Grounders

I felt the pain when I tried to cut my daughter’s English muffin in half. As I brought my arm back to perform the cutting motion, the ache throbbed from my neck to the back of the upper arm.

Grounders.

How many grounders had I tossed during the live draft of the minors baseball division the previous day? Three to a boy, for about 90 boys…270. That could do it.

The most fun was when my own son came into the gym. I grinned wide.

“Watch, I’m gonna throw them really fast to him,” I said to his friend, who was catching the balls that the boys would throw back.

“Don’t throw it too hard!” his friend called across the gym to my son.

I threw the first one really hard, and bouncy, so he’d have to watch for the hop. Then one fast to the right, so he’d have to shuffle his feet and move to get it. The last one was fast to the left.

I threw them like that to all the boys that came out looking confidently athletic. Slow to the boys who seemed hesitant or undeveloped.

When they were all done, I drove my son home, took the temperatures of two daughters who were not feeling well, administered medicine, made sure my eldest daughter was ready to be picked up by her teammate for travel softball practice, grabbed a handful of almonds and a banana, and drove back to the high school to sign in the boys in the majors baseball division.

The inclusion of women in sports can only have a positive effect on society. Males admire athletic females; today they are not afraid to admit if one is stronger, faster, or more skilled in a sport. At the leadership level, they respect their input, organizational skills, and the “female intuition” they can bring to the table.

As a mother, getting involved in your child’s sports beyond the spectator level can be extremely rewarding for both you and your child. Your child knows that you share his passion; he learns more about you as he sees how you interact in a different sphere from home; and he may admire and respect you even more as you surprise him with what you can bring to his favorite sport.

“Because of the global dimensions this activity has assumed, those involved in sports throughout the world have a great responsibility. They are called to make sports an opportunity for meeting and dialogue, over and above every barrier of language, race or culture. Sports, in fact, can make an effective contribution to peaceful understanding between peoples and to establishing the new civilization of love.” – Pope John Paul II, Jubilee of Sports People, Homily, Oct. 10, 2000

I came across a terrific document, a special edition of “The Living Light” that includes several essays about “Sports as Religious Education”. You can download it here.

The World is too Slow for Me

Girls in a garden

Being involved in a sports organization is so exciting when I can contribute my ideas to help make it run better for my children. However, being just one wheel on the train I have to wait for all those other wheels to turn along with me! For me to do my job I have to wait for people to return my calls or emails and get me the information I need.

Patience is not a virtue I was born with. Like I teach my girls in Little Flowers, the virtues must be perfected by practicing them. If you don’t feel cheerful, start with an outward smile, and you are on your way to perfecting the virtue of Cheerfulness. So every day I pray for the patience I need for dealing with all the challenges of motherhood. Even when I feel impatient, I try to act patient; at the very least I give the outward appearance of calm, which is contagious to those around me.

As the week progressed, I was feeling rather dubious about presenting the virtue of Piety to my Little Flowers group. With all my pent-up feelings of impatience, I felt like I was the last person to be representing this virtue.

On Friday morning I brought a softball flyer down to Staples to be copied. It sounds like a simple task but I was surprised at all the complications: (1) getting approval from the school district to distribute it in the classrooms; (2) finding out how to pay for the copies through the treasury; (3) about 20 minute questions from the photocopying manager before she could get me a quote on the cost. I brought the flyer down and thought I was done. Then she asked me if I want plain white or the league color (green)?

I had to agree that my flyer looked lovely in green. But I didn’t know what the rules were for handing out flyers in the school; would a colored background be acceptable? My cell phone had lost its charge. So I told her to hold the order until I could get confirmation from my supervisor. I went home and emailed him the question.

An hour went by and I became increasingly impatient. Staples had enough collators that morning to get the job done before a big snowstorm came in; and I was planning on taking my kids ice skating when they got home from their half day at school. “He’s probably busy at work and doesn’t want to be pestered with this stupid question about green or white”, I thought. So I put in a call to the school district and found out that background color is fine.

I emailed him again saying, “School district says color is fine. I’m going with green unless you tell me otherwise”, waited five minutes, and called the lady to say we had decided on green. “That’s great,” she said, and I hung up.

Then I got the reply to my first email, “White”.

So I called her again. “I’m really sorry, but I just got the reply from my supervisor. We will have to go with white.”

“Don’t worry about it – I didn’t start yet,” she said.

Then I got a reply to my second email, “Green is great.”

We finally confirmed the decision through a telephone conversation. “Green would be nice, but if you don’t want to call her again I understand,” he said.

But I really liked the idea of the green flyer, so I called the lady one more time. “I promise you I’m not crazy,” I pleaded, “But I just got permission from the district that I can use green. I promise you I won’t change my mind again.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” she replied, but with a good-natured tone.

With an hour to go before the kids got home, I sat down to go over my lesson plans for Little Flowers. I opened up the book and was pleasantly surprised…

I started my lesson by asking all the girls what they thought piety was, or how a pious person should act. The picture they all seemed to have was of a really serious, straight-faced person who prays and talks about religion all the time. Then I told them that that was what I thought too, and that I had thought I was the last person who should be presenting this lesson. I shared with them the green-or-white story. Then I told them what piety really is.

From “The Catholic Girl’s Guide”, edited by Fr. Francis X. Lasance:

“The genuine flower of piety is no mere sentimentalism and does not consist in a multitude of pious practices. If you would be truly pious, do everything you have to do as a service done to God. We see true piety to be an interior frame of mind or disposition, a love which comes from within and gives life to everything which is without. Or it is the active love of God which makes men eschew evil, do good, and endure suffering. An unmistakable mark of true piety is that it makes its possessor cheerful and merry. How indeed could it be otherwise? Who has more reason to be cheerful than a truly pious young girl? Who can look up to heaven with more confidence?”

I said that because I was acting out of devotion to my children, which springs from the love of God, my actions of the week could be seen as actions of piety. Whatever they are called to do on a given day, if they do it out of the sincerity of their hearts and through love of God and neighbor, they are practicing the virtue of piety.

I got home to an email from Staples. She had gotten the order done in half the time she had estimated – either she was nervous about the snowstorm or she didn’t want to give me a chance to change my mind again!

High Demand

As the kids continue to grow older and more independent, I have had more time to spend on other projects. While I avoided volunteer work during the newborn stage, I started last year to start saying “yes” to more things, and to sometimes even throw my hat in the ring just because I knew my kind of talent was needed. I always make sure I am putting my time into an interest that will also benefit my children – teaching their religion class, coaching their sport, or putting my organizational skills to work in their sports organization.

For the first time, I allowed my children to take part in winter sports this year, and I am still wondering if that was a good idea. I always liked to take a little time off from all that running around; to enjoy Advent, and my daughter’s birthday, which falls around Christmas. I usually read a nice long book in January, and then do some serious writing. This year I have not had the leisure to either read or write at any great length.

Although we have quite a busy schedule, when we are all together in the house sometimes it feels like I am no longer needed by them in a direct manner. Then suddenly one of them comes to me for help and I am very pleased. The only problem is that this always seems to happen to all the kids at the very same time.

Today my eldest daughter, who practically taught herself while we were homeschooling and catches on to math skills quite easily, came to me for help with her algebraic inequalities. It took about an hour to explain things to her. During this hour, my three-year old daughter continually came asking for me to play a game for her; my eight-year-old son kept asking for advice on a picture he was working on; and my eleven-year-old started crying for no apparent reason.

Done with the primary task at hand, I went on to my second daughter, asking yes or no questions to try to get at the cause of her crying. I finally got at it – she had come home with a C on a test about primes and composites and was afraid to tell me. Note that this is the same teacher who had not properly explained things to my older daughter. So I explained to her that if she didn’t get the math concept it wasn’t her fault, and we worked on understanding the test together.

My son didn’t really need my help; he was just responding to the high needs of everyone else around him and demanding his own piece of me. My three-year-old gets more than her fair share of my attention and needs to learn to wait her turn.

During this time, somebody ate all of my husband’s oatmeal cookies and all of the apples that were supposed to go with the lunches for tomorrow. My husband arrived home, ate the dinner plate I had prepared for him, and asked how I could allow that to happen!

“I don’t know. It’s my writing night,” I replied, and took my laptop upstairs to write this little piece.

Psalms
Chapter 131
1
A song of ascents. Of David. LORD, my heart is not proud; nor are my eyes haughty. I do not busy myself with great matters, with things too sublime for me.
2
Rather, I have stilled my soul, hushed it like a weaned child. Like a weaned child on its mother's lap, so is my soul within me.
3
Israel, hope in the LORD, now and forever.

Painting above: “Lotte (Werther’s Leiden)” by Wilhelm Von Kaulbach

Community outreach activities for families during Advent

My sister Joanna Cummings, a youth and children's minister, has guest posted a column for me on community outreach activities that would be great for families to participate in during Advent.

Just Call Me Jonah

Last year I wrote several posts putting down volunteerism in general. After being very involved for several years volunteering in different arenas, I decided to take a firm stand and do absolutely no volunteering while I had a newborn at home. I really felt comfortable and free, and it became easier and easier for me to say no.

Somewhere along the line I started to get my energy back, and to feel I could take on more challenges. I guess it was around the time we started actually sleeping through the whole night. My youngest was about 18 months old then. It took about 6 months to catch up on all the sleep I had missed, and by the time she was 2 I felt ready to take on the whole world again.

I signed up to teach my daughter’s 8th grade Catechism class, and have been reading The Catechism of the Catholic Church over the summer, in addition to the regular textbook. I picked the earliest Saturday morning slot because I didn’t want it to interfere with softball or cross country after school, or softball games later on Saturdays. I was lounging in the pool or on the beach for half the summer, and the whole task of getting ready for this seemed pretty daunting to me, when I got a request to do something else in addition to this.

Back when we were homeschooling, I helped to teach a Little Flowers group for two years. Little Flowers is meant to be a cooperative effort, with all the mothers taking turns teaching about the saints that little girls should emulate, and the coordinating virtues they should acquire. It is a well-organized program with lots of room for games and friendship time.

My friend was very interested in this program and, know I was experienced with it, asked me if I would consider heading up a group at the church. I told her I didn’t know if I could take on something else right now. I kept hedging all summer, but never really said no. While in Tennessee I decided I would come back and say I just couldn’t do it right now.

The day after I came back, my friend called and asked if I had proposed the program to the church yet. “Umm, no, I thought we were going to talk about it first,” I said, and before I knew it I was in the office of the new Director of Religious Education selling a program that I loved, all the time actually hoping he would say no. “God’s will be done,” I thought, “If He really wants me to do this, it will be approved.”

I was so mad at myself for being so persuasive. Within a day the program was approved by the DRE and pastor, with a room reserved for me through March. (That I made perfectly clear: I am busy with baseball after March.)

I was telling all this to a friend over lunch yesterday and she said to me, “What, are you waiting for a whale to swallow you up? You sound like Jonah!”

Then she gave me several ideas on how to make this a cooperative effort, which is exactly what Little Flowers is meant to be. “You don’t have to be a one-woman show,” she said. I admitted I really don’t enjoy doing crafty things with 12 little girls who need help with gluing or threading needles. The actual teaching and organizational stuff is what I love.

I don’t want to be like Jonah, sitting under a withering gourd in the desert sun, cursing God for the task he was sent to do. I think the lesson of Jonah is more about attitude than anything else. He obeyed God but didn’t enjoy it. We are called to “be cheerful in all that you do”.

By the way, I don’t know why everyone got it into their heads that Jonah was swallowed by a whale. (They also think Adam and Eve ate an apple, when the Bible just says it was a piece of fruit; perhaps it was a pomegranate.) The Bible says he was swallowed by a “big fish”. Whales are mammals, not fish; perhaps it was a great shark.

Jonah
Chapter 2 (NAB)
1
But the LORD sent a large fish, that swallowed Jonah; and he remained in the belly of the fish three days and three nights.
2
From the belly of the fish Jonah said this prayer to the LORD, his God:
3
Out of my distress I called to the LORD, and he answered me; From the midst of the nether world I cried for help, and you heard my voice.
4
For you cast me into the deep, into the heart of the sea, and the flood enveloped me; All your breakers and your billows passed over me.
5
Then I said, "I am banished from your sight! yet would I again look upon your holy temple."
6
The waters swirled about me, threatening my life; the abyss enveloped me; seaweed clung about my head.
7
Down I went to the roots of the mountains; the bars of the nether world were closing behind me forever, But you brought my life up from the pit, O LORD, my God.
8
When my soul fainted within me, I remembered the LORD; My prayer reached you in your holy temple.
9
Those who worship vain idols forsake their source of mercy.
10
But I, with resounding praise, will sacrifice to you; What I have vowed I will pay: deliverance is from the LORD.
11
Then the LORD commanded the fish to spew Jonah upon the shore.

Painting by Buarnarotti Michelangelo. "Jonah", 1511.

Back onto the Volunteer Path

If you’ve been following my blog you might think I am down on volunteerism. I think if you have the calling, and you have enough time and energy AFTER fulfilling your duties to your family, it is a natural fulfillment of the “works” part of our faith. What I am down on is exhausting oneself in too many avenues so that there is not enough left for the family at home, as well as one’s own spiritual development.

Sometimes it is necessary to pull back in some of these areas. Maybe a child needs some extra attention, or you or a family member are ill. In the past, I have had the tendency to accept too many commitments, and I had to go cold turkey when my fourth child was born. It’s kind of like my obsession with books. I have way too many, and know I am incapable of walking into a book store without buying more – so I try to stay away from book sales of any kind, unless I have a real need for a specific book. For three years I have avoided any kind of sign-up sheet, knowing just one more thing could put me over the edge. (Read about the bake sale that almost broke this camel’s back.)

After the birth of each child, it takes me a bit longer to get used to all the extra responsibilities, before I feel like I’ve gotten into the swing of things and can take on more. Almost three years later, I am finally ready to take on the commitment of catechist once again. I really feel great about this, mostly because I get to be my own child’s teacher in preparation for her Confirmation.

When I taught the sixth grade religious education class, I found that I learned as much from the experience as my students did. I loved to hear what questions they had, even if I didn’t know the answer yet. I would write them down and eagerly research a response. In the preparation of my classes I would dig deep into scripture, the Church documents, and the lives of the saints, and found myself developing spiritually as well as in my knowledge of the Church.

The religious education director at my parish sees me quite often in a variety of capacities, especially now that I have a son ready to make his First Communion. She answered the bell today, asking how she could help me. Usually I have some kind of request for the pro-life group or a question about the Communion. I was here to help her, I replied. Relief washed over her face. I had thought I might have trouble with my request to teach my daughter’s eighth grade class, but she happily gave it to me.

It was with great excitement that I walked out of the religious education office with my hefty teacher’s manual, food for thought over the summer. I’m ready to order myself an official copy of The Catechism of the Catholic Church and give myself a good education. And I will be tuning in to EWTN as often as possible to see what those great teachers have to offer my soul.

Painting above: The Calling of St. Peter, Hans Suss von Kulmbach, 1514-16

How I Lost My Balance; and How I Found it Again

Dog balancing parakeets on a stick

Imagine you are a juggler in a circus act. You start out with one ball, then work your way to two, then three. You get so efficient that you are able to juggle twelve at once! Then someone ties one arm behind your back and you are expected to keep doing it. You wind up dropping half and struggle to keep up the other six. Then someone ties your other arm behind your back. In dismay, you look to the ground. How could they possibly expect the impossible? Then you realize you are just a side show that no one is really paying attention to, and you walk away unnoticed, kicking the balls to the side, and ask someone to help you untie your hands. Once your hands are free, you fail to resume the juggling. You go back and pick up your favorite ball and carry it home.

This is what I see when I think of my younger mommy self, circa five years ago. I was homeschooling three children, teaching religion at our church, teaching a Little Flowers group, leading a homeschooling field trip group of one hundred families, running an ebay store, notarizing and bookkeeping for my husband’s business, and bending over backwards to please my friends. I was NOT writing, or even reading. Every pocket of time was filled with activity. People told me I was doing too much, but I didn’t listen. I felt like if I COULD do it, I SHOULD do it.

Most days I was able to manage well, and was proud of all I was able to accomplish. I kept lists to show my husband all I had done around the house each day. I think I still felt like I had to prove I was doing my share, since we had mutually decided I should stay home with the children. This was all in my own head, having been employed for ten years before going cold turkey.

His response was, “What do you want, a medal?” He was not being unappreciative. He was trying to say I didn’t need to do all I was doing to impress him. All I had to DO was BE - Mommy and Wife and Me.

On my birthday, I always sit down and write resolutions, approximately ten, of what I want to accomplish in the next year. I remember when I turned thirty I wrote that I wanted to BE instead of DO. I changed my attitude toward activity in my life, but not my behavior. Soon thereafter I oversaw the installation of a dormer. I decreased the demands on my schedule so I could be home for the workers. When it was done, I painted the entire thing, inside and out.

The day I finished the painting, we conceived our fourth child, and everything changed. That January (she was born in July) I was so fatigued that I felt like I wasn’t fulfilling any of my roles properly. I was a terrible friend – or so I thought - I was too tired to even talk on the phone. I was a terrible teacher to my kids – I had a terrible cough, which was bringing on early contractions, and spent many days dictating from the couch. I wasn’t able to go on field trips because long drives would bring on contractions, and the group wound up folding. I was a terrible housekeeper – needless to say the cleaning was going by the wayside.

But I knew I was being the best mommy I could be to my children. I knew that by staying on the couch I was ensuring that I would not wind up in the hospital for an extended stay or go into early labor. I enrolled my children to help in whatever chores they could around the house.

I was able to put together my daughter’s First Communion, putting every last drop of energy into the preparations, and putting aside some money to hire someone to clean my house. I was able to finish off the year of religious education, giving notice that I would not be returning the next year. I was able to get the kids to all their ball games that spring, with their help carrying all their own stuff as well as my comfy chair across the fields so I could sit through them. I was able to finish off the school year, although it took me until August to complete our lesson plans; and they were enrolled into Catholic school.

The Little Flowers group folded because most of the families had to move away, due to the economic and social climate being hostile to larger families on Long Island. The homeschoolers founded another group to provide their field trip needs. The director of religious education found another teacher to fill my role for the next year. (As my Dad, a former businessman, says, “No one is irreplaceable, although they’d like to think they are.”) My kids were assigned great teachers at their new school. My true friends forgave me for having ignored them for a few months. My house got clean again.

I had my precious newborn baby, whom I had longed for, and I had the time to hold her, and nurse her, and stare at her for hours on end. She was colicky and had to be held and nursed nonstop. I really didn’t know how I would have been able to handle it if I still had all those other commitments. She got through that after the second month, and I felt like I could breathe again. When I cleaned, I could take the time to do the chore correctly, and actually relish it. When I cooked, I could put love and creativity into it.

I also found my new calling, in pro-life ministry. I kept bumping into people who were active in pro-life ministry, and making friends with them, not even knowing that is what they were involved in. It turned out they all knew each other, in different degrees. Little by little I kept doing more, as time allowed, and brought my daughters on board as well. I know I would not have found the time to fit this into my old life.

And I am writing now, more than ever! The time may come, when my youngest is in school, that I am able to take on more commitments. No more senseless juggling for me. Not that I regret a single activity that we partook in during those years – they were all valuable in their own ways. But I love my new life, and the new me, who is happy to actually be bored sometimes, because it is so very peaceful.

If you enjoyed this post, you might enjoy a series my friend Loren Christie is doing called Balance Revisited, in which she explores the ways to find balance in her busy and productive life while raising three young children.

The Bake Sale that Almost Broke the Camel’s Back

I love to bake. I love to bake from scratch. Most of all, I love it when I bake something from scratch and it comes out perfectly.

I love to know that I lovingly prepared something delicious and special for my family, from the best ingredients I could afford. I love that they appreciate the time it took, and that it tastes better just because I made it.

I love to learn new recipes from my beloved cookbooks, and to teach the skills to my children so they can do the same for their own families.

There used to be a Holly Hobby plaque hanging in the kitchen of my childhood home. It said the “secret ingredient” was love. Scientific studies have actually shown that, given all the same ingredients, positive emotion put into baking actually has a healthy effect on the receiver!

I love to bring cakes for family birthday parties. I am known among my in-laws as the cake baker, and they love both my Hershey’s Cocoa Chocolate Cake and my white angel cake. I make the same ones for every occasion, with a variation on the decorative icing, and they never tire of them.

I enjoy sending my children in to school with cupcakes on their birthdays. I usually make these from a mix, for a number of reasons. First of all, I have to make several batches of cupcakes, and it just is not feasible time-wise for me to do these all from scratch. I will save that time for making the cake we will eat together as a family. Second of all, most children really cannot differentiate between a baked-from-scratch cake and one purchased from a store. So, while I know they are receiving superior ingredients, they do not, and so part of the pleasure is lost.

Several times a year, I am called upon to bake something for a bake sale. If I have the time, I really do not mind doing this. However, very often it happens to be at the very worst time for me. I just know that it will be something I will regret having committed to. They also expect you to write down what you will be making, and I really do not bake that way. I do not have the time to select a recipe and go shopping for the specific ingredients required. I keep a well-stocked pantry and bake according to what ingredients I have available. What if I say I will make chocolate-chip cookies and someone eats the chocolate chips the night before? And if I happen to have enough frozen bananas I might feel like making a huge batch of banana bread – if I do not have enough, I am not going to go buy over-ripe bananas for the occasion. So I really dislike having to commit to making a specific item.

There was one time when I signed up and had such a busy day that I was still whipping it up at midnight. Then, after I had carefully wrapped up the box of goods, my child forgot to bring it to school! I received a telephone call from the bake sale coordinator, asking if I could bring it in. I really did not have the time to drive to the school that day, and had to apologize. From that day on, I decided never to sign up for a bake sale. If I had the time, I would make something and they would be pleasantly surprised. If not, no harm done.

A few weeks ago, I was asked to bake for the track bake sale. It happened to be on a Sunday, right after we had planned on giving out baby bottles after church for the Pro-Life cause. We were going to have to rush home, do a quick change, and rush back out to the track meet. I just knew it was not a reasonable thing to expect of myself to (1) bake something and (2) remember to bring it.

After I explained all this, the lady told me that if I did not have time to bake I could just go to the store and pick up some cans of soda. I said I would keep that in mind, but what I was thinking was: “Is she crazy? I just told her how busy I am. Does she think I have time to make another trip to the store with four kids in tow? It would take me less time to bake something! And what makes her think I can afford to buy even more food when I have six mouths to feed?” I wound up avoiding her and the whole bake sale table on the selected day.

After track practice on Saturday, I went home, made dinner, put the baby to bed, and went food shopping. After all this, I had a varicose vein that was bothering me. This tends to happen when I am under a great deal of stress and do not take extra vitamin E (which helps keep the circulatory system healthy). I put my legs up and asked my husband to put the food away. “Thank God I said no to that bake sale!” I exclaimed. It was really the bake sale that would have broken this camel’s back.

This was really what set into motion my series – which I shall continue – on hearing God’s call and staying true to your specific call. There are so many good causes, and only so much of you to go around. Your number one priority is your own family, and you are doing them a disservice if you exhaust yourself doing too much. Remember the basics of decision-making. Every “yes” is a “no” to something else.

I was called again to bake something for a meeting, this time by a lady who was very understanding as to how busy I was. I also explained that I would be hard-pressed to even get to the meeting on time, given my husband’s work schedule, so the promised goods would not even be there for the pre-meeting social time.

After I said no to that, I hung up and my husband walked in the door.

“I was just asked to bake something for the meeting tomorrow night,” I said.

“You don’t even bake for us any more,” my husband complained.

(This, by the way, was not true. I supervised the baking of chocolate-chip and blueberry muffins two nights previous, but they disappeared in one night. I also promised to bring a cake to the next family birthday party, coming up soon. It is true that I have not baked much lately, and probably will not pick up the pace until winter.)

“That is precisely why I said no,” I said, matter-of-factly, making a mental note to make something yummy just-for-us as soon as possible.

In the picture above are the cakes I made for the double celebration party we had in August. On the left is a white angel cake with white frosting, topped by our original wedding cake topper, to celebrate our fifteenth wedding anniversary. On the right is a Hershey’s Cocoa Chocolate Cake (see recipe on the container of Hershey’s Cocoa, in the baking aisle), to celebrate our baby’s second birthday. In the middle is a flower centerpiece that I was given to take home from our friends’ wedding, which we had all attended the day before the party. In the background is a line of white chocolate heart-shaped lollipops, which I gave out as favors.

Discerning Your True Calling

“Therefore, brothers, be all the more eager to make your call and election firm, for, in doing so, you will never stumble.”
2 Peter 1:11

“No way, Mom,” said my two-year-old, in a frank tone.
“Yes way,” I replied.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Nno.”
“Yyes.”
“Nnno.”
“Yyyes.”
“Nnnnnnnnnno!”
“Yyyyyyyyyes!”
She was not being defiant, and I was not encouraging argumentative. We were having a little exercise in independent thinking.

I can clearly remember myself playing a similar game with my own mother. Two of my favorite phrases were “no way”, and “yes way”. The fact that I am able to say both “yes” and “no” are partly attributed to her good humor and her wisdom in the fostering my voicing of both important decisive words.

Erik Erikson’s eight stages of psycho-social development always rang true with me. The second psychosocial crisis involves learning Autonomy vs. Shame, between about 18 months or 2 years and 3½ to 4 years of age. Resolving this stage results in a proper feeling of pride and self control, rather than a feeling of guilt or shame. It occurs to me now that many women must not have resolved this stage properly, and thus in adulthood are constantly feeling pulled in too many directions. They feel “spent” while also feeling that they are “not doing enough”.

During my homeschooling years I was rather involved in several volunteer activities. After the conception of my fourth child, I had to refocus all of my energies on the health of myself and my newborn child, while continuing the end of that current year of homeschooling. I looked back on the past in awe at the time and energy I had had to devote outside of the home. How ever had I done it? As I dropped out of the world of volunteerism, and made myself less available to help others in need, some were understanding, and some were not. I had changed – what a shocker!

“God has a purpose for all of us, and from time to time that purpose must change,” my father assured me.

I knew what my priorities were, and was not ashamed to say NO. For that time-being, any activity outside of the service of those inside my four walls received that same answer: NO.

As the children entered school, and the sign-up sheets were passed around, I quickly passed them on to the next person, with no twinges of guilt. God knew, my family knew, and I knew what services I had given in the past years. I needed a few months to feel out this new life and see what, if anything, I could give.

I looked on the oft-volunteers in a new light, now that I was not one of them. There were some who seemed to step up to the plate more than others, chairing multiple committees. They were energetic, but tired at the same time. I wondered if they had anything left to give to their families at the end of the day.

Now that my toddler has become more independent and we have gotten into the swing of family life with four children, I have found I do have more pockets of free time throughout the day. I use those to read, write, or pray. Lately I also discovered opportunities to be a shoulder and prayer warrior for those in great need, just by being in the right place at the right time with an open ear.

We are in the midst of the track and cross-country season, with lots of chauffering to meets – and more calls to volunteer. I am asked to contribute to bake sales, fundraisers, and snack time at school. I revisit my list of priorities yet again and ask the questions so many women must ask themselves repeatedly:

Am I allowed to have some free time during the day?

What activities do I give my time to without sapping the energies I need to give to my family?

What about time I need for prayer and reflection?

Am I being called by God to minister in this area?

The ability to discern is addressed in great depth by St. Paul in I Corinthians. “The spiritual person, however, can judge everything but is not subject to judgment by anyone.” (I Cor. 2:16) I encourage you to read the first four chapters of this book while prayerfully reflecting on what God is calling you to do at present.

While pondering this topic, I read from a book of rhymes before putting my toddler in for her nap. I was puzzled by this one’s shockingly negative ending and had to re-read it. I thought of how some can lead enthusiastic youngsters on a foolish mission, causing them to fritter away their gifts and energies and perhaps lose sight of their true callings. In this story, the poor victims are literally eaten alive. I will end off with this classic, imploring my readers to heed your true calling.

The Walrus and The Carpenter
Lewis Carroll(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)




The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"
"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.



The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."
"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."
"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"
"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"
"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

Humility

“My son, conduct your affairs with humility,
And you will be loved more than a giver of gifts.
Humble yourself the more, the greater you are,
And you will find favor with God.
For great is the power of God;
By the humble he is glorified.”
Sirach 3:17-19

Today’s readings touched me on several levels. (The Gospel spoke of giving up the head-of-the-table seat to someone more important.)

I. The Humility of Motherhood

On this Earth, there is no job more humbling and more elevating than that of Mother. I think of the ten days last April when my older three children took turns with a four-day stomach virus. I was up day and night cleaning up vomit, consoling them, and giving the baby extra breastmilk to boost her immunity. On the opposite side of the spectrum, there was the day my firstborn read me her first book – and I knew I had taught it to her. Or, more recently, the day she confided in me her hopes and fears for the future. Tonight we finished reading aloud a wonderful book to all the children, and I knew I had planted fascinating seeds for thought. (As I write, I just got handed a tooth. Looks like I'll be playing the tooth fairy tonight.)

We honour Mary not for one specific thing she did, but for who she is – the Mother of the Son of God. She humbled herself to receive the gift of motherhood, and for that she is elevated. Everyday we can look to Mary as the ultimate model for who we should be as mothers. We can remember that it is not the great earthly things we do that matter, but that we just be spiritually present to our children.

II. The Humility of Writing

Writers are of an interesting breed, full of subtle ironies. Most of us tend toward introspection. Yet we seek publication, to set our mark on the world. The Christian writer may earnestly work toward getting an important message out to the world. Yet he must ultimately self-promote in order to further that end.

In the movie, “The Singing Nun”, a sister with a guitar, the only vestige left of her family, becomes famous for her beautiful hymns. In the end, realizing that vanity has caught hold of her and kept her from her true ministry, she gives up her guitar completely.

For us, the battle with humility will likely be a lifelong one. We are called upon to use our gifts to help others, yet must be sure the glory goes to our Maker, not ourselves.

III. The Humility of Volunteerism

I have taken a hiatus from volunteering in both church and school, while caring for an infant. I remember those who said, “Volunteering is a thankless job,” and seemed to be put-out by all their efforts. We are called to “do all that we do with a cheerful countenance”. While recognizing that our job is important, we must not feel self-important.

Heavenly Father,
Help me to give of my gifts
Cheerfully,
Humbly,
And in a manner that will always glorify you.
Amen.

Pictured above: “Vanity”, by John George Brown