My ten-year-old offers to change the crib while I clean up the baby. I feel proud. Our 15-year-old twins storm down the stairs. Mark has taken Matthew’s library book again and is spoiling the story by reading ahead aloud. They’re fighting over the book, again. It’s the third day this week they have fought over this book. Frustration is setting in. While I am sorting out the book issue and cleaning up the baby, Daniel has taken over waffle making for his younger siblings. I feel proud again. Daniel is easily distracted and now the waffles are burning. The house is filling with smoke. Anger takes hold. I yell. Kids cry. I cry. As a woman, it is easy to get caught up in the emotional rollercoaster of daily life. How is a mother to deal with the everyday stresses that surround us and threaten to rob us of every joy of motherhood? In the words of St. Padre Pio, we are to “Pray, hope, and don’t worry.” Pray. Hope. Don’t worry. These are some of the most soothing words I have ever heard. A dear friend shared these words from St. Pio with me several years ago and they have resounded in my mind repeatedly ever since. The scene I described above has occurred far too often in my home. Sometimes I weather the storm like a trooper; sometimes I am too weak to stay on my feet. Someone once told me, “If Mama is happy, everyone is happy.” These are words of great wisdom. They’re truthfulness has been proven repeatedly in my own home. But who exactly is in control of this domestic bliss? Who’s responsibility is it to ensure that Mama remains cheerful? It is mine. Domestic peacefulness is the greatest desire of every mother’s heart. This desire can be expressed in many different ways. Usually, a woman’s desire for peace sounds something like this: “I wish the kids would do their chores.” Or “I wish the trash wasn’t always so full.” Or maybe, “I wish the kids would share with each other.” “I wish the se diapers didn’t leak.” You get the idea. You know exactly what I’m talking about because you’re a mother. You’ve expressed these same wishes many times in your own life. Unfortunately, all the wishing in the world is not going to get our houses to clean themselves, our kids to behave perfectly, or the diapers to stop leaking. So what’s a woman to do? We pray. When life begins to overwhelm me, I have to find a quiet spot to spend a moment in silence. I need a timeout with the Lord. When I was young and having difficulty controlling my behavior, my mother would give me a time out. She had these two big, black milk cans that she used to store flour and sugar in, which also doubled as our timeout stools. Whenever we fought, my brother and I would have to sit on the milk cans and face the wall until our tempers cooled and we were willing to apologize. Sometimes, I would pretend to forgive my brother for the evil he had committed against me (because of course, it was always my brother’s fault that we were fighting in the first place), and he would play along in order that we could trick our mother into believing unification had been restored between her children and we would be freed from our cast iron prison stools. As soon as she said the words that released us from our bondage, I would run to my room and play by myself and my brother would go off his way and play by himself, both of us fearing that she would realize she had been duped if we stayed too near to each other and another fight began. What a fool, I thought. Mom knew better though. Her house was peaceful and quiet, the kids were no longer tormenting each other, and she was back to joyfully humming her way through the dishes. Maybe mom wasn’t the fool after all. Often women confuse peace for perfection. We can have a tendency to look at our lives and say, “If these things are in order and these events go as I have planned, then I will have peace.” But God does not promise that if we follow our schedules to a T we will find happiness. No, the joy is in following God’s plans to the best of our ability, and being always humble in the knowledge that we often times fall short of His perfect Will, but that’s okay. Peace is found when we accept that God has a plan for our lives which is infinitely more suited for our salvation than the plans of our own. Accepting God’s will in our lives is the only way to bring true peace to our souls. So how do we stay in tune with God’s will for our lives? The answer can be found on that old, black milk can from my mother’s kitchen. Sometimes, we just need a timeout in our day. Daily timeouts are so important, in fact, that we are asked to schedule them into our day and also allow for intervention timeouts whenever the need arises. We call these timeouts prayer. Every woman needs a place in her home where she can go to spend time with Our Lord. Of course it would be wonderful if we could sneak out to the church every day for a visit with our Eucharistic Lord and sit quietly reflecting before the Tabernacle, but in the business of daily life, often that is just not available to us. A nice room in the house where we can build a prayer room with a comfy chair, some religious pictures or statues, and spiritual books would be lovely, but some of us do not have the extra space. No matter what your circumstances, God will provide for you the time and space that you need to make yourself available to Him for a little one on one each day. For some of us that space is the little nook in the far corner of the master bathroom behind the dummy wall with a pair of noise cancelling headphones on to drown out the banging from the outer door. It may sound silly, but hey, it works. Peace is the Will of God for each of us, although he does not necessarily send us peace of circumstance. Many are called to the stress of the corporate work force, others to the craziness of homeschool days filled with the needs of many children, and others still the business of caring for our extended family or preparing kids for their days at school and running carpools to and from soccer. No matter which path we have been called to, there is business in our lives. I’ve never heard anyone complain that there was too much time available to them for quiet reflection. But with the proper care taken to ensure that we spend some time each day in silent prayer, reflecting on the will of God in our lives that day, we can obtain peace in our souls no matter what the circumstance. In the words of Padre Pio, “Pray, hope, and don’t worry.” God is in control. Take a timeout with Jesus!

“Behold, I am the handmaiden of the Lord”

Sunday morning I woke up at 6am with the baby and made my way downstairs to change yet another leaky diaper. “What is that thing on the floor?” I wondered. It’s a mousetrap. Wait, no, it’s half a mousetrap! And thus it begins. I sit down with my freshly cleaned baby on the couch to nurse, ignoring the mess in hopes to enjoy the one time of the day when I am actually able to feed my baby naturally and out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of something else on the floor. It’s cellophane with orange crumbs. Instantly I am aware of an even greater situation. Something is terribly wrong. I walk slowly into the kitchen with half a hope in my heart, but alas, my suspicions are confirmed. The pumpkin bread I stayed up late preparing for Sunday breakfast is gone. Stolen from my kitchen counter and devoured by dogs! Two loaves of delicious, fresh bread, stolen! I look around at the damage. Trash is spread from one end of the room to the other. Dog poop is piled high, blocking the entrance to the room, and the counter where the bread lay the night before, the only clean spot in the room. I can feel my blood beginning to boil! I dash up the stairs to do what any grown woman would do in this situation, tell Daddy! How is a woman to keep peace in her soul in this situation? So many days begin and end like the scene I woke up to this morning. So many times, my well laid plans for the day are turned upside down by the tumultuous deeds of dogs, kids, or my husband. Sometimes, my mother even comes into play. Don’t get me wrong, I love them all dearly, even my mother, but the simple fact is, they tend to mess up my plans an awful lot. You see, I have an agenda. Each and every day, I wake up with thoughts in my mind about what needs to be done and how the day should play out. Of ten I lay in my bed in the morning while everyone else is still delighting in their dreams, and I plan. Yes, I create in my very own mind a picture of that day, and it is perfect! The only problem with that picture perfect day that I plan out in my mind is that sometimes, no most times, my beautifully mastered plans do not coincide with God’s plans for my day. Now that’s the bummer right there. Did God cause my dogs to destroy my breakfast and wreak havoc in my home this morning? Does it give him joy that I should wake up to this kind of chaos? Of course not. So what is a girl to do? Where does one find peace in the tumultuous occurrences of daily life? This peace can be found only at the foot of the cross. People often see me and hear about my family and ask, “How do you do it?” or simply volunteer that I am much greater than they are for they “could never do it”. But the fact is, I can’t do it either! But with God, all things are possible. My husband and I have been married 17 years and are the proud parents to 18 chickens, two dogs, one bunny, and nearly a dozen natural offspring. Our house is filled from one end to the other with people, toys, and homeschooling paraphanelia. Our security system is that of millions of tiny Legos that would trip up even the stealthiest of burglers in the dark of night and quite often myself in the light of day. This place is crazy to say the least. Ah, yes, I find myself daily at the foot of the cross. The beauty, however, of going daily to this place of mourning and perdition is that I am never alone. There is a woman there, a mother, who never leaves. She remains there, her eyes fixed on her son, and receives from Him, all of humanity as her children. This is where I find my peace. In the ups and downs and daily trials of this earthly life, it is easy to lose our peace and to fall prey to the emotional traps set forth by the devil to trip us up and draw us from the foot of the cross. We must remain steadfast and keep our eyes fixed upon Him. If we do this, His mother, our mother, will reach over and wrap her loving arm around us. She will place her mantle of love over us and we will be sheltered in her tender gaze. This is where we will find our peace. Only by becoming like the mother who so readily accepted the Will of the eternal God, will we ever find true peace. Even when all is well and things seem to fall perfectly into place with our carefully laid plans, there cannot be true peace unless those plans have been taken to the foot of the cross and placed in the hands of His holy mother and offered as a gift to her divine Son. So as I return to the scene of the crime, and ponder upon God’s plan for my day, I am brought back to the foot of that cross, to the side of that beautiful mother, and I have a choice. One choice is to allow the devils taunt to enter my heart and rob me of my peace, or I can roll up my sleeves, get out my supplies, and clean my way to Heaven in the peace of the Lord. And I must remove the mouse remains from my couch!

Desperately Seeking Justice

Last night, my husband and I went with some friends to see a movie called Restless Heart. The movie told the story of the life of St. Augustine. Most Catholics know of St. Augustine as the wayward young man turned bishop by the grace of the Holy Spirit and the ceaseless prayers of his holy mother, St. Monica. When the movie was over and the credits had rolled, my friends and I were left with the same question, “What about Calida?” Calida was the servant given to Augustine when he arrived in Milan to work as an orator for the emperor. Calida was a faithful servant to Augustine who eventually fell in love with him, and he with her. Although she could never marry Augustine because she was a slave, she devoted her life to him and eventually bore a son by him. When the child was barely a few years old, Augustine was asked to marry the daughter of a high official, uniting the two men and their power. Overhearing this conversation, Calida decided to leave Augustine and her child in order to serve the best interest of those whom she loved most. By the end of the movie, Augustine had converted to Catholicism, become the bishop of Hippo, and laid down his life for his home and his faith. Calida, however, had never been mentioned again. My friends and I were left with a pit in our stomachs and an ache in our hearts. “What about Calida?” we wondered. Our motherly hearts cried out for this woman who had sacrificed everything, that justice be hers. It is our natural human reaction to want justice. Just as my friends and I wanted justice for Calida, I have often found so many times in my life that I have been overwhelmed by frustration due to what had appeared to me to be injustice. What is justice, and when is it good? Justice itself is a cardinal virtue and therefore intrinsically good. But there comes a time when our desire for what we see as justice can be anything but good or holy. There comes a time when our insatiable longing for justice can be the very means by which our peace is destroyed. Take a child for instance. If a child is given a piece of candy and one of that child’s siblings comes along and takes that candy, and consumes that candy, the child will go immediately to his mother and cry out for justice to be served. The child wants his sibling to be punished. The child wants retribution. The child’s heart has lost its peace. His peace has been overthrown by the unquenchable thirst for justice. When is the search for justice not in God’s plan? When that search for justice overwhelms the soul and steals away the peace of one’s heart. As a mother, I have struggled throughout the years with the desire to be just. At first, I always wanted to be fair. If my daughter received a lollipop, I would immediately extend my hand to receive a lollipop for my son. If my son was offered a playdate with a friend, I would automatically find a friend for my daughter to spend that time with. I spent much of my days making sure that every opportunity one child received was also offered to the other. This constant quest for fairness at some point overtook my heart and claimed my inner peace as its prisoner. In all of history we see many times when injustice seemed to reign. Jesus Christ, the son of God, was born to a poor family in a stable in the night. As he grew, his family was forced to flee from their home in order to protect him from Herod whose jealousy and greed had set in his heart a desire to find and kill the child. As Jesus began his mission, his teachings were rejected in his own homeland and he was forced to preach in foreign lands. And finally, as Christ was undergoing his final persecution, his friends turned their backs on him, denied him, and hid in fear. Christ however, did not seek revenge, nor justice, against these people. Rather, he prayed for them and forgave them their trespasses against him. In my life, learning to allow God to be in control, permitting him to be the ultimate authority in dispensing justice, has brought me great peace. Knowing that I am not the judge and accepting that God is in charge of passing judgement on us all, has enabled me to grow in love and charity toward others. A great peace takes over ones soul when they come to terms with the fact that they are not the ultimate authority. When we realize and accept that we all must answer to our Lord and God for our lives, there grows a great peace in our souls. Accepting that I am not my brother’s judge has enabled me to release my records of the faults and failings of others and to focus on God’s will for my own life. Peace is a great gift that God wants to give to us all. There is a parable in the Bible that tells us the story of the vineyard owner who goes out to hire daylaborers throughout the day to work in his vineyard. At the end of the day, the owner gives to each of the workers a full day’s wage, beginning with those who began later in the day. Disturbed by the apparant injustice, the workers who had given a full day and been paid the same as the rest, begin to complain to the vineyard owner. But the owner refutes them saying that he gave them what was owed to them, and asks if he does not have the right to do what he chooses with the things that are his. The story of this landowner falls dear to my heart, as I am that laborer who worked the full day in the field. I am the laborer. At least I see myself at times as that laborer who has contributed a full day’s work. Often I have complained to the vineyard owner that what I have received is unfair and unjust. Many times I have wrapped myself in the blanket of self-pity, only to find out that this blanket does not give me comfort. Only when I am able to let go and allow God to be the judge and deliverer of justice do I find true peace in my soul.

If I Could Give You One Gift

I entered the funeral home this afternoon and was struck by the stark emptiness of it all. The baby’s tiny casket sat in the front of a large empty room surrounded by a few bouquets of flowers. Her parents stood to the side. There were a few rows of wooden chairs lined up as if for a service, although the service never happened. There was no cozy furniture or soothing paintings on the walls like other funeral parlors I’ve visited. The whole thing was just empty and cold. My husband and I walked up to the father of the child, a man we’d never met, and he embraced us each and thanked us for coming. Next, we approached our niece. As I held her in my arms for a moment and expressed, to the best of my ability, the sorrow I felt for her in the loss of her child, my heart tore and my tears flowed uncontrollably. I wanted desperately to tell her that things would be okay, that she would get through this. But all I could do is cry. After pulling myself away from my dear niece, I walked over to the little casket. The cover was closed and there were no pictures of their precious child. It was hard to imagine that in this box laid the body of a sweet baby girl who only a month ago kicked wildly in her mother’s womb, a happy, healthy child. How could this be? I approached the casket and went to kneel and offer my prayers for her eternal soul, but there was no kneeler. That’s when it struck me that this family was suffering their loss alone. Peace is something that comes to us as a gift. It is given to us by our divine Lover who knows that without His peace, we simply would not be able to cope with the trials of life. Even in the darkest hours of my life, I have always felt the peace of knowing that God was with me. Any trial I have ever had to endure has always been bearable by reflecting on the cross and knowing that no pain I could ever suffer would take away the love God has for me. In fact, through my sufferings, I am brought closer to Christ and His blessed mother who suffered more than any mother could ever imagine. I wish desperately that my niece could know the love of our Lady and unite her broken heart to the mother of the world who knows every bit of her pain. Unfortunately, my dear niece does not know the peace that comes with the gift of our Catholic Faith. She was never taught the faith of her grandmother, because her own mother and father have never shared that faith with their children. How will she ever be able to cope with the loss of her child; how will she make sense of this tragedy? If I could give you one gift, my dear niece, I would give you the gift of faith. For it is only through faith that we are able to make sense of our suffering. Only through faith can we feel the peace of God in the midst of our desperation.

When the kids just don't get it

A Friend of mine was telling me in an email about this great Mass that she had planned to take her family to and how it's a teaching Mass and is such a great opportunty for her family and how her son, being a typical teenager, doesn't really want to go. He doesn't see the value in it and that is weighing on this poor mother's heart. Here's my response to her via email. I hope it helps you as well. Sometimes I think the hardest thing in life is striving so hard to give our children these opportunities and having them be completely uninterested and unable to see the value in what we are showing or offering them. Today, Bill needed some of the boys to go with him to load his trailer with firewood that was given to us. It's a huge gift that will save us a ton of money in heating cost. Of course the boys are just beside themselves that they will not get paid money to do the job. They just don't get it. At first I was angry with them, but Bill told me,"Don't worry, someday they'll remember these times and feel sorrow for their selfish thoughts and they will have learned from the experience." I know he's right. When I was young my mom was single and worked constantly to pay the rent and put food on the table. I had a summer babysitting job making $150 cash every week. Did I ever once stop to think about how hard my mom was working or how much she was struggling? Did I ever offer to help with the rent, food, or even to buy my own school clothes? No. I spent my money buying pizza for myself and all of my friends, and gifts for people to try to make them like me. I look back on those days now and I feel sad that I didn't see my mother's needs and try to help her. My mom never approached me for help, but I wonder how I would have responded had she asked me. I honestly don't know. What I do know is that as a mom, I see everything as a grown up and I sometimes forget that these kids are all still just kids, even the big ones. Does it excuse them for their behavior? No. But what it does do is give me hope that the constant struggle is worth it. Although they may kick and scream and we often feel like throwing in the towel, we just can't give up. We must press on for our children! Fear not Mamas. We will rest in Heaven when our work is done!!

The Little Terrorist

My two-year-old is a terrorist. I know, that's really an awful thing to say about my own child, but that's how it feels lately. He is constantly throwing things at people, crumpling our school papers, beating up his big sister, and genearlly reaking havok in our home. Some days I don't understand how I ended up with eleven children. I look at his naughty behavior and ask myself, "Were they all like this? How could I possibly have gone through this 9 times before?" But the fact is, yes, they were all like this. In fact, in some ways, they still are. Actually, the more I think about it, I'm still like this myself. You see, I am a lot like my son in many ways. Granted, I don't throw laundry around or bite my siblings, but I do fight with all my might against the will of my Heavenly Father. God has a beautiful plan for my life and I know that if I were to follow that plan, I would be happy. That's not to say I would never be tired, or that I would always get to do what I wanted, but I would be happy in the peace of knowing that I am doing the Will of God. But the reality of this earthly life, is that it is in our fallen nature to fight against what is good for us. Just try piling a heap of cauliflower on your kid's plate and you'll see what I mean. We don't want the good stuff. We don't like the good stuff. It doesn't taste good. But if we could only lay aside our own, fallen, imperfect wills for just a moment and focus on the beautiful, holy Will of the One who made us, we would see that He is the only one who knows how to make us truly happy. Lord, help me to lay down my life today in union with your Holy and perfect Will. Help me to die to myself when things don't go my way. When my toddler throws the laundry, help me to refold it with love. When my daughter whines about her school, help me guide her with tenderness. Help me, O Lord, to put aside my wanton desires and to strive to see you in the daily challenges of my life. Help me to see my duties as wife and mother, not as drudgery to be avoided or minimalized, but as oportunities to grow closer to my family and to serve You with a loving heart so that someday I may rest peacefully in your Divine Presence. Amen.

Well, it's here. The new school year is upon us. I walk into the grocery store and I see the joy on all of the mother's faces. I see their freshly polished nails and their perfect ponytails, and their skimpy little workout suits and nice, new sneakers and I wonder, "Why me?" Their kids have all returned to school and they have returned to the six hours of daily freedom that they think is so important. As I check out with my groceries, the clerck looks at my items and asks if I'm shopping for back to school. "No," I reply, "we're actually having a birthday party for my son tonight." Then comes the next question typical of late August / early September... "Are you happy their back in school?" Of course now I begin to explain that although the children have begun the new school year, they are still home with me. "We homeschool." I explain. I receive a sympathetic look at first, but then she starts to think about the other Dracut homeschoolers. "There was another family who homeschooled," she begins. I know what's coming. I've found myself in this conversation so many times in the past, it's practically scripted. "Yes," I respond, beating her to the punch. "I know the Notinis as well. They're actually the reason I started homeschooling." Then I went on to explain, as I have so many times before, that when I met the Notinis many years ago, I was taken back by how polite and kind they all were. They were comfortable with themselves and they were comfortable in their environment. I had asked myself, "What makes those kids so special?" I had never even heard of homeschooling, but when I heard that is what they did, I knew immediately that this is what I wanted for my precious little girl. Now, sixteen years later, and ten more kids in tow, I find myself entering our thirteenth year of homeschool. Day one went okay considering that we had just returned from a four day camping trip, there were hardly any groceries in the house and even less school books, and the laundry was piled up to the ceiling. By day two, my outlook was not quite so good. In fact, by lunch time I was in tears and plotting my survival in the local school system. I was begging God to show me how to make public school work, to provide me with an "out" and save me from the chaos of another year of homeschooling. To save the kids from another year of school with mom being disorganized and holding them back from their potential. I was certain that anything, even the local schools, would be better for them and for me than what we were doing. So I decided to call off school for the rest of the week to get my ducks in a row. "We'll start over on MOnday." I told myself. And I spent the next couple of days cleaning laundry, writing lesson plans, and buying groceries. This brings me back to that supermarket this morning and my conversation with the clerk. "So why do you homeschool?" she asked. I thought for a moment, and I finally decided on my reason for this week. "Because I am against big government," I replied, "and I don't want them influencing my children." Funny. I've never used that reason before. It had never been the thought first in my mind when asked about homeschooling. Perhaps because I watched Obama abd Biden speak last night, or perhaps it was because of Kailah's realization from only one day at Community College that they are very biased in support of the democrats. I don't know what it was, but that answer resounded in my mind as I walked through the parking lot to my car. My conversation with the clerk had brought up some feelings that had been slightly burried in the business of life. First, that I don't want programmed robots for kids. I like the fact that my kids think independantly, get along with people of all ages and abilities, and find protesting abortion with their friends to be a noble cause and even a little fun. I also reflected on the programming of children taking place in the public school system and how I don;t want my children to be brainwashed by the liberal democrats of this nation. Then, as I put my groceries into the back of my van, an elderly man was walking by and he noticed my van and all the groceries and he said, "Big families are nice." He continued to tell me about his life with six siblings and how much he loves to hear from them today. Then, as he turned to walk away, he said, "it'll be okay." Why? I asked myself. I didn't mention that I was feeling down or overwhelmed. Why did this man say this, of all things to me today? But of course I know, God has a message for me, and for all moms who are overwhelmed, feeling inadequate, and thinking maybe the government would do a better job with our kids than we do. "Be steadfast and know that I am with you."

Summer Blessings

As Summer begins to wind down, I sit and reflect on all we've done, and all we'd still like to do. This Summer, as with all Summers, we've made sweet memories with our children that we will forever cherish. Long days in the pool, hiking to beautiful waterfalls, and BBQs with family and friends are among the cherished moments of the season. My favorite memory of this Summertime however, is a phone call received from my eldest daughter. We had planned a family camping trip in NH for the first time after missing two Summers of camping and Kailah had asked us if she had to go. She remembered the bugs and the days without showers and the uncomfortable camper beds. Kailah had declared more than once how much she disliked camping. So instead of fighting with her to go on this family vacation, Bill and I conceded and arranged for her Godmother to stay at the house with her while we were gone. A mere two days into our week long trip, I received a phone call from Kailah. She was lonely and wanted to come to the campground earlier than her planned visit. She gave away her hours at work, cancelled her plans, and headed to the mountains. Sitting around the campfire, toasting marshmallows, and playing cribbage seemed all the more sweeter with our entire family together. But I realized that this sweetness was only possible by letting go. As much as we had wanted to tell Kailah she must go with us and be a part of our family trip, we were led in another direction. We were led to let go and to realize that she is nearly grown now and has to be allowed to make some decisions on her own. By doing so, we were rewarded with her longing to be with us. The sweetness of those words, "I miss you", coming over that phone still rings in my heart. As much as we may disagree and as much as she pulls to be free, I know her heart is with us. Heading now into her first year in Community College, I have a distinct sorrow that my little girl is so grown up. I look back on all the days, and years of her childhood with so much fondness. I remember her curled up on Daddy's lap watching the campfire. I remember her first year of schooling when she wanted me by her side to see everything she did in her Kindergarten workbooks. I remember her passion at gymnastics when she finally achieved a new skill and her first hit in softball. I look back over all the years of her childhod and realize how blessed my life has been with her as my daughter, and I know that I will continue to be blessed by her presence in my life. No matter how old she gets or where she goes in life, she'll always be my girl. She'll always be the one who made me a mom. She'll always be my Kailah Jayla! I am so proud to have such a strong and wonderful daughter. God has truly blessed me!

Taking Back my Sundays

Last weekend, Bill and I split up for Mass. He ran off to the 9am shortly after getting out of bed and took Billy with him. He wanted to get home and get an early start on building the swing set my mom bought for the kids. It's one of those big, industrial ones that will last forever and take a whole day to assemble. I jumped on the computer to find a local Mass that I could squeeze in for the rest of us without waiting until noon for our regular Mass. Off I ran to St. Francis in Dracut for the 10:00 missing my husband and two oldest kids. (Kailah joined her father and brother because she had plans that day as well.) When we returned from Mass, the men were already getting to work on digging holes for the posts. We were all given various rakes, shovels, and wheelbarrows and instructed in what needed to be accomplished that day. We needed to get the hay off the new grass. We needed to clean up the mess at the bottom of the driveway. We needed to move the rocks to the wall. Nice. Love it. There I was raking the hay when someone came and told me, "Mom, Dad wants to see you." So I went out to the back yard to find out what task he was looking for me to do now, even though I was not done with the first job. That's when it happened. Bill asked me the one question that would put me over the edge. Aparantly, I had purchased the wrong length of 6x6's and they needed to be exchanged. He looked at me with his sweetest eyes and pleaded, "Will you go to the Home Depot?" Dead. The man just committed Sunday yard work cooperation suicide. (I bet that's the first time you've ever heard that phrase.) There was no way I was going to the Depot again. Not on Sunday! I was tired. Tired of the Depot. Tired of work. and tired of never getting a day off to spend with my family. My whole family, Bill included. So I looked straight in his eyes and said quite simply, "No." Bill was astonished. I NEVER say no. I am always willing to run errands for him. So he looked at me puzzled and said, "I thought you wanted this built?" "I do." I reassured him. "But not on Sunday. Today I want more than anything to take a day of rest. I don't want to work. I don't want you to work. I want you to spend the day with me and the kids. All of this work will still be here tomorrow. Let's play." Knowing it was the truth, that this was Sunday, the Lord's Day, he conceded. He didn't want to work on Sunday either. He wanted a day to rest, but the honey-do lis t had gotten so long that the only way he could see to accomplish all he needed to get done was to just keep on working. I had placed such an enormous load of needs on his shoulders and the only day he wasn't working in this busy Summer season was Sunday. He wanted to be a good husband and father. He wanted to give us what we wanted. I wanted grass and a flower garden in the front. The kids wanted their swing set. He wanted to please us. Putting aside our tools and walking away from our chores, we all got changed once again and met in the pool. We swam and played for hours. We warmed up some leftovers for dinner and then made ice cream sundaes for dessert. When the sun started to go down, we went inside for a family movie and we all curled up together and watched. That night we went to bed tired from a long day of play and woke up Monday morning feeling refreshed and fulfilled that we had given that day to each other, to our children, and to God. This week has been amazingly productive. I have done more around the house this week than I have all Summer and I know it is because we took the time to give the Lord what is due to Him. Our Lord will not be outdone in generosity. If you feel caught up in the craziness of life. If you feel like there's never enough time in the day. If you feel like you are forever working and never getting anywhere, take a good look at your schedule. Are you giving the Lord His day? We know it is important, there's a whole commandment about it. But we forget that this commandment is not for the Lord's good alone. This commandment is for our good. God, our generous and loving Father, knows His children. He knows that we need rest and recreation. Listen to Him. Take back your Sundays.

"Here we go again, another 40 days without chocolate."

With Lent beginning again, it's time to think about how our family will prepare for the coming Passion, death, and resurrection of Our Lord. When I was a kid, we sometimes went to church but often did not. Sacraments weren't necessarily done at the usual ages, and Confession, well, I didn't really know much about that. I remember my first Confession, but I don't remember ever going to Confession after that until I was getting married. In our house things are quite different.

Lent in our home begins with the cleansing of the soul as we approach Ash Wednesday and prepare to recieve our ashes as a sign that "we are dust". Many people attend Mass on Ash Wednesday to receive their ashes, and then don't step foot back inside a church until Palm Sunday when they go to receive their palms. I once heard that Ash Wednesday and Palm Sunday are the two most attended days in the church year. I don't know if that is really true or not, but it does cause me to stop and think.

Why do people go to Mass on these days? What is so special about them for people who don't ordinarily attend Mass? The answer is found in one word, receive. They go to receive their ashes and to receive their palms. The sad thing is that many Catholics, even practicing Catholics, live their lives in such a way. Many live as Catholics because of what they will receive. They worry about receiving the help of God in life, they want to receive the blessing of children, or a better job, or financial stability. Some wish to receive the esteem of being known in their parish and they serve on many committees and counsels in order to receive the praise of their fellow parishoners or their pastor.

Being Catholic is not supposed to be about what we will receive. Being Catholic is about honor and praise due to our God with no expectation of temporal reward. Lent is a perfect time to reflect on this reality and to bring it to the forefront of our daily lives.

During the season of Lent, we are called to do penance. Many people look at this and say, "Here we go again, another 40 days without chocolate." This is not the outlook God is asking us to have during this most sacred season in the church calendar.

Lent is a time of unity with Christ through penance. Penance is traditionally a three-fold action consisting of sacrifice, prayer, and almsgiving. Christ gave up the comfort and glory of Heaven to be here with us and to redeem us from our sins. Christ spent forty days in fasting and prayer in the desert where He was tempted by the devil. Once a year, the church asks us to do penance in memory of Jesus' time in the desert and in preparation for the great feast on which His mission here on Earth was completed and our redemption was fulfilled.

How do we prepare for Lent? In our house there are many opportunities to bring us closer to God during this period of preparation. First, as I mentioned before, all souls are cleansed through the healing powers of the priest in the Sacrament of Confession. Next, there is a sacrifice to be made. Each member of the family who is of the age of reason (beginning in their First Communion year) must choose something to "give up". As the spiritual guides of our children, my husband and I take an opportunity to speak privately with each child to be sure that they are making an appropriate sacrifice. Often times, they have done a good job praying about their sacrifice and have chosen something just right, but sometimes we have to tell them to either beef it up a bit, or to tone it down some. There are always one or two who try to get away with the very least sacrifice possible becasue sacrificing hurts. And there are alwasy one or two who are feeling extremely zealous when choosing their sacrifice for the season and we have to take them back a step and guide them into sacreficing something that will not put them over the edge just three days into the season! We have found in the past that this is a great source of joy for our children who are happy to offer something back to the God who they have learned has given so much for them. We usually have a toddler who want s to join in the sacrifice as well. These young children are encouraged to make one time offerings such as not having a cookie at the grocery store or a lollipop at the bank. They are too young to make a sacrifice commitment for the full forty days of Lent, but they take great pride in their little offerings to Jesus!

The next part of our Lenten penance is prayer. This is a great time to add extra Masses and chaplets to our days. Once upon a time, we used to attend daily Mass at 6:30 am as a family. With the demands of daily life and the wearriness of pregnancy, we have fallen from that routine. Lent is a great time to jump back on the bandwagon if you will. If not everyday, at least one or two extra days of the week should be offered to attending Mass. Another thing I like to do is add the Divine Mercy Chaplet at 3pm. I have an alarm set in my cell phone so that no matter where we are, we can take that time and pray the chaplet and remember His sorrowful passions. The Divine Mercy Chaplet is a beautiful devotion that adds spendor to oour day. I especially like to sing this devotion with my children. If the Rosary is not part of your regular routine, I highly suggest this be added first as Our Lady is the greatest way to get closer to Jesus' Holy Heart.

The third and final aspect of our penance is in Almsgiving. In our family right now, there is not a lot of money to be had and therefore, not a lot to be given. We give our usual amount in the church collections and do try to give a little extra as well, but I also like to look at almsgiving in a greater sense than simply the giving of money. Almsgiving can be done by everyone in the home by the giving of their time, love, and assistance. Taking out the trash for someone else is a gift of one's assistance. Stopping what I am doing to listen to a child's story or concerns is a gift of my time. Taking a minute to pause and pray before responding to the frustrating actions of another is a gift of our love. All of these are ways to give alms and spread family unity and peace during this Lenten season.

I hope this entry will give you a little food for thought as you embark on your Lenten journey. This is such a wonderful time for us as Catholics to examine our lives and get things back in chech if needed. It is a time to bring our hearts and minds closer to God and to remember all the wonderful treasures that being Catholic brings to our lives. Have a happy and holy Lent, and may the peace of Christ and the Love of His Blessed Mother be with you on this journey.

Life as a Desrosiers

In the beginning there was a man and a woman.... then the kids started to come. They kept coming, and coming, and coming! Today we are awaiting the arrival of our 11th child. People always look at us in amazement and wonder out loud, "How does she do it all?" The truth is, "I don't". Large family life is a different animal all together than small family life. Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I could not possibly do all of the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, and the caring for by myself. I employ, first, the grace of God to help me in the duties of daily life. Secondly, I must employ the children. Each child has his or her daily duties which they are responsible for as well as their personal care. Mom does not pick up dirty laundry off of the bedroom floor for any of the children. If you want clean clothes, you need to bring down your laundry yourself. Every member of our family is responsible for a chore that effects the entire family. Whether it is to wash the table after meals, tidy up the mudroom, or gather the eggs from the chickens, each member of the family has a duty they are responsible for which effects the entire family. Some people today may think it's not fair to make children work as we do around the house. But Bill and I say "That is ridiculous!" Teaching our children to be responsible for themselves and to help one another is the greatest gift we can give them after life and family. Our children are being raised to be responsible and productive members of society.
Another thing we are teaching our children to do is to step up and help out with the needs of younger siblings. Not a child is raised in our house who can't change a diaper! In our family, you are expected to respond to the needs of others as they arise. If Tommy, our two-year-old, is looking for his chocolate milk, he can go to any one of his siblings and they will help him get it. If Dad needs help in the yard, you are expected to go out and help.
There is no allowance given in our home. The duties and responsibilities of family life are a family responsibility, and nobody gets paid to help maintain our family or our home.
Sounds like a tyranny? It's not. There is plenty of time to play and enjoy leisure time. One of the beauties of homeschooling is the speed at which the daily schoolwork can be accomplished. Every child knows what he or she is responsible for accomplishing that day and when the work is finished, the rest of the day is theirs. And when you're free to play, there are always plenty of "friends" to play with.
Large family life is noisy and busy and often cahotic to say the least, but there is a joy taht comes from life in a big family that can only be known by members of one. Having grown up with only one sibling, I am experiencing something I had never dreamed of and could never begin to explain in all its splendor and awesomeness!