A Mary Moment Monday post

Four letters, two syllables.

Mama.

Sometimes, the soothing balm to my days. Other times, pronounced in certain way, I find myself cringing, knowing what’s coming next.

Mama.

I don’t remember using this term for my own mother-figures. I don’t recall ever saying this as a child, but maybe I’ve just forgotten.

Mama.

It’s a word I don’t hear the teenagers in my life using with their mothers. Has my own seven-and-a-half-year-old started trending away from using it?

Mama.

It’s such a simple word, isn’t it?

Mama.

Though I do call Mary “Mother,” it’s to this word that I come when I think of her.

Mama.

She can be formal, poised on a statue in the front of the church with perfect hair and a well-behaved toddler boy. She can have great make-up and an unreal complexion and unrumpled clothes.

Mama.

To me, she’s more approachable with an apron and gardening gloves, a coming-lose-at-the-temples ponytail and the start of a sunburn. She’s someone I can talk to when I think of her as human (even though I know she was also sinless) and as a mom-friend (though I know she is the Queen of Heaven).

Mama.

Turning to Mary has become natural, but I sometimes forget its importance. I overlook the difference I can make, I will make, when I trust with my whole self.

Mama.

She must touch our temples, she must hold us tight. She must carry us when the tears flow so hard they blind us. She must pray for us when we don’t know what to ask. Even when we aren’t sure anyone else is there. Even when we wonder if it’s worth it to continue. Even when the bright sun can’t fight the dark night.

Mama.

A whole month for Mama. I’m glad I get a day, but even gladder that she gets a month.

image credit: Karen’s Whimsy

A Mary Moment Monday post

In all the years I have been enjoying the month of May, it’s been its designation as Mary’s Month that is my favorite.

There are a lot of reasons May is a great time to remember Our Blessed Mother Mary. There are lots of flowers blooming, and what kid doesn’t want to pick flowers to take to their mother? The weather’s better, and as we trounce around outdoors, it’s hard not to thank God, which is something Mary certainly approves of.

And, of course, there’s the chaos and craziness that comes with May this time of year. Back in my days of working in agriculture, it was planting time, which meant long working hours and high stress. Now that I have school-aged children in my life and my house, it means a different kind of stress.

There are school projects and fair projects, field trips and recitals, games and graduations. There are deadlines galore and the grass is practically leaping out of the earth, demanding to be mowed five minutes after you finish.

I’ve started to suspect that the real reason May is Mary’s month because every mom I know needs some divine help!

Who better than the Virgin Mary? She surely has an idea what “busy” is all about, and she’s going to lead me where I need to go and accompany with the juggling I have to do.

If I hold out my hand, I can almost feel hers grabbing mine. If I look a little closer, I think I see a smile. She chased a small boy once, after all. She tried to keep up with a group of people who didn’t stay put very often. She comforted the broken-hearted and rejoiced in the triumphs.

She still does. This month, hard as it will be, I hope you’ll join me in slowing down and smelling the flowers and maybe even enjoying a Hail Mary while you do.

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

I’m new to the world of mothering boys.

It started a little over two years ago, when our world was already quaking with big changes. I found out we would have a new baby in our arms that fall.

Then we found out it would be a boy.

My husband’s reaction was immediate. This was true with our daughters, too, but it was a very different reaction to this news of a boy.

“Oh boy,” he sighed. “We’re going to have to make some changes.” It turns out he was thinking of his own boyhood orneriness and anticipating what was to come.

I was just unsure of what I would do with a little boy. I figured I had things down, being on kid number three, but oh, how wrong I was!

Read the rest at Integrated Catholic Life.

A Mary Moment Monday post

His little hand is so often wiggling out of mine as he screeches. He has places to go.

His little knees are getting a steady diet of bruises and his nose is covered in scabs from a meeting he had recently with some concrete. He has things to do.

His activity level is constant and both of us collapse at the end of the day. He doesn’t stop.

But that smile! It’s irresistible!

I can’t help it: I show my little man to everyone I can. He’s so different from my girls, and yet he is so very much like them.

What mom doesn’t think there’s something special about her child, at whatever age? What mom doesn’t love a chance to show off her kids? What mom doesn’t savor the chance to snuggle, one last time, with that downy baby head?

Mary must have felt the same way about her boy, times ten and scrubbed for human failings.

It’s why we still turn to her now, why asking for her help doesn’t ever, in any way, go against turning to Jesus directly.

She can’t help it: she takes us right to him.

Getting closer to Mary means getting closer to Jesus. So why have I found that surprising and, somehow, even delightfully scrumptious?

A guy who has a mom is different than the eternal Lord and Savior of the World, who can’t do anything wrong and never had dirt under his fingernails. Though both are true of Jesus, one is more approachable and real (at least for me).

A man whose mom must have shaken her head at his antics (sinless though they were) is different than the perfect person who seems to have been so perfect as to be inaccessible.

A guy with deep brown eyes and an ornery way of smiling is, well, huggable in a way that the statue in the front of church just, well, isn’t.

As my devotion to Mary has grown, so has my devotion to Jesus. I continue to marvel at this. I was the poster child for “I don’t need that stupid God man in my life” not so very long ago, and yet here I am, not just worshiping him, but picturing him with scraps of food stuck in his neck and a fistful of rocks clutched close to his belly as he scurried away to play after dinner.

Mary makes Jesus real. She makes it possible for me to know Jesus, to even like him.

Yeah, I know. I’m supposed to love him anyway. But how do you love someone you don’t know, someone you can’t relate with, someone who seems to be just a figurehead?

I’m understanding better, now that I’m a boy mom, how it is that I can love Jesus. I’m seeing how it’s not only possible, but overflowing from my heart. I’m aware of the goodness that isn’t restricted just to boringness, the laughter that’s not at anyone’s expense, and the ridiculous differences God created within each of us.

* * *

Now, let’s break from the serious stuff. Have you entered to win a Snoring Scholar SurPrize Pack yet?

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