A Mary Moment Monday post

Did Mary yell at Jesus? I ask myself that question a lot sometimes.

Like the day I started the draft of this post.

I was trying to remain patient. I was doing my best to keep my voice calm.

I failed. I failed big.

If ever you think I am a model of motherhood or a mentor to emulate, let me set things straight right now. If you look at me and think, “I want to be like Sarah Reinhard when I grow up,” let me correct you loudly. If you smile when you read this and think I’m exaggerating, don’t tell me, because I will want to smack you.

I fail all. the. time. It’s part and parcel of who I am, how I’m made, what I struggle with.

Yelling: an ongoing struggle, a bad habit I fall back upon when I feel pushed, stressed, or otherwise cornered, and something I feel called, of late, to address.

It isn’t going to be easy to address.

Ask my fifth-grade PSR class: I’m not soft-spoken. Ask my husband: I’m not quiet. Ask my friends: I’m not calm.

So yelling fits right in, in many ways, with who I am.

Or so I used to think.

But that question keeps coming up in my mind when I think about yelling. Did Mary yell at Jesus?

Well, maybe she did: ”Jeeeeeeesuuuuus! Time for dinner! Come in, wash up!”

I can’t help but think, with some amusement, that she was one of the only people who could yell his name and not be guilty of breaking the Second Commandment.

On the other hand, I can’t help but continue to feel called to silence in different ways. And in that, my tendency to yell seems to clash.

My husband doesn’t yell a lot. For one thing, he doesn’t need to. When it comes to the kids, he can “growl” with great effectiveness. (Sudden insight: I need to learn to growl!) For another thing, he has presence. I can’t explain it more than that, but I get the feeling that it’s ingrained, not something I can learn.

Did Mary yell at Jesus, the way I slip and yell when I’m frustrated or overwhelmed? Did she give in to the emotion and let it out through her voice?

Is my yelling indicative of a lack of self-control? Does it point to a need for greater trust in others, in myself, in God?

As I consider my own question and Mary’s response in other areas, I think I stand a lot to learn, as usual, from Jesus’ mom. Maybe she did yell, but it wouldn’t have been in a way that would have been sinful. She certainly felt frustration, but did she give in and act on it?

Once again, I find myself turning to Mary and leaning back into her arms. I’m going to do my best, this week, to ask for her help when I’m on the brink of yelling in ways that aren’t positive.

image credit

Today, I celebrate my 35th birthday.

There are at least two things I can guarantee about today.

First, I will get at least one phone call with singing from distant family. After their serenade, we’ll all laugh, they’ll ask how I am, and we’ll hang up.

Second, my daughters are going to enjoy this afternoon. They have been plotting and planning. They are up to something, and my seven-year-old especially doesn’t miss a chance to drop a hint or wink at her father across the room.

I am 35, an age I have never really thought about. Turning 30 was enough of an adventure for the rest of my life, thanks.

I’m not a big celebrator of my own birthday. I’m just not. I don’t know why.

But recently, a friend who has a talent for making me think pointed out something to me, “It’s really not about you.”

And you know, she has a point.

It’s not about me. It might be MY birthday, but isn’t this day more about other people’s celebration of my life? My parents, my husband, my children, and my friends all get a chance to thank God for the scourge pain presence I am in their lives.

Motherhood has stretched me and challenged me more than anything else in life. If I had to put my finger on one thing it’s taught me, it’s that phrase my friend uses to bring me to my senses. It’s not about me.

So today, as I bumble through a Tuesday that will be less typical than last week, I’m going to offer a prayer of thanksgiving for each of the little hurdles and reality checks that are sure to come my way. I’m going to do my best to be grateful for the gift that another year is to me.

And I’m going to eat some chocolate. (Hey, it IS my birthday!)

image source

It made me think how some of the very best gifts I’ve gotten are those that aren’t necessarily something I’ve asked for.

For the mom who wants time alone:

Oh yes, you can be awesome and give her an entire Saturday, but you could also arrange to give her an hour or two every Saturday through the winter, couldn’t you? Winter seems to be a particularly challenging time for me (mentally and physically), and the opportunity to be alone every week would be a truly wonderful gift.

Make this gift really shine by involving Eucharistic Adoration somehow.

For the mom who needs a nap: 

Well, you could make her a coupon or certificate for a nap anytime she wants, but you could also support vocations and hook her up with some Mystic Monks coffee. I had a subscription for a couple of years, and as soon as I can swing it, I plan to get one again. Their Midnight Vigils Blend is every bit as good as everyone says it is, and I’m also partial to their Cowboy Blend.

They just started selling tea, and it’s possible that my long affiliation with Republic of Tea (their ginseng peppermint is high on my list of favorites) could be endangered…

For the mom whose list is longer than your arm:

It’s possible she’s bad at planning or that she’s bitten off more than she can chew. It’s also possible that she’s just in that season of life where things are busy. So why not offer her your help–your actual, physical, full-attention self for a few hours every week? Now, mind you, you might have to be a little sneaky about this. She might nod and thank you and expect you to forget. There’s some accountability you’re going to have to take on to really give this as a gift of yourself to this mom. But wrapping a virtual ribbon around yourself and offering to fold laundry, do dishes, juggle schedules, or any number of other things will be something she won’t ever forget.

For the mom who likes to read:

A gift certificate might be appropriate, but it’s more fun to have something wrapped under the tree, don’t you agree? How about A Book of Saints for Catholic Moms: 52 Companions for Your Heart, Mind, Body, and Soul, by Lisa Hendey, or Stealing Jenny, by Ellen Gable? If she’s tech-savvy, download the Kindle app to her computer, phone, or tablet and hook her up with some of the many free books that are available? (Here’s a site I found the other day with free books available online.)

For the mom who’s technology-challenged:

Can you offer to be tech support for her? To take care of all the annoying little things that come up with her computer, her phone, or her other devices? Can you program her TV, make the remote work with the DVD player, or set up the computer to leave her alone about the anti-virus controls?

For the mom who never stops doing laundry:

Here’s an idea: give her a day off every month. Now, to do this successfully, you have to be able to do that laundry she would have done that day. And “doing” laundry doesn’t just mean washing and drying it. It means folding it and putting it away. And I don’t mean “putting it away eventually,” I mean “putting it away before she gets home.” The idea is that she has a day (or, in the cases of smaller families, maybe a whole week) free from laundry. This is especially good for those moms who hate laundry.

For the mom who needs a friend:

I don’t know what I’d do without my best friend. I have plenty of other friends, mind you, but this one friend is the one I lean on and turn to when I’m feeling particularly cranky or happy. She appreciates the little silly excitements in my day and she also reminds me when I might need to head to Confession or make an appointment for Adoration. Every mom deserves a friend…and while you might not be able to give the mom in your life a friend, you can carve out time to make it possible for her to go and spend time with Jesus, can’t you? Whether it’s making it possible for her to attend daily Mass or allowing her to escape to Adoration, Jesus is the best Person she can spend time with, don’t you agree?

For any mom:

I haven’t met many moms who don’t appreciate some form of homemade gift. One year, for my husband, I recorded my then-three-year-old singing songs for him and burned them to a DVD. I’ve caught him listening to them on his iPod, too. He loves them. And, truth be told, so do I. So, whoever the mom you’re gifting for, consider something homemade, with your heart in it. She’s sure to love it and to appreciate the fact that your heart’s in it.

Your turn! What ideas do YOU have for moms?

A Mary Moment Monday post

I’ve been receiving the Mary Vitamin via email for quite a while, and it’s one of the only email subscriptions I’ve kept over years. It’s also one of the only ones I actually read regularly.

Last week, there was one titled “St. Gerard,” and after I read it, I kept thinking of it. St. Gerard’s feast day was yesterday, October 16. He was special to me before my daughter was born on his feast, but now he’s special in a whole new way.

Each of my kids has been born on a Marian feast. The daughter born on October 16 had a few ties to Mary: she was born during the month of the rosary and the feasts of both Margaret Mary Alacoque and the Purity of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

At least, that’s what I thought her birthday ties to Mary were. And then I read this in the Mary Vitamin:

“‘Before and after every meal,’ [St.Gerard] wrote in his resolutions, ‘I will recite three Ave Marias; when taking a drink of water, one Ave Maria; every time the clock strikes, one Ave Maria.’”

Father Edward Saint-Omer, C.SS.,R.

St. Gerard Majella (Tan Books:1999), 66.

“The Redemptorists are bound by rule to recite five decades of the Rosary, to make a visit to the Blessed Virgin and to say a certain number of Ave Marias every day. They fast, also, on the eves of Mary’s feasts and abstain from meat every Saturday in the year [Saturday being Mary's special day of the week]. Gerard was not satisfied with these marks of filial love. Still more, he recited a Gloria Patri every time he saw an image of the blessed Virgin, whenever he heard her name pronounced and at the beginning and end of every action. His devotion to the Immaculate Conception was incomparable. How often he was rapt in ecstasy before her image!”

Father Edward Saint-Omer, C.SS.,R., 

St. Gerard Majella (Tan Books:1999), 66-7.

I couldn’t help but think, after reading this, of the way this daughter often asks to hold a rosary when she’s in bed. It comforts her. She has a nest of blankies and, now, an assortment of rosaries. When I wash her sheets, I find them, and I tuck them away for when she will ask for them before bedtime.

It is no accident that she’s linked to St. Gerard (not that I ever thought it was), and now that I have read more about his devotion to Mary, I will ask him to guide me in mine and as I expose my children to Mary (especially this daughter with the special link to him).

image credit goes here

By Shelly Kelly

I woke up in the middle of the night convinced that Jesus must have been a preemie.

Or that Mary did not carry him for the full forty weeks we define pregnancy.

I know the Bible is big on the number forty, but it is impossible for me to imagine Mary willingly setting off on a four-day cross-country journey to Bethlehem riding on a donkey during the last two weeks of the traditional forty weeks of pregnancy.

How did she do it? Did she have any hesitation preparing for this journey when she was so swollen with child? How much did her hips and lower back ache during the ride?

How did she get any rest sleeping on the ground? What did Joseph do to make her more comfortable? Did he have to help her up from the ground every morning? How large was she? Was she irritable or calm and serene with a holiness bestowed by God for this purpose?

It occurs to me that all my ideas come from the traditionally told version of the Nativity Story, that implies she was “great with child” laboring as they entered the city, and delivering the very night of their arrival. However, we don’t actually know how pregnant Mary really was when she made the trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem. The Gospel of Luke only says, “And Joseph too went up from Galilee from the town of Nazareth to Judea, to the city of David that is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. While they were there, the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.”   (NAB Luke  2:4-7)

Is it possible that Mary and Joseph traveled and arrived in Bethlehem weeks earlier, when she might have been less uncomfortable? Maybe they were in Bethlehem for the census and delayed their journey home because she was too close to delivering to travel.

My own final weeks of pregnancy are passing slowly, one day at a time, one night at a time. I realize that when I focus too much on my own discomfort and irritability, I’m disconnecting myself from God. Yet this is the time when I should be prayerfully drawing closer to Him. When I don’t, I find myself lying awake in the middle of the night with my head full of thoughts. Often, these thoughts gravitate towards Mary, wondering how she dealt her final weeks, awaiting the delivery of our savior, Jesus.

Hail Mary, full of Grace, grant me the sereneness and inner peace that carried you through your own anticipation of birth. Guide me to fully embrace these last days before bringing forth my own son. 

image credit: National Geographic

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Shelly Kelly is one of the blogging sisters at Of Sound Mind and Spirit. She’s VERY pregnant and looking forward to FINALLY meeting her little guy. (Join me in praying for her and her family as her delivery time draws close!)

A Mary Moment Monday post

My relationship with Mama Mary has seemed to grow almost accidentally. Maybe I was looking for a mom when I found the Catholic Church. Maybe I was looking for more than just a mom, but I needed a mom to lead me to it.

Today, as my real mom celebrates her birthday, I can’t help but smile that it’s also the original feast of one of my favorite saints, Therese of Lisieux, the Little Flower. (Her feast was moved to October 1 after 1969.)

Therese has been a good friend of mine over the years. We don’t seem to have a lot in common, but I continue to learn a lot from her. As I struggle with her little way–doing small things with great love–I naturally think of the moms in my life.

I don’t think I really appreciated my mom until I had my own kids. It’s cliche to say that, I know, but it’s true.

I didn’t realize how brave she had been until I found myself fighting for my own kids.

I didn’t see how much I must have hurt her until I saw the weak spots in my own emotional armor, imagined my children being like I was (and am).

My mom’s not perfect–and neither am I. In fact, I face a huge hurdle when I think of my Heavenly Mama and how perfect she was–and is.

How in the world do you relate with someone who’s perfect and who raised a perfect kid?

Mama Mary found me. She scraped me up off the floor and held me.

Her intercession has led me to reconciliation–both the sacrament and the experience in my own life. She has led me, again and again, to her Son–in the Eucharist at Mass, in the Blessed Sacrament at Adoration, in the people around me.

Today, on my real mom’s birthday, I want to encourage you to embark on this October with a rosary in your hand. Think of your moms–the one here on earth and the one up in heaven–and say a prayer or ten for them. If you’re as blessed like I am to have extra moms, pray for them as well, whether they’re stepmoms or moms-in-law or special mom-figures.

What better gift than a month of prayers for the important women in our life? I think St. Therese would approve, don’t you?

image credit: ClearlyCatholic.com

Part of the Mary Moment Monday series

It was a night that was longer and harder than any I’d had in quite a while, one where I started longing for sunrise at around 3 and dozed in 20 minute intervals. I held my hot baby’s body close to mine and made soft soothing noises, trying to keep the din down so everyone else, especially my overworked husband, could sleep.

When my husband walked by the couch on his way to get ready in the morning, I happened to glance outside my kitchen window, and across the expanse of two rooms, I saw the streaks of pink and the lightening of the sky to a gray-blue.

The day rolled in with a bang of colors, an explosion of cool air and beauty that I couldn’t help but notice. I could barely keep my eyes open and standing up was a chore, but here, visible through my kitchen window, was proof that life could go on and go on with a reason to smile.

With each successive baby, the reality of the long nights and short years of this phase of my motherhood touches me closer to my heart. It seems only a moment ago that I was holding my first baby, wondering what, exactly, I was going to do with her. Now I’m on my third and that first baby is boarding the bus every morning to go to first grade.

I’ve been hearing the phrase “Babies don’t keep!” from more mature moms in my life for many years now, but I’ve finally stopped retorting, “Good thing, too! I can’t take much more!” Maybe I’m finally old enough (and worn down enough?) to appreciate the moments of rocking the current baby’s small body and the downy softness of his hair.

Babies don’t keep, it’s true. They grow taller and begin running off to adventures and scrapes and new friends. They grow smarter and begin reading to themselves. They grow older and acquire their own style and their own taste in everything from music to books to shows.

I can’t help but look to Mary as my children get closer to eye-level in more ways than just height. She surely understands the excitement I feel to finally be able to communicate and be understood by my offspring. She must also, though, see the regrets I feel as I blunder through their growing up. Mary probably never lost her temper or yelled at Jesus, but I think she surely felt the frustrations I feel.

Those babies don’t keep, but neither do the toddlers, or the preschoolers, or the grade schoolers. When they’re teenagers, it will be just as fleeting a time as it is now, though for a whole different reason. Then, when they fly away, I’ll find myself busier than ever with the next level of my vocation.

What can I do to treasure the moments with these people in my life, whether they’re my children or my nieces, whether they’re babies or young adults? How can I step back and let the Holy Spirit speak through my actions and my love for them?

This “Finding Faith in Everyday Life” column originally appeared in The Catholic Times.

A Mary Moment Monday post

I never appreciated sleep as much as I do now that I have kids. I can feel, inside, how I’ve been stretched, pulled, reshaped by this vocation of motherhood.

I’m not sure I appreciate it on Mondays when I start out feeling as tired as I am today.

Dog tired, that’s me. And I have tired dogs to boot.

This will pass. Someday, hopefully, I’ll wonder what to do with all the time I have to sleep and all the sleep I have. Then I’ll be just like those women who tell me to enjoy ‘em while they’re little.

I believe those women. The years fly by, and it’s both a blessing and a curse. One of my friends regularly reminds me that her son–who’s in his 20s–was once the baby with two older sisters. Something in the way she says it makes me realize that the growing we do as mothers doesn’t stop.

Motherhood is a lot of work, and it’s work that doesn’t stop. If you’re lucky, there’s no getting rid of the kids when they’re 18 and technically eligible to get out of the house and live on their own. The worries continue and the work of mothering, though different in many ways, also keeps going.

Today, when I’m debating whether to work or to nap, whether to cuddle or hide with a blankie, whether to take the easy way or muddle through the hard way, I’m going to try to remember to turn to Mama Mary, who was surely dog tired with tired dogs a time or two.

Life was a different back then, more physical and full of real sweat. Did that make it even harder to get up with a fussy baby or a screaming three-year-old?

As I hug my coffee to me and try to not let my to-do list become more important than it is, I’m going to ask Mama Mary to hold my hand. Let’s walk together toward her Son and do the work He has in mind for our day.

image credit: D. Sharron Pruitt

A guest post by Kim Beeghley

In the later part of May, I said to myself, “OH NO! Three weeks until school is out. WHAT am I going to do?”  During this time, three of my four children (ages 13, 10, 8 and 6) were still in school and my six-year-old, who just graduated from kindergarten, was constantly asking me, “When are we going to pick up the kids at school so we can play?”

I started to ask myself, “How am I going to survive the summer?  Are there any camps or events for them?”

I decided I needed to take action.  I needed to find things for the kids to do to fill up the summer calendar and to keep them from killing each other out of boredom.

First, I needed a plan.  Living in central Pennsylvania, I was aware of some things for kids to do in the summer including free bowling, library reading programs, vacation bible school, cheap movies, and (of course) swimming.  I registered the kids for free rounds of bowling (which are AWESOME for those rainy days) and picked out a few movies that we could go see at $2 per person (popcorn before lunch?).

As if my head wasn’t swimming enough, I registered the kids for bible school and the three boys for Cub Scout Camp.  Then my mother called and suggested that each of the kids spend a week with them.  Where am I supposed to fit that into our schedule?  These will be special moments for the kids to spend time with their grandparents and form great memories, though.

At the end of June, the kids (and my husband) were presenting at an international educational technology conference in Philadelphia.  We were there for six days, and it was a terrific opportunity for the kids to give presentations to classroom teachers from around the world.

While these items filled up some of the calendar, I was looking for ways for my kids to keep learning over the summer.   I sent an email out to all my homeschooling friends to see if they had any suggestions for me.

Based on some terrific suggestions, I ordered the summer bridge math (2-3 pages a day) and the Wordly Wise (2 lesson a week) for them to complete.  I also ordered Prima Latina to help build those Latin skills.  Now my summer schedule is finally starting to come together.

Another advantage of living in central Pennsylvania is that we are “centrally” located to many different places.  We can take day trips to places like Gettysburg, Baltimore, Washington DC, Philadelphia, or New York City.  We just pack a lunch and snakes so it can be a cheap trip with only one meal to buy.

With a summer calendar full of fun, we can keep the “I’m bored” comments to a minimum, reduce the amount of fighting between the kids, learn some new things, and most of all have fun!

What are YOUR ideas for fighting summer boredom? What have you been doing with your family this summer?

–

Kim Beeghley and I met at last year’s CNMC and we’ve stayed in touch through Facebook in the year since then. She still hasn’t started the blog she’s been thinking about, but I have hope. She keeps busy with her family in their home in central Pennsylvania.

image from CatholicMom.com

Part of my Mary Moment Monday series of posts

I meant to post a tribute to my four moms yesterday, in honor of Mother’s Day. I didn’t, because my six-year-old and my husband conspired to surprise me in the most delightful series of ways, starting with breakfast in bed.

I’ve been blessed, in my life, to have had an opportunity to be mothered quite a bit. It started with the mom who gave birth to me, continued with the mom who married my dad, and then branched off when I met the guy I would later marry. His mom, you see, took a shine to me. (I’m not sure why, though she claims that “I looked like I needed a good mothering,” and as she’s just that sort of person, I guess she took it on as a challenge from God or something.)

The tribute I meant to write included my “fourth mom,” the one I turn to more than any of the others, the one who has held my hand through the most difficult nights of my life and who continues to be a rock in my faith life: Mama Mary.

In Mama Mary’s mantle, I’ve found a home that does not, in fact, keep me away from the elusive person I’ve always found Jesus to be. It is through her that I’ve come to see that Jesus must be a really great guy, so great that I want to know him better, to serve him more deeply, to commit myself to living as he would have me live.

She’s led me, through the rosary especially, to listen more closely to how God speaks to me and to seek to live in the moment more completely. In her example–from the humility of her ongoing “Yes” to her obedience in every aspect of her life–I find a mentor who does not stand at a distance and shout directions, but one who kneels down, puts her arm around my shoulders, and holds me close.

It might seem funny how a devotion to Mary has made me feel so much more comfortable with her Son. I know it’s a stumbling block for many in the anti-Mary camps. All I can say to those folks, though, is that Mary never ever leads you astray. There is no “making Mary more important than Jesus.” It can’t be done. Really. She always points to Him. Always.

Mama Mary has been, truly, the reason for my ongoing conversion and any advance I might have made in my faith life. Ten years ago, when I was baptized and confirmed Catholic, I was a different person.

When I feel myself slipping–and lately, that’s been often–I know that I can turn to her, grab hold of the lifeline of the rosary, or just sit before her. She doesn’t wag her finger or shake her head. She just holds me. The way I hold my sobbing daughter when her legs hurt from the growing pains. The way my husband holds my daughters when they’re heartbroken about some huge drama. The way, I think, we all long to be accepted and just…held.

That’s who Mama Mary continues to be for me. She’s so much more, but she’s also that. Just that.

And that is plenty. It’s just what I need her to be.

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Incidentally, I’ve been doing a series on Wednesdays at the Catholic Writers Guild blog, and last week I blamed Mary for the fact that I write. Guess maybe I should have called it giving credit where credit is due… :)

credit for this FABULOUS picture of Mary to the University of Dayton