It ain't always pretty: the religious education edition

I usually have the cutest stories about how my boys grasp some theological concept, or do something sweet and inspiring. I have promised myself years ago that I would try to always give a true picture of motherhood though, and religious education is not without it's pitfalls. Or funny moments. Or both. Yesterday we hit a hattrick in 'Oh God!' moments, and well, most of them were not of the type you see in church.

The christian children's cd we often play in the car.

I guess it started shortly after noon. I had taken Joseph home from preschool where he had a very good day. Apparently all his good juices had been used up though, because he became a severely disobedient boy. He needed to go to time out. Time out has been in place as a practice for a long time. He needs to sit on a little chair, in the corner for three minutes. Afterwards, we talk about why he had to go to time out, what was wrong and what he can do better next time. It's a system that works for us. Only this time, Joseph was not having it. He tried to get out. Now I was not having that. Each time he went off that little chair, I put him back on and added 30 seconds to the clock. It took over fifteen minutes for it to sink in that he was not going to get away with it. And then he just seemed to accept it. I went to the kitchen to put some things away and all of a sudden I heard him sing from his little time out chair:


"In het heetst van de strijd
in het holst van de nacht
in het hol van de leeuw
ben ik sterk in Jezus' macht."

(in the heat of the battle,
in the deep of the night,
in the den of the lion,
I am strong in Jesus' might.)

hmmmmm... does he KNOW what he is singing???




Later that afternoon, I had to intervene after Michael had managed to get into the bathroom and flushed the toilet. I ran up, always afraid that he will have some cars jammed in that will flood our bathroom, but no such thing. Pfieuw! Lucky! I removed Michael from the bathroom and life went on.
Half an hour later Joseph needed to go potty. For some reason, recently, he wants to to on the toilet instead of the small potty. Okay by me, but all of a sudden Joseph stopped and refused to go on. He pointed at something. I sighed and expected to see a small speck of dirt or a shred of toilet paper that had been left behind. Instead, I clearly saw a small object that I must have overlooked earlier at the bottom of the toilet. I reached in. (Yes... I am a mom. I reached in) and retrieved a two inch, very heavy bronzed statue of Our Lady from the bottom of our toilet. In the category of things-you-never-thought-you-would-say "Michael, we do not flush the Virgin Mary." ranks definitely high on the list.

I am never certain if this is a guardian angel with a baby

or Our Lady in a shrine: are those wings or not?

Because we are an undeterred family and had made some resolutions after our last vacation in Hilton Head, after all of this it still seemed like the right day to start an official moment of family prayer. Now we pray often in short bursts through the day: before dinner, before naptime, before bedtime... and whenever something just comes up that allows for an opportunity to learn about faith, and kindness and living for others. But we wanted a moment as a family where we can pray all together.
We decided, for now, on a decade of the rosary. Two parents, two children. Two rosaries. One big chunky kids one for mommy and the children, a normal one for daddy. We were just a few moments into the prayer when Michael wiggled off my lap (not unexpected) then decided to get the "Holy Baby ball' out and try it as a soccer ball.

Holy Baby: we bought the ball for Joseph, not knowing who Holy Baby was.
Years later, Michael got the Holy Baby doll, because he loves the little cartoon.

Well, hey.. at least he got some of the idea. Joseph, almost four, should be able to sit still for the five minutes this would take. After he started to run around like a crazy mustang hyped up on a few gallons of starbucks, he was coralled on dada's lap. He sat quiet for a few moments, then decided to consider it a rock climbing adventure, with dada, not Peter, being the rock. We got to the end of the decade, though most of the prayers were said upon a half chuckle. Today: round two. Are we crazy, or what?

Pint sized Theology

My husband's facebook update from last sunday:

"Spent most of mass listening to Joseph's long, convoluted argument about how Jesus could be in the tabernacle and in the bread and wine* at the same time. The short version is that it apparently involves Fr. Lehocky pushing a button on the tabernacle so that Jesus can fly around the church and land in the bread and wine."


Those moments make parenting worth while. (And I needed that moment, because prior to the sweet explanation to my husband, I had had to take Joseph out of the church twice for time out due to willful bad behaviour, including hitting mommy.)
But this story made me happy. While yes, it is not theologically or physically correct, it does my heart good that the visits we make to a church for five minutes of adoration and explanation do make a difference. A few weeks ago Joseph proclaimed at the moment of consecration that this was when Jesus came out of his little heart and into the bread and wine.
I whisper to him during mass (when I get to sit through mass with him that is and do not need to remove myself with a baby to the nursery) and explain to him what is going on. "This is a letter from Paul that they are reading. He was a friend of Jesus. Do you know what he is telling us? He is telling us that we need to be very good, with our words and with our bodies. Like your arms. They are not for hitting, but for hugging." I paraphrase whatever is being read on the fly so it is understandable for him. I try to put tiny little faith lessons throughout our days. And explanations like that make it clear that those lessons churn around in Joseph's mind.

Whitework pattern finished

This little pattern was made on an openwork stitched linnen and will be the baptismal stole for a little girl named Anastasia Elise.

I finished the pattern and now only need to add the initials and the date, but I lost my thread, and I do not want to work with another shade of white, so I have some searching to do.

The road to sainthood

As I was trying to buckle Joseph in his carseat on the parking lot at Aldi's, I had a small revelation. Paul had his on the road to Damascus... mine came on a slightly more mundane place. Though to be completely honest, I do not know how mundane the road to Damascus was for him at the time.

I was muttering about the acrobatics of a sixteen month old todler, too big for the buckles in the Aldi shopping cart, pondering about something I wanted to write and wondering why my road to sainthood could not be made by reading and writing beautiful things and singing Gods praises instead of wrestling with an adorable 16 month old who pooped his diaper out during naptime for the second time this week. That would make this whole 'becoming more Holy' thing a whole lot easier. I love my son, and quite frankly I love being a mom. But I am not always certain if I am that good at it.

I am pretty good at teaching. At reading things and explaining them to other people. Even sometimes at writing. I am good at it, and I love it. So why does God chose to refine me through dirty diapers and a mama climbing boy? Because I clearly feel that tending to Joseph has already helped weeding out sins like selfishness, procrastination (you can NOT procrastinate on a dirty diaper or a hungry child) and vanity. I wish I could say that these sins have been plucked right clean out of my heart, but like with weeds, it just doesn't work that way, and I will be weeding my hearts garden until the day I die.

I realised I was confusing two things. Reading, teaching, speaking in public might be my talents, my charisms. They are gifts from God. They come from him and I need to use them in His service. But that does not necessarily mean that they are the things I will need to use most in my quest to become more like Him. They are not the muscles that need the most training.

If you look in the bible, God often calls people to do exactly what they do not seem to be very good at. Moses as a public speaker? David as a Giant slayer and a king? That does not mean they do not use their particular talents in his service, but what he asks of them to give to Him, is not just the best part of themselves. In giving over the smaller parts, the things that maybe are not their greatest talent or fondest occupation, they give themselves more completely. Maybe our talents will be what will be noticed most by others in His service, maybe they will even accomplish the most in His plan for others, but what matters most are the things that refine us unto His will. What refines me most is not just the use of the 'best parts' of me, but exactly the use of those parts of me that need a whole lot of work.

December sixth is Saint Nicholas day in many countries around the world (december fifth in the Netherlands). In the US the tradition is only observed by some people, mostly Catholics. Finding the Saint Nicholas cookie cutters too late on a website to have them delivered, I decided to shape some homemade speculaas dough by hand. With a bit of imagination, you can recognise a bearded man, with a miter, bishopsrobes, and a staff in his hand.

On the evening of December fifth everyone puts their shoes in front of the fireplace and in the morning, the good Saint leaves candy and small gifts. Joseph received a little nativity scene and a pair of boots to use in Belgium at Christmas, mommy a knitting book and daddy a calender and a few cans of imported nalu.



We were extremely lucky to have a REAL Saint Nicholas near us. The local Orthodox Church has a yearly festival for this advent Saint. With the blessing of the local bishop The Reverend Father Thomas Moore is Saint Nicholas for one day. In memory of the Saints generosity, the children get one gold Chocolate coin, and on my request, Father blessed our Joseph. Unfortunately the only picture I managed to snap had Joseph looking the other way.
If you are ever near Columbia around this time of the year, come and visit. The festival is small, but wonderful!

No anxiety....

Phil 4:6-9

Brothers and sisters:
Have no anxiety at all, but in everything,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers and sisters,
whatever is true, whatever is honorable,
whatever is just, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious,
if there is any excellence
and if there is anything worthy of praise,
think about these things.
Keep on doing what you have learned and received
and heard and seen in me.
Then the God of peace will be with you.

This was last weeks reading in Church. In these times with the news reports of the economy in a daily crisis mode, it is no wonder that people get anxious. And even when there is no national emergency on the agenda, it is easy to get overwhelmed in your daily life: whether at your job, amidst the children, the demands of ministry of family, of friends...
Sometimes it seems as if everything threathens to fall over us like a giant cresting wave.
Be not afraid runs like a red thread through the entire bible. One of my favorite quotes is the following:

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." John 14:26-28

This peace is not a denial of fear, nor a promise of a worry free existence. It doesn't mean: you don't need to do anything, God will not let anything touch you. We know of many Godly people who have known great suffering. In the bible we can immediately point to Job but just looking around you may show you several wonderful people who are living the Word and following the Holy Spirit through a very difficult path, whether it is illness, job loss, depression, family tragedies... or all of those.
Is "let not your hearts be troubled" then a command that we need to follow? Or is it more a fatherly reassurance that despite our fears, He will still be there. God does not promise us an easy path, He promises that He is there with you. In a way this is reflected in the promise we give at our wedding day. I recently saw a wedding on tv where the couple had written their own vows and the groom vowed to the bride that he would make her happy all the days of her life. It was very sincere and heartfelt, and certainly well meant, but I could not help but thinking... that is not a promise he can make. What if something horrible happens? What if they have a child that dies... what of the day when they lose another loved one... what of the day she loses a job, or they have a fight... he will not make her happy then. But what he can do is ... be there. He can promise to be there always, he can promise her that whatever she does, whatever life throws at her, he will be at her side.
Marriage here on earth is almost an analogy of the relationship between Christ and his Church. His "do not afraid" is not a false promise of an easy, happy days life. It is a promise of the simple happiness of knowing that whatever happens, in Christ, you are not forsaken. His name "Jahweh" simply means "I am".
Amidst our worries and working, it is wonderful to stop and stand still, thinking of His forever presence at our sides.

Mantilla

A very kind lady just send me a vintage mantilla. She didn't feel it suited her, and thought I might like it. I LOVE it. While I grew up, I did not know anyone who covered their head during mass. Even my Polish grandmother didn't. It came as a surprise to me when a few years ago I just felt this... whisper inside my heart that kept talking to me about covering. I resisted for a while, but the Holy Spirit seemed to keep throwing me back to the thought by leading me to stories and sites about covering during mass.
For me, wearing the headcover in the presence of the sacrament is a private devotion. I don't think it's something that is obligated anymore. I don't come from a tradition of headcovering, I've never seen my mother wear one, and she is actually rather uncomfortable with me wearing one, which is why I 'eased into' covering, with broad hairbands and caps, and buncovers etc. I don't know how it happened but about four years ago, I just... started to feel called to cover. I hate using that expression because it sounds like a 'voice from the burning bush' experience that belongs in a dramatic movie. I just kept stumbling over the idea and it somehow took root in my heart. I often compare it to a devotion to the chaplet of Divine Mercy. I think it is a beautiful devotion, and some people feel atracted to it, called to it. Others feel more atracted to the rosary, the stations of the cross.For me it has many meanings. At the forefront, I think is the fact that what is most special and most Holy is often hidden from prying eyes. A veil is a symbolic way for me to put myself apart from the hussle and bussle of daily life and devote myself to God during the time I put it on. It's a sign for my mind and body that now I am taking on a different role. With little Joseph with us during mass, that's become even more important, because it is hard to focuss on mass while you are trying to prevent little Houdini from escaping.

Lost paper: A saint Anthony Story (March 8, 2007)

Tomorrow my husband and I go to the Belgian consulate to renew my passport and 'register' me definitively as a Belg living abroad in the US. We had browsed the website before and seen all the documents we needed and aside from new photo's, everything seemed all right. I knew I had all these documents in my dedicated document folder and felt happy and secure, I just needed to take them out. Besides, it were mostly things that I carried or used frequently: my passport, my ID card, my alien registration card, etc.
Procrastinator that I am, I waited till today of course, to gather all the paperwork together. Passport, check, Alien registration card, check, ID card, check. Ok, only my model 8 (the form that confirms I have written out of the Antwerp citizen register to move to the US) Let me get that out of my folder. Hey... what is that? Rental agreement, past employment agreements, tax forms... no Model 8!! That can't be right!! I know I have my model 8! I even scanned and copied it here at home 4 months ago because the stupid cinema wouldn't let me break my subscription without it. I am ALWAYS very careful with documents just because I am such an unorganised ditz.
Where can it be? Go through folder again and start muttering a prayer to Saint Anthony to intercede on my behalf with Our Lord. Nothing. Go through letter organisor from which I have just recently purged my correspondence with said cinema. Nothing. I won't have purged that form with it, will I? Nooo... I always check things before I throw them away. Clear up desktop entirely... (by this time I am getting desperate) Nothing.
Pray harder to Saint Anthony. Go to place where I keep my folders to make sure I haven't put it there on top of the folder and then it got muddled. Nothing. Check through the computer to see if I still have a copy of it on file. Nope. Go through bag of cards from the wedding. Nothing. Go through little organisor. NOTHING. GAHHHHH... Where IS that thing. It can't be lost. Go through letter organisor again. Go through catch all basket on the table. Nothing. Go through stack of old photo's. Nothing.
Panick mode enters and start a serious mental conversation with Saint Anthony about not deserting me now. Go through needlework table. Nothing. Of course not. Why would I have put it there. I will have put it in a logical place. Check kitchen drawer with all the booklets and warranty cards. *sighs and give up, hoping that Saint Anthony will somehow come through anyhow, because I have searched EVERYTHING I can think of.*
Calls Bill and tells him there is good and bad news. Bad news, I miss a form for the registration, good news, I have everything for my passport renewal. I explain that I know for certain that I HAVE the form since I scanned it and send it to the cinema before they finally left me alone. okay... is there a copy still on the computer. Well, I checked, but I don't find one. Maybe if we scan something again, we will see what folder it places it in standard. Try and open the scan program, open the scanner to put in something to scan. Hand touches paper. Hand takes out paper. What do you know? It's my model 8!! That scanner hasn't been used since. *LOL*



For those of you who aren't Catholic, asking Saint Anthony to intercede with you for lost objects is a tradition in the church that often becomes mixed up with folklore. I even know people who 'bribe' Saint Antony with candles to help them. This last has of course nothing to do with faith and more with tradition, with a small t.