Every year at this time, as we enter into a season of self-giving and penance in preparation for Our Lord's crucifixion, I am always full of grand ideas for the family. We will pray more, fast even when it isn't prescribed, give up sweets, video games, TV, and bathing in hot water. All the children will sleep on the floor in hair shirts, and every penny of their allowance will go to the poor. I will never yell. Every craft will be Lent themed with purple construction paper, and mournful remembrance. We will be holy damn it, and God will be pleased.
It is typical for us humans to start these forty days with great vigor and purpose. It's similar to New Year's when we set out to change everything we think needs changing only to set ourselves up for failure. As always, our kids are watching, and the longer I go about this parenting mine field, the more I realize that simple is better.
Focus is good, crafts are nice, penance is necessary but what do we really want our kids to learn during Lent? I don't want them growing up just thinking that there was this weird part of every year, sometime around Spring Break, where we didn't do anything fun and felt guilty every time we ate a cupcake.
So here are a few things I've learned about celebrating Lent as a family (yes celebrating, we are joyfully entering into a time of sacrifice with Our Lord in expectation of his Resurrection).
Create a Visual Reminder: Come up with one or two ways to remind your kids that we are in a special season of the Liturgical year. I used to go crazy with crafts and things, over doing it so much that it was just too much and so we never kept up with any of it. Now, like many families I know, we have settled on a simple "Crown of Thorns" on the dining room table. We place toothpicks in the crown and every time one of the children does an act of kindness, or a small sacrifice he or she can take the "thorn" out. This keeps them focused and motivated but it also reminds them that they can relieve Jesus's suffering by participating in it. No, giving up a cookie is not the same as dying on a cross, but offering it up because Jesus died on the cross will mean something to them (eventually).
*** For the little kids instead of the sharp toothpicks I cut out a simple cross on purple construction paper and they get to glue a cotton ball to it for their sacrifices, making a soft place for Jesus. Even a two-year old likes this and you can let him do it for something as simple as bringing you a diaper.
Ask your kids what they think they should give up: As my two older boys grow in their faith it is very humbling to see them decide what they should give up. They are often more focused and deliberate about it then I am and they are incredibly resolute once they've chosen their sacrifice. However it is also our job as parents not to allow them to be too scrupulous or unrealistic and talk to them about why we are doing any of this in the first place. Help them get to confession, go as a family if you can, and keep the focus on God's forgiveness and love.
Pray together: This is so simple, and yet so hard to do sometimes. Our lives are so busy, evenings are difficult when you have many small children (or any children) and stopping to pray can just seem downright impossible. But Lent is a wonderful time to force yourselves to stop and pray as a family. Don't commit to a full Rosary every night if you know you won't make it, just decided that you will say some prayers as a family and go from there. This also provides a wonderful opportunity to talk about examination of conscience, and what God has taught us through Lent so far. Of course sometimes it's just a Hail Mary with a baby screaming, a toddler dancing and your five-year-old making faces forcing everyone to contain their laughter but at least your praying.
Teach them Virtues not Rules: It's important that we all stick to our commitments but it's most important that we learn something and grow in virtue. We are just here to facilitate whatever God wants to do in their lives. We can learn so much from their spiritual innocence and facilitate a proper understanding of God's grace and our unworthiness of it. What's most important is that we foster an atmosphere of gratitude for God's ultimate sacrifice and take every opportunity to focus on his Love.
When my kids look back on their life at home and their many seasons of Lent in this house I hope they remember it fondly as a time when they learned about the immense love of God, a time when they learned to think less about themselves and more about others. I hope they realize that Lent is when they learned they could bring their suffering to the foot of the cross, that the forgiving power of Christ's sacrifice makes every kind of suffering valuable. Most of all I hope Lent teaches them that we are not made for this world, that this world can be harsh, and painful and unjust but that all is made bearable by the light of the Cross. They will suffer, and hurt, and we cannot change that, we can't shield them from it so isn't it better to teach them what to do with it? If they learn now to bring their sufferings, as little as they are, to Christ then later on they will bring the big ones. They will bring the ones brought on by an unjust and fallen world and more importantly the ones caused by their own sinfulness. Then we will have given them the greatest gift of all, a gift that will eventually put them in the presence of the One who suffered all things. Then we will all rejoice together, without pain, regret or tears as we bask in the presence of his perfect Love.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Sunday, March 2, 2014
I Have Seen the Face of God and It's in my Fridge
It's been a very rough couple of weeks.
My migraines have entered a whole new stratosphere of persistent pain. It has been reminiscent of the pain I experienced after my second son was born. The migraines got worse and worse until it just wouldn't break at all, for anything. And it persisted for 15 months before we found relief. The problems are hormonal, this much we know and we are currently trying the one thing that worked back then and oddly enough we have not had the same success. I am older, my doctor tells me, and have had four more babies since then, so I must be patient.
Meanwhile, I haven't been able to get out of bed for almost three weeks. Migraines are so hard to explain and I find that most people just can't understand, and that's okay. For me it is like an ice pick lodged in my right eye with pain radiating out from there. Or like a "brain freeze" headache that persists, without relief, for days on end. Light, noise, motion, all these things make it worse and all these things are plentiful in a house full of children. Laundry piles up, messes collect in corners, and worst of all I see it wear on my family. My children are frazzled and sad and confused, my husband is stoically hanging on but I can tell he is exhausted and worried.
On Friday I had to miss something at school that was very important to both my older boys. My joy-filled-never-discouraged nine year old left the house fighting back tears and the injustice weighed so heavily on me I thought I would die. It's a constant battle between faith and hopelessness, a constant dialogue in my mind with God, wrestling with the angel if you will, trying to accept what God has allowed, and knowing that it in no way changes who He is, how good he is, or how present he is in our lives.
Then, in the most beautiful and overwhelming way he spoke. Not in a bush, or with writing on my wall, not with an angel, or a vision, but with the outpouring of the love of others. I have an amazing community, one full of generous and selfless, holy people who are ready and willing to be the hands and feet of Christ. One email went out and within hours, hundreds of people were praying, storming heaven for my healing, for the strength of my family. But beyond that people began to act. By the next day I had hundreds of dollars worth of food in my house, meals for days to be frozen, and a dozen more people promising to bring food in the coming days. It is so much more than just food. It is a resounding reminder that we are not alone, that God never intends for us to suffer alone, but that he calls us to stand together, to hope for those who cannot hope, to believe for those who are too tired to believe. Through my suffering he has provided an opportunity to reveal more about himself, to show us his amazing goodness.
My most overwhelming response to this kind of charitable goodness, after gratitude, is unworthiness. I cannot fathom what would compel people to be so kind, so generous and thoughtful and giving, for I am so undeserving. And then like a bolt of lighting, it strikes my consciousness. this is how God loves us. We do not deserve one ounce of his love and yet it is always there. This is what he requires of us, to love the way he loves, and why in Matthew 25:40 he reminds us that everything we do "for the least of these" we do for him, to him. I am overwhelmed with the love I feel from others, some I know and love dearly, some I have only met once or twice, and yet they allow themselves to be Jesus to me, to my family, to my precious children.
And although I wish I could get up and carry on, a part of me realizes that what my children are learning from this is far more valuable than anything my presence can give them. They are learning how it feels to receive a gift they do not deserve, just as we must allow ourselves to accept the love of God, a love we will never fully comprehend and never be worthy of. They have seen what selfless giving looks like, what it means to take care of one another, they are seeing the Body of Christ in action and whether they can express it or not it has changed them. They are learning that God always provides for us, that he gives us strength and hope when we are in need of it, and that he promises to bring good out of every suffering. Because this pain not only effects me, but also my family, we are learning to offer it up together, to pray for others who might benefit from what we are giving up and in turn seeing what people are willing to give up for us.
We have so much to be thankful for. I know that this is but a season, and I pray that it is not a long one. I am grateful that this is all I have to suffer as so many suffer so much worse. I am not dying, my children aren't having to say goodbye to me, they just have to be without me a bit more for right now. I am so glad that they can see that we are not alone, and I hope if they learn nothing else for now that they are at least a little in awe of people's generosity and that in time they will begin to see that this is how Jesus loves them, with such inexhaustible generosity and love, a love they don't deserve but a love that will always be available to them, a love that is worth suffering for, a love that suffered all things first. I feel we have been given a little taste of heaven, a reminder that one day we will all be together, singing "Holy, Holy, Holy" in unison with the angels, and all of this will be but a breath.
God bless all those who are the hands and feet of Jesus.
My migraines have entered a whole new stratosphere of persistent pain. It has been reminiscent of the pain I experienced after my second son was born. The migraines got worse and worse until it just wouldn't break at all, for anything. And it persisted for 15 months before we found relief. The problems are hormonal, this much we know and we are currently trying the one thing that worked back then and oddly enough we have not had the same success. I am older, my doctor tells me, and have had four more babies since then, so I must be patient.
Meanwhile, I haven't been able to get out of bed for almost three weeks. Migraines are so hard to explain and I find that most people just can't understand, and that's okay. For me it is like an ice pick lodged in my right eye with pain radiating out from there. Or like a "brain freeze" headache that persists, without relief, for days on end. Light, noise, motion, all these things make it worse and all these things are plentiful in a house full of children. Laundry piles up, messes collect in corners, and worst of all I see it wear on my family. My children are frazzled and sad and confused, my husband is stoically hanging on but I can tell he is exhausted and worried.
On Friday I had to miss something at school that was very important to both my older boys. My joy-filled-never-discouraged nine year old left the house fighting back tears and the injustice weighed so heavily on me I thought I would die. It's a constant battle between faith and hopelessness, a constant dialogue in my mind with God, wrestling with the angel if you will, trying to accept what God has allowed, and knowing that it in no way changes who He is, how good he is, or how present he is in our lives.
Then, in the most beautiful and overwhelming way he spoke. Not in a bush, or with writing on my wall, not with an angel, or a vision, but with the outpouring of the love of others. I have an amazing community, one full of generous and selfless, holy people who are ready and willing to be the hands and feet of Christ. One email went out and within hours, hundreds of people were praying, storming heaven for my healing, for the strength of my family. But beyond that people began to act. By the next day I had hundreds of dollars worth of food in my house, meals for days to be frozen, and a dozen more people promising to bring food in the coming days. It is so much more than just food. It is a resounding reminder that we are not alone, that God never intends for us to suffer alone, but that he calls us to stand together, to hope for those who cannot hope, to believe for those who are too tired to believe. Through my suffering he has provided an opportunity to reveal more about himself, to show us his amazing goodness.
My most overwhelming response to this kind of charitable goodness, after gratitude, is unworthiness. I cannot fathom what would compel people to be so kind, so generous and thoughtful and giving, for I am so undeserving. And then like a bolt of lighting, it strikes my consciousness. this is how God loves us. We do not deserve one ounce of his love and yet it is always there. This is what he requires of us, to love the way he loves, and why in Matthew 25:40 he reminds us that everything we do "for the least of these" we do for him, to him. I am overwhelmed with the love I feel from others, some I know and love dearly, some I have only met once or twice, and yet they allow themselves to be Jesus to me, to my family, to my precious children.
And although I wish I could get up and carry on, a part of me realizes that what my children are learning from this is far more valuable than anything my presence can give them. They are learning how it feels to receive a gift they do not deserve, just as we must allow ourselves to accept the love of God, a love we will never fully comprehend and never be worthy of. They have seen what selfless giving looks like, what it means to take care of one another, they are seeing the Body of Christ in action and whether they can express it or not it has changed them. They are learning that God always provides for us, that he gives us strength and hope when we are in need of it, and that he promises to bring good out of every suffering. Because this pain not only effects me, but also my family, we are learning to offer it up together, to pray for others who might benefit from what we are giving up and in turn seeing what people are willing to give up for us.
We have so much to be thankful for. I know that this is but a season, and I pray that it is not a long one. I am grateful that this is all I have to suffer as so many suffer so much worse. I am not dying, my children aren't having to say goodbye to me, they just have to be without me a bit more for right now. I am so glad that they can see that we are not alone, and I hope if they learn nothing else for now that they are at least a little in awe of people's generosity and that in time they will begin to see that this is how Jesus loves them, with such inexhaustible generosity and love, a love they don't deserve but a love that will always be available to them, a love that is worth suffering for, a love that suffered all things first. I feel we have been given a little taste of heaven, a reminder that one day we will all be together, singing "Holy, Holy, Holy" in unison with the angels, and all of this will be but a breath.
God bless all those who are the hands and feet of Jesus.
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