We all fall short

Today started off crazy.  Our good friends' two little boys spent the night Saturday night and this morning they woke our teens up super early. Everyone was a little tired and we forgot what it took to get little ones ready for church. They are 5 and 4 and of course, we weren't used to anyone getting up early enough to eat breakfast before mass.

We loaded everyone up, after running to grab car seats, and headed to church. The boys were very good, even though it was their first time in a Catholic mass.  We brought a couple books and our kids brought their phones to distract the boys when they got antsy.

I have been struggling recently with drawing my kids closer to the church. I have also been feeling a lot more like a stepmom than usual, feeling a bit left out. It's a natural progression as the kids get older and start figuring out which parent is the "fun" one. Shock of shockers, that ain't me!

I feel like sometimes, instead of leading them to Jesus, I have pushed them further away.  I get frustrated because they aren't following along, they are distracted, they don't take as much time to pray as what I think they should, and it makes me hypercritical.  I see myself getting angry and making biting sarcastic remarks to them and I know it only hurts them.  I can see it in their eyes and it makes me feel so, so sad.  

Today during mass, it struck me that I need to let them see the Church through new eyes.  As with the two boys we brought along today, I need to allow them to have the same awe and excitement that the little ones experienced.  Before, I would make sure they were following along closely in the missal.  I would give them head nods or hand signals to let them know to pay attention, but what I was missing is that we have to also EXPERIENCE the mass.  In the midst of the chaos today, I realized that my stepson didn't have his missal.  It was just after the transubstantiation and I at first thought I needed to grab one and hand it to him, but then I stepped back.  We were at arguably the most important point of the mass.  Jesus became present to us, through His flesh and blood, in the sanctity of the Eucharist.  My stepson was still kneeling down and still looking at the altar.  Did I really need to bother him to make sure he was following along line by line?  What if I stepped back and allowed him to experience the mass in his own way?  Would that be so bad?

I am struggling with lots of emotions regarding my children lately.  They are your typical teens, reluctantly doing chores, sometimes reacting with a negative attitude to certain requests or situations, and I often forget what I felt like during those years.  It's a wonder how my parents (and siblings) survived when I was a teenager in that household.  Would it be so awful to allow them to express their feelings and react how they need to?  Of course not.  The teenage years are hard enough without a harpy of a stepmom on your shoulder!  

To draw them to the church, perhaps I need to show them how loving Christ changes you as a person.  Instead of trying to have them stick to my rigid demands, I need to let them love and embrace Christ how THEY need to.  I need to pray for them LOTS and I need to be sure they know that not only do we love them, but God does, too.  I also need to remember the line from our homily on this Pentecost Sunday, that we ALL fall short.

The Holy Spirit guides us and we need to teach ourselves to listen.  I've fallen short a lot recently and it has left me feeling like I am a horrible mother.  I love these children and I want to see them do well in life, but I also need to remember that they are 14 and 13 and at a very rough time in their lives, regarding identity, self expression, and identifying the truth.  

I'm willing to let God take the lead on this one.  Next Sunday, I will do my best to allow them to immerse themselves in the mass.  I will let them look around in awe at the beauty of the physical church.  I will also let them be reminded of the beauty of the metaphysical Church as well, as we honor God by our praise and worship and remember what the center of our lives should rely on.  

I will do my very best to get rid of the critical tone in my voice that has appeared so often as of late and instead, listen to my children.  It's so hard sometimes to know when you need to push and when you need to let go.  I don't think I'll ever get that balance right.  

But, you know, an off balance life is a good life and one I'll gladly take.

Tuesday 5: It be Stormin'

Hey everyone!  Time for a Tuesday 5.  I'm not doing these regularly anymore, but that's okay, I still like to contribute every once in a while.  I get so caught up in the random mundane stuff, between a new job and a prayer retreat, it's been a busy few weeks.

Courtesy:  Catster.com

1.  It is raining cats and dogs over here today.  Don't step in a poodle!  Haha.  We had the tornado sirens going off about an hour ago and it's still raining like crazy.  Just another wild day in Kansas.  When I was a kid and it was getting ready to storm, my Dad would open up the garage door and we'd sit on lawn chairs in the garage, just watching the weather roll in.  I love the smell of a storm moving in and I love the smell of the cleansed earth after it's done.  I've become a bit more cautious as I've gotten older, but I still love to watch storms roll in.  That elemental feeling is hard to describe.

2.  Unfortunately, bad weather now means my husband is sure to get called out.  He's a signal maintainer for the railroad and whenever bad weather hits, he almost always gets called out, because either the signals are malfunctioning because of lightning strikes or the water rises over the tracks and causes stuff to go off.  He got called out about 30 minutes or so ago.  I do worry, but I know that he is good at his job and he is a smart guy, so he's going to do what he can to mitigate any danger.  Still, I sometimes hate when he gets called out.  My stepkids are with their mothers and I'm here alone with the cats.  Thank goodness for books.

3.  Speaking of books, I just finished Paige Kellerman's new book, The Beer's Folded and the Laundry's Cold.  It was full of funny anecdotes related to her new role as mother and housewife.  It's a quick read and as always, full of pop culture references.  Paige is very good at turning a phrase and I enjoyed it.  She's also a fellow Kansan, so I'm sure she's outside right now looking up at the sky, too!  You can read more of the funny by following her on Facebook and at her blog, There's More Where That Came From.  Buy it here.

4.  This week is National Infertility Awareness Week.  I have blogged about this several times, but my (in)fertility journey has been a long and arduous one.  It was hard.  It was REALLY hard.  It's not hard to remember how I felt during those endless months of being poked and prodded, told I was too fat, given endless vaj cams, and made to feel about as tall
as Tom Thumb any time the subject of pregnancy came up.   It's so hard to know how it's all going to turn out when you are in the middle of it.  Looking back on those years of struggle, the torturous pregnancy tests, shots, and feelings of hopelessness seem so overwhelming.  And yet, here I am.  I made it through to the other side.  One angel baby in heaven waiting for me and no babies in my arms.  I'm not sad, but I am wistful.  I am also very, very grateful for God's love and grace.

5.  I was part of a Christ Renews His Parish retreat at my parish two weekends ago.  I'm Catholic and this program was started in the 70s in another state.  Its aim is to help people find a deeper commitment with Christ, but also to get to know their neighbors and friends that occupy the pews.  It's a wonderful program and there were some amazing witnesses given.  I would encourage anyone, Catholic or not, to find a church offering this and check it out.  Then, bring it back to your church if you like it.  It's a fabulous way to learn more about yourself, Christ, and the other people in the parish.  I have met some very dear people and been delighted to share time, prayer, and scripture with them.

Have a great week everyone!

The Way Back

And there I was, sitting in my vehicle, sobbing.  Wretched, convulsive sobs engulfed my body.  A flood gate had opened and I sat there, vehicle humming, seatbelt undone, face in my hands, sobbing as if I had lost someone.  

My faith life got off track for a bit during and immediately after college.  I would like to think this happens to most people that go through a huge life transition like college and becoming a true adult.  Admittedly, it began because I got lazy.  I got lazy with my faith and lazy in going to mass.  It just became so much easier to not go.  The innate desire I once had to be there was gone and I rejected all of my friends' invitations to go with them.

I think part of it was also due to a new boyfriend and residual guilt I had about our relationship and the fact that he was not Catholic, nor did he claim any denomination in particular or go to church.  I loved him and hey, I was a pretty decent person, I didn't really need to go every single week, did I?

I became a lapsed Catholic and ya' know, for several years after college, I was okay with it.  I would make it to church with my family and maybe a couple other friends, but never on my own.  I couldn't sit in that pew, lonely, dejected, and feeling guilty over my sinfulness.  What if people guessed how I felt?  Could you see those sins as easily as I could, imagining them scrawled on my flesh like pen on paper?  My soul felt smudged, blighted, as if I was no longer good enough for God.

I remember a distinct conversation I had with my grandmother, regarding my faith, years after this period.  I was telling her about it and she said, "Yes dear, I think it happens to a lot of us with our faith, but God was always faithful and standing by, calling you back to Him."

He was and He did.  I felt that yearning deep in my soul on a daily basis.  I felt that want to go back to church, to meet Him face to face in the Eucharist.  I knew I couldn't without confession and boy, that was hard to admit.  During this time period, I had met my now husband and drug him along with me to mass from time to time, but I still felt I needed something more.  We got married in the church.  I kept making excuses to God and myself about the steps I needed to take to get back to Him fully.

Finally, just a few years ago, I summoned up some nerve and went to take part in the sacrament of Reconciliation.  Standing in line for the confessional, I bit my lip and tried hard not to pass out from the anxiety of it all.  After several arduous minutes, it was my turn to step in.

I shut the door, kneeled behind the screen, and immediately burst into tears.  In a shaking voice, full of anguish, I choked out my plea, "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.  It has been over 10 years since my last confession."  I'm sure some of those words dissolved under the weight of my guilt and sin and abject misery.  I gave my confession, my complete and total list of everything that encumbered my soul.  I prayed the Act of Contrition and received my penance.  When he said these words,

"God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of your son, you have reconciled the world to yourself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the church, may God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

I started sobbing again.  I was a weeping mess for a few minutes, before the priest said he had a question for me.  He asked me what made me come back.  Why did I seek him out?  I told him my story, of how my husband and I had tried for 5 years to have children and how it didn't work out, even though I prayed every day.  I told him how I changed that prayer after a while and started asking God to make me okay with not having children of my own, to ease the pining in my heart, and He answered that prayer.  How could I not come back after He granted me that?

I walked out of that confessional in a daze.  I'm sure, to the others in line, I looked a hot mess, clutching a handful of Kleenex and a puffy, tear-stained face.

And there I was, sitting in my vehicle, sobbing.  Wretched, convulsive sobs engulfed my body.  A flood gate had opened and I sat there, vehicle humming, seatbelt undone, face in my hands, sobbing as if I had lost someone.

I didn't lose someone that day.  Instead, as the sunset streamed a golden hue through the windshield, I realized that I had finally found myself.  I had finally experienced true redemption.

This Maundy Thursday, I thank Jesus for instituting the priesthood.

Matthew 18:18New International Version (NIV)

18 “Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven."