The Catholic Sun :: Phoenix Diocesan Newspaper

First, it means a blessed ignorance dominates our work outside since our children do not realize how much a landscape maintenance company could earn by doing the same work they will do for a toy from the Dollar Store.

It also means that spring is here and even pulling weeds is a welcome activity in the 80 degrees that will herald triple digits. And it also means one more teachable moment in our quest to nurture the little souls of our children.

I have told our two oldest workers that weeds are funny things. They start out very little, and they can blend in so as to go unnoticed for most of the day. There is a certain time of the day, however, when the light hits them in such a way that each one is revealed. In many ways, I tell them, weeds resemble our sin. The danger in letting little sins go on too long is that they can become so big that it becomes difficult to get rid of them with simple maintenance. And just as weed begets weed, so does sin beget sin.

I want our children to understand that a serious sin is not committed out of nowhere, but is usually the result of smaller sins unconfessed. My hope is that we are sowing good seed in this outdoor lesson. My prayer is that they will develop a great desire for the sacrament of reconciliation out of a thirst for grace.

God’s grace from reconciliation

Unfortunately for many Catholics, I think, reconciliation has become a somewhat bothersome task of their faith, an obligation that is only expected of them once a year. So as a result, many have convinced themselves that only serious sins need confessing. But the tragic result of not availing oneself of the sacrament regularly is not being considered a “bad Catholic.” Rather it is an unnecessary sacrifice of the grace available through it.

I am not certain why some people stop going to confession. I suppose for a few it is scheduling issues. Perhaps for others, it is a Protestant-adopted approach to sin which says that we can just as easily confess our sins directly to God without “going through” a priest. But I have to wonder if it isn’t also simply a result of living in the same shadowy light as many others who are missing the grace. That is, if everyone you know has an excuse for not going to confession, one that hinges on its minimal yearly requirement, then it’s harder to make out the weeds in your own yard.

Unless, of course, you are a parent.

In the book of Tobit, Tobiah is often referred to as the “light” of his parents’ eyes, and I can guess why. I live in the direct rays of my own children, and the result is a clear view of the weeds. I know when I need to go to confession the way some people realize they need an adjustment from their chiropractor. I get out of whack, often becoming more critical, less patient and sometimes saying things that sound as if they came out of another person’s mouth. I have told my children this, and to my dismay, they have reacted — more than once in public — to my impatience with, “Mom, I think you need to go to confession.”

And so I go, and the Lord removes my sin, root and all. And the grace I receive spills over into my children and my patience begets their patience, making us all better at the smaller things involved with the work of family life. Even yard maintenance.

MARCH 20, 2008

Sharing life’s beauty through setting loving examples

I still have not explained abortion to our oldest who is 6. Knowing that she spent 20 minutes in tears over the corpse of a baby bird who had fallen from its nest in our yard, I just can’t bring myself to elucidate a far greater atrocity among humans.

For now, my husband and I have simply chosen to explain the issue from the positive perspective: life is beautiful and a gift from God. When we see a pregnant woman, we pray for her baby to be born healthy. And when we go to the store, I ask my kids to behave themselves so that people will think having children is a great thing. We want to encourage large families, I say, not discourage them. I tell my children that, next to the cross, they are the best example of God’s love for us, because it is in faces like theirs that others are made sure of His desire for the world to continue.

So during the 40 Days for Life campaign, an effort that involves praying outside of abortion clinics across the country in order to close their doors and convert the hearts of those who walk through them, I joined other mothers to pray. But I did so with only my youngest while my other children were busy with the things that busy children their age.

There are women who, I think, are more courageous than I am. They pull up to Planned Parenthood’s opposing sidewalk with strollers and slings and their 6-year-olds. And some of those 6-year-olds have been educated as to the atrocity being endorsed and permitted behind doors that seem harmless, doors that look like the ones at their school or their pediatrician’s office. While my children think all doors are the same, those courageous moms’ 6-year-olds know the difference, and they want to nail shut the ones that would destroy their playmates.

Universal culture of life

I am not sure that there is a right or a wrong on this particular parenting move. For now, I am hedging my bets on a world in which I shall never have to explain those doors to my children except in a historical context, not unlike the Holocaust. And I believe it’s coming soon, for it can’t be much longer that this inner-peace-seeking society with a yoga practice on every corner, can avoid Mother Teresa’s words, “The greatest destroyer of peace is abortion.”

So for 40 days outside those clinics, we are praying for an end to society’s greatest peace-stealer, and there is great evidence that this prayer is working. But in the days that follow, we must pray for something else too, because the tide that is presently turning will only right itself if we have done more than put an end to a procedure finally exposed to the world as grotesque.

This world on which I am hedging bets must be one in which I can show my children that in the place of surgical abortion did not fall the surrogate morning-after pill, a less grotesque procedure producing the same end. Nor did it create an increase in the use of “better contraception” so as to make the grotesque procedure unnecessary.

Rather, I want to them to see that in the place of abortion arose a universal culture of life, where children are seen as blessings whether they behave in the grocery store or not; where a compulsory one-child policy is unthinkable; where every person on a United Nations committee understands that women are powerful and respected beings, not breed cows; where couples love each other totally, honoring the great gift of fertility as an essential component to God’s creative plan; where chastity is the only language we use to speak of love; and where adoption is the encouraged and celebrated option for both the woman who cannot care for her child and the married couple who longs to open their home to children but is unable to have their own.

This world is not only possible, it’s imperative. And it makes for only slightly less work for us moms who want the harder conversations with their children to be about makeshift funerals for baby birds that fall from the sky.

FEBRUARY 21, 2008

Ready for the Resurrection?

Use Lent as a time to tidy up the spirit

For a whole 12 days now I have gone without e-mail, without search engines, and without updates on world affairs via the Internet. It’s been an ongoing affliction to give up the computer for Lent, but I am offering it up for the sanctification of my children, for an increase in vocations to the priesthood, and for the salvation of Britney Spears so the whole world can be at peace about that poor girl.

One of the best gifts my husband ever gave me was a four-hour session with a professional organizer. Weeks into a room conversion, I was at a standstill. Surrounded by boxes of keepsakes, crafts, to-do’s, books I intended to read before I am 90, and a mass of tchotchkes, I lost the ability to prioritize. It all seemed so very important. After just a short time with a professional, I was made aware of my great impediment to organization: counting too many things as important.

What I gained from the help of this woman was both a decluttered space and the tools to keep it that way. After whittling out much of what was not essential, I was able to gain perspective and ultimately a bit of peace. It was a process I have since applied to other areas of my life, and one of the reasons I appreciate the Church’s gift of Lent.

As sinners, what we are asking God for during these 40 days is a change of heart. Like the Psalmist David, we desire a “clean heart” and a “steadfast, willing spirit.” (Ps. 51) In other words, a decluttered space and the tools to keep it that way.

Declutterring our hearts and minds during Lent has one supreme effect: it makes room for the message of the Resurrection. In a culture that places great emphasis and expense on hyping the winners of reality TV talent shows, presidential primary election results, and the release of the next best, more streamlined personal electronic device, even a message as essential as God’s saving love can get lost.

Make way for the Resurrection

Whether it is through ashes, fasting or some small personal sacrifice for 40 days, Lent pulls us out of the “ordinary time” into a period of purification, so that the message of the Resurrection does not fall on cluttered hearts. And if the great fruit of fasting is clarity, then after a whole 12 days I have already gained clarity on a few things.

Perhaps the greatest insight so far has come from living without Internet searching capability, leaving me with a timely dependence on another superlative resource: God’s word.

As it often happens, shortly after determining what I would relinquish for Lent, a great need for that thing arose. A weighty decision had to be made regarding one of our children’s medical care, and I was unable to equip myself with information from appropriate Web sites or parent discussion boards.

I knew no shortage of opinions would exist among friends and family, but I decided to ask the God who made this child and chose us for her parents, for not just clarity, but peace with a decision. I picked up my Bible, unsure of where to begin. I opened to the middle, to Psalm 51, which happened later to be part of that day’s liturgy.

What happened then can only be likened to the experience of removing every piece of furniture in a room except two chairs: one for God, one for me. Rather than seeking a one-shot answer from God as I had in the past, allowing Him to interject between Web searches and others’ advice, I found myself in a peaceful dialogue with Him as He worked to whittle out the unessential and create in me a “steadfast spirit” of courage necessary to being a parent. I look forward to the final result.

When we declutter our hearts during Lent, we can discover not only what we are able to live without, but ultimately what gives us life: God’s eternal promise revealed in the Resurrection.

A very happy spring cleaning to you all this Lent.

Tithing 100 percent of our trust to God leads to heavenly treasures

Posted January 18, 2008

Imagine if God demanded that 10 percent of your health, or 10 percent of your years on earth, or 10 percent of your children, be returned to him. Most would protest, “But I need all my health, and all my time, so that I can take care of all my children! I can’t spare any of them!”

But at some point, all good parents realize that their children are not their own. To look into the face of a child is to get a glimpse into God’s supreme creativity. How He could come up with those details, all the mechanisms of such a small body that works on its own with only help for nourishment, is awesome. It’s a humbling realization when parents conclude that just as they didn’t create this little life, neither are they in ownership of it.

Submission and gratitude

This year I watched three people lose a father in a swift and unpredictable manner. In each case, that father was given little or no time to say goodbye to his children. Surely each man concluded that we do not own our time, or ultimately even our health.

So it would seem that the proper response to a God who only asks for 10 percent of our time, health, or children — and would allow us to keep 90 percent of each — should be not merely submission, but gratitude. But alas, God does not ask for a percentage of any of these.

What He does ask for, evident in multiple places in Scripture, is a percentage of our treasure. There is some debate about how this exactly translates into our finances; whether a tithe actually means 10 percent of our gross or net income, and how much of that should go to the Church and how much to other charitable or worthwhile organizations. Truthfully, I don’t know who’s debating. But I have a feeling that those people, like the agnostic W.C. Fields on his deathbed with a Bible in hand, are “lookin’ for loopholes.”

One thing I had to submit to early in marriage to my husband was his idea of tithing. “Ten percent off the gross, straight to Church and charity,” he said plainly. Aghast, I returned with myriad arguments, beginning with my college loans and debt, and ending with several tithing loopholes I had myself discovered through some miserly advisors. But he asked me to trust him, assuring that God had “always taken care” of him in the past. From that day we began the practice of writing our tithe check before ever even looking at the bills.

The process was terrifying at first, since I knew my teacher’s salary and his fluctuating sales income could only stretch so far. Over time, however, I noticed that we were well taken care of, even more so than when I was giving much less to the Church. To me it seemed a miracle.

Acting on faith

As a result of placing 100 percent of our trust in God, and only 10 percent of our income, we have come to use the other 90 percent much better. I have also come to understand that tithing isn’t so much about paying the Church’s very real bills as it is about trusting. It begins with stepping out of the comfortable and really putting our faith in God. As the great author Fyodor Dostoevsky put it, “Faith is not born from miracles, but miracles from faith.”

The Magi are a consummate example of this faith. They spent days journeying to see the newborn king of the Jews, bringing with them valuable gifts. In fact, treasure. They were men of science and reason and yet faith led them to leave their comfortable home and journey toward the uncertain. What they witnessed was a miracle.

God waits for us to act on faith, with our hearts and with our treasure, since the latter, Jesus tells us, indicates the former (Mt 6:21). When we trust him entirely with both, miracles happen.

Bring on the Christmas season: Holy Family stands front and center

I know there are those who really pooh-pooh the idea of stores starting their Christmas marketing in early November. Not this mom. For me, it is a welcome change from the ghoulish figures of Halloween that began filling the minds of my children in August.

By November the nightmares created by some ridiculous headless goblin with a gruesome laugh give way to images of joy and cheer: a cultured snowman with a top hat and cane; a busy bearded man with a to-do list who is still happily married to his concerned and involved wife of too many years to count; lots of dutiful little workers who believe, as their boss does, that the most important people on earth — children — are never seen as a burden.

Some would say I am overstating the value of secular Christmas images. Perhaps I am. In our house, however, all those images stand willingly in the shadow of the greatest image of the season: the Holy Family.

For two months out of the year we are surrounded by images of the Holy Family. It’s my own fault since I collect them. Our home is filled with nativities, mother-and-child figurines, and multi-medium fashionings of the three people I most admire: Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Family traditions founded in faith

Like other families, one of our many Christmas traditions is to have our family portrait taken for Christmas cards. I am always impressed if the photographer gets most of us looking at the camera, never mind looking holy.

In my son’s eye is usually a twinkle of mischief, his older sister seems to be posing for a little princess competition, and our youngest has the look of any child who is being cajoled by a squeaky toy on the other side of the camera. My husband looks handsome and strong, and I often look a touch better than tired. Honestly, anything different would be counterfeit, and not an image I would care to keep.

As the cards from friends and family pour in to our mailbox in increasing numbers each year, we begin another of our traditions: our Holy Family prayer wall. Each family’s picture is attached to a garland made by the little hands in our house. As we fix them in place, one by one, we say the simple prayer, “Jesus, make them a holy family.”

When the season is over, those photos will be cut and placed into a scrapbook for each of our children so they can pray for the families throughout the year. The fighting over each picture is less than holy, but the end result, we hope, is sanctifying for someone.

The bottom line is that we are teaching our children that images mean something. The image of the family is one we want burned into their little minds as holy. It’s the reason we teach them to write “JMJ” at the top of their school papers. It’s the reason that each of our kids has his or her own miniature nativity set.

Because enough time spent sitting in front of those precious figures will fix an image in their mind. And no matter how you move them around, those little people only make sense when their gaze is fixed on Christ.

Ergo, they’ll conclude, when Jesus is the center of the family, then any family can be holy. Anything different would be counterfeit, and not an image we would care to keep.

Mary Moore is a regular contributor to The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.

Finding your secondary ministry:

We must listen to God’s call

Let’s be clear: God has called all parents to the primary ministry of family, of raising their kids in the way they should go (Proverbs 22:6).

Husbands, your ministry is also etched out pretty clearly in Ephesians 5: Love your wives. Wives, our ministry is detailed thoroughly in Proverbs 31. But if all the husbands, wives and parents are busy fulfilling only their primary ministry, who is going to help with all that work in the vineyard?

This is, I think, where secondary ministry comes in.

In our secondary ministry, working with engaged couples, my husband and I tell the couples that the best thing they can do after arriving home from their honeymoon is walk into their parish office and sign up for a ministry together. This goes for those who are far from the Lord, those who are close to Him, and those somewhere in between. The reason is that any honest effort in that ministry works to dispel the selfishness and “loss-of-self syndrome” that can often sneak into the first year of marriage.

The work is not easy, of course. If there is one consistency in the ministry work I do with my husband it is that the week prior to any talk we are scheduled to give to engaged couples will be filled with disappointments in our relationship. In general, each of us becomes acutely in tune with the many ways in which the other person does not do things just right. As a result, we are overcome with a grand sense of hypocrisy, questioning why we are even involved in God’s plan to prepare others for the vocation.

God’s plan

Whenever I explain this phenomenon to other couples in marriage preparation ministry, I am overwhelmed at the number of nodding heads. Apparently we are not only joined in our imperfect practice of marriage, but in our keen awareness of it. Still, like the other couples, we remain in this ministry, and the work God does through our evolving marriage is always generous. As it turns out, all He really needs from us is that we show up without our egos.

Often showing up can even be a trial. Scheduling a babysitter on weeknights, or dragging our children in their pajamas to childcare can be discouraging, making us question whether this season of our lives should really be spent serving those outside our family in such a way. But the answer comes back loud and clear each time, usually in the words of a nervous bride- or groom-to-be who only initially agreed to go through marriage preparation in the Church in order to appease a fiancé or parent: “Thanks. I didn’t want to be here, but I’m glad we came now. I’d never heard this view of marriage before.”

Then we are glad we came, too. Glad we didn’t let the nagging sense of hypocrisy talk us out of it. Not so much because we changed anyone, but because God changed us.

He made our marriage — in spite of our many imperfections and our busy schedules — salt and light. And to think, if we had given in to the discouragement, that person might have missed God’s plan for his marriage. Because the same 40-or-so people working tirelessly for God’s kingdom in each parish shouldn’t have to do it alone.

The present shortage of priests is not the result of God’s halted call, but of those who have failed to listen. Similarly, each of us must listen intently to the Lord’s call to a secondary ministry during each season of our lives. The ministry may change, and should never detract from the primary vocation of motherhood, fatherhood, husband and wife.

But committing to a secondary ministry does not end in sacrifice; it begins there. The end is something we shall not know this side of heaven, but we can hope it will result in our hearing the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

OCTOBER 18, 2007

Living with war: Praying for families whose parents fight for freedom

As a general rule, I avoid big sale events. I find shopper-mania exhausting, and coupon cutters intimidating.

But a few times each year I find myself circling the children’s clothing department like a bird of prey, just waiting until the racks can no longer hold their once-reduced merchandise and the store must slash even the clearance price to give way to a real steal. Beckoned at the start of summer by such a rack, I ended up with several pair of little boys’ pajamas slung over my arm, all of them part of a military theme.

Forget that my son prefers animal rescuers to camouflage and artillery. For 80-percent off, he can pretend to be G.I. Joe for a night or two. One set even came with a free bag of those little green army men I remember playing with as a child. Whether motivated by nostalgia or the thrice-reduced price, I grabbed them without intimation of the eventual lesson they would teach us.

My husband and I haven’t talked much in detail about war with our children, in spite of the fact that our country is presently involved in one. Maybe we are afraid that the answers are too complicated or that we will introduce to them new fears we have ourselves. We just pray for the safety of soldiers in general terms and that God would bring a lasting peace to the Middle East. Since most of the prayer falls on sleepy ears at the end of the day, we haven’t been asked for additional explanation. That is, until I brought home the new pajamas.

The kids had a great time playing with the little plastic soldiers in the kitchen, lining them up as best they could, given the often poorly crafted plastic bases of each little man. When I heard them calling the figures knights, and then ninjas, I realized it was time for a little history lesson.

We talked about war and about the brave men and women who volunteer to fight for our country so that we can sit around the kitchen and feel safe as we talk about them. We talked about all those who have given their lives for freedom and goodness and for people like us whom they have never met. And as I briefly but brilliantly danced around political land mines, citing examples from wars in history that shaped our American character, my 5-year-old just stared at her line of soldiers at eye level. She interrupted me somewhere between WWI and II and asked if some of the men who were fighting today had children.

“Yes,” I said, “and they have chosen to defend our family far away instead of getting to be with their own family here right now.” The weight of that statement hit me and I tried to hide the lump in my throat as I finished it.

Just then, her wobbly soldier toppled.

She looked up and said, “I sure am glad Daddy isn’t a soldier.”

We both cried then, and took a moment to pray for all the daddies who are soldiers. Then we put together a very special package for a soldier, complete with drawings and goodies and one very special item: a little green army man, hand-selected by the children in our home — one with a sturdy base who doesn’t topple easily.

Before I sealed the box, my daughter tucked the little figurine in carefully and told me to include him “so the soldier doesn’t forget who he is.” I included a cross for the same reason.

The price of sale rack camo pajamas: $4. The cost of sending a care package to a soldier overseas: $25. Having a child realize that freedom isn’t free: priceless.

SEPTEMBER 6, 2007

Date nights: Married couples still need to make time for each other

If there is one thing that can never be underestimated — besides the damage one unsupervised little boy can do with a deserted power drill — it’s the importance of a married couple that still dates each other.

In marriage, dating cannot be counted a luxury. It is an absolute necessity and can work on any budget and in any situation. No excuses.

My husband and I have two different sorts of date nights. The first requires little effort after the kids go to bed early each Friday. We get takeout from a local restaurant, talk briefly about our week, and then watch the latest DVD to arrive in our mailbox. It’s my favorite night of the week.

The other date night is less frequent and much more complicated. It involves recruiting, transporting and paying a reliable teenager to care for our precious cargo. Then there is the strategizing of bottles and dinners for the children, setting out pajamas and toothbrushes, and leaving detailed instructions in case the sitter should need to reach us, our six closest friends, or Poison Control.

Really, by the time we leave the house, my husband and I are ready for bed. But we plug on, inspired by the warm feelings we had last time we went to all this trouble.

There are a few things that make this monthly adventure better than even our Friday nights:

The first is planning. My husband is an expert at searching out the best little ethnic restaurant, making reservations if necessary, and keeping it all a surprise until we get there. Of course there are spots we frequent, having found their ambience conducive to two tired parents who are pretending to be put-together adults for a few hours. Whichever is the case, I don’t have to do a thing.

The second is budget. Because we have made these dates regular and mandatory in our marriage, we prioritize a portion of our budget for them. This makes any nervous inspection of the menu all but nonexistent. And it brings us back to that blessed free spiritedness in our early years of dating when it was clear that the other person was worth splurging on.

The third is conversation. For our anniversary one year, my husband requested a book titled “Fifty Unforgettable Dates with Your Mate.” At the end of each date’s description was a list of creative questions to ask one another, like “If money were not an option, what dream would you fulfill in your life right now?” They are questions we wouldn’t normally ask one another after eight years of marriage, or after the abovementioned fatiguing preparation for a night away from the children.

We also agree that only a portion of the conversation can be about the kids. If there is a big decision to be made about one of them, or even a little silly story worth retelling, we only do so for part the date. The rest of the conversation is given to each other, and to taking the proverbial temperature of our relationship. Somewhere in the middle of the serious and the impractical, we end up laughing our heads off and I recall the reason I am so lucky to be married to my best friend.

In preserving this dating routine, we do more than nurture our relationship. We set an example.

The faces we kiss before leaving the house know that we are all dressed up and going out, to be with each other, alone. Our hope is that they will see how we honor each other this way, reserving time just for our marriage. Then they will realize that we are more than Mom and Dad; we are a husband and wife who believe that our most important relationship on Earth takes work, and that work can be delightful.

Mary Moore is a regular contributor to The Catholic Sun.

JULY 19, 2007
Moral relativism
Kids’ library book not so innocent

I love to take my children to the library. Every other week, they are each allowed to choose five new books to read at home.

My son makes a bit of a ruckus on his hunt for the best five books about horses or cowboys. On rare occasions a new, non-equestrian theme enters the book bag. Such was the case on our most recent trip to our friendly neighborhood public library.

Prior to checkout, I shuffled through his picks, carefully editing in the event he had chosen something shocking, as in one horse being especially unkind to another. The lot seemed pretty predictable as usual: ponies, “pardners,” cartoon-talking reptiles, and then… “Heather Has Two Mommies.”

That last one is a book about a little girl named Heather whose parents are homosexual partners who used donated sperm and in vitro fertilization to conceive her. And it was in the “easy reader” section.

Swift of foot, I brought the paperback to the librarian at the children’s desk. I was sure it was in the wrong section despite the Dewey decimals denoting differently.

She informed me otherwise. She stated that although the book had been contested before several times, it remains in the section because “there are families with this kind of make up.”

I thought to mention that there are in all probability families in which the father is a licentious drug dealer, but I doubt I could find a book on them… at my son’s eye level… in the kids’ section.

Theme aside, the book is really very poorly written, and not formatted at all like a children’s book. It reads more like a how-to-explain-to-children-about-alternative-lifestyles book. Poor Heather is just a vehicle. The details and illustrations within are fairly graphic, including a trip by one of Heather’s “mommies” to the gynecologist.

As I continued to object to the book’s placement, the librarian reminded me that I was in a public library. I reintroduced myself as a member of that taxpaying public, but to little avail. She simply handed me a “challenge” form, and I did my best impression of a calm Christian mother as I checked out of the library.

Somewhere in this free country, I lost the right to have my kids walk through the children’s section of the public library and remain the innocents I brought in. And if I am not mistaken, my desire for this makes me something of a bizarre ascetic in need of sensitivity training.

And while the works of Melville and Milton will remain in the canon of great books of the Western world without threat from “Heather Has Two Mommies,” the latter’s ready availability to children in the library should cause great concern for all of us. The message it delivers is one all too present in our society today: that the role of male and female is interchangeable and virtually indistinct. That fatherhood, per se, is really outdated and parents are little more than economic benefactors.

This summer will bring well-deserved vacations and time off from school. And it will also give parents a full-time opportunity to act as a different kind of lifeguard, one who exercises an honest Christian compassion for those who have been swept away by a misleading tide, and one that is also unabashed to jump in to rescue a child from the sweeping undercurrent of moral relativism.

Mary Moore is a regular contributor to The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.

MAY 17, 2007
Rocking the cradle Catholic
‘Setting the world ablaze’ with the Spirit

We have a little tradition in our family where my husband and I take each child out once a month on a date. It usually involves a simple formula: ice cream, lots of mom or dad’s attention, and great conversation about what is going on in their life. Recently with my 5-year-old daughter the topic turned toward college.

Since she is “graduating” from kindergarten, she was curious as to how many more “days of school” were left until she was grown up. I explained about the various stages of school and when I got to college, her interest was piqued. Studying to be whatever she wanted interested her immensely, so she asked me the million dollar question that would reveal to me her goals for herself at this tender age of 5.

“Can I go to school to be a princess?”

After gagging on my mint chip, I explained that a princess is a career into which a person is born and is fraught with much responsibility. She moved on to her second choice.

“I think I want to be a nun, but I’ll have to see what their college looks like.”

Far from being distraught that she hadn’t chosen “mommy” or “teacher” or even “freelance writer,” I was relieved. You see, it’s entirely possible to meet a doctor that complains about his patients, a teacher who whines about her students, or a union worker who shakes his fist and curses the man. Those “colleges” might all be pretty discouraging. But the nuns she has encountered are filled with the joy of a newlywed. As a mom, I want that kind of joy for her, no matter what her profession.

More than anything else, I want her to be a Catholic.

It’s easy to be Catholic some of the time. Everyone’s Catholic on Fat Tuesday. But I want my daughter to encounter Catholicism as it should be, so that she will live her faith as it should be lived. For assistance in this, I can count on the fact that she will never meet a lukewarm nun.

St. Catherine of Siena once said, “If you are what you should be, you would set the world ablaze.” Lukewarmness has no place in a world set ablaze. In fact, those who attend that college face a whole different kind of expulsion. See Revelation 3:16.

The Church was born from Christ’s gift of the Holy Spirit, as we recall on Pentecost Sunday. Tongues of fire blazed above the disciples and they couldn’t contain the good news. Such a sight would surely rock the average cradle Catholic, as does any encounter with the Holy Spirit.

So if my daughter “is what she should be,” perhaps she will rock a cradle or two, as a mother, or as a sister. Either way, she’ll do it as a daughter of her Divine Father, who has every intention of using her to set the world ablaze.

Mary Moore is a regular contributor to The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.

APRIL 19, 2007
The benefits of having children
God’s love multiplies exponentially

My husband is a sucker for a three-foot salesman. Lemonade stands, Girl Scout cookies — he can’t say no. It’s one of the reasons I love him so much.

With the arrival of our newest daughter, I was given one more reason to love my husband, and thus take advantage of the many perks of having more children.

I am often asked, now that we have three whole offspring, if we are “done.” To this question I simply respond, “You’d have to ask God,” which, I suppose, is better than the grammatical correction that “Turkeys are done, people are finished.” I’ll admit that during moments of great parenting frustration, I have been known to suggest to the Lord that He might not want to push His luck in giving us another, but I would never presume to tell Him His plans. A wise woman once assured me that if I wanted to hear God laugh, I should tell Him my plans.

I am not entirely sure what a “healthy” attitude toward family size is, except that it involves openness — openness to God’s plan and openness to life — and that those two are not mutually exclusive ideas.

In my experience, the former involves a degree of heartache dependent upon the latter. Each morning I am awoken by one of three little voices, and the absence of one I shall never hear until Heaven. Because of the child behind each little voice, I am a more virtuous person than I would have been without them. That is, my children give me more opportunities to experience the virtues of patience, self-donation and courage. And while the result of their practice often appears as a frazzled woman in need of a “Calgon moment,” inside I am changed into someone more like Christ than I otherwise would have been.

We don’t have children because we are “ready” or because “it’s time” or because we think “they will make us happy” — these are the reasons we buy a dog. We have children because God allows us to, and as a result, we find ourselves enjoying moments of happiness that otherwise we wouldn’t know.

‘Another woman’

One such moment recently involved my husband who had suffered a long day at work. Having gotten the other children bathed and in bed so I could get a few things done, I found him slow dancing with his 6-week-old girl in the hallway, humming an out-of-tune version of “Amazing Grace” in an attempt to get her to sleep. It was working for both of them as I watched him fight sleep standing up.

There are things I anticipated in having another child: the additional 10 minutes I would be late to anywhere, the reality of having one more person than my husband and I, being only two, could carry at any one time, and the increasing comments from strangers like, “Apparently, you don’t know what causes that.”

What I didn’t count on was God’s math. In God’s arithmetic, love does not divide among an increased number of beloveds. It multiplies exponentially. And that ability to love, in turn, is shared by others. As a result, a moment of slow dancing between my husband and another woman in the hallway is 100 times more romantic to me than the night he bent his knee to ask for my hand eight years ago.

And the patience I lacked eight years ago I now practice in coordinating a world-class, unsuccessful lemonade stand three times in the same week, because his children asked me to.

Perspectives

January 18, 2007

Post-Advent Reflections
Mary carried promise of Christ

Perhaps, like me, you felt a little cheated by the shorter Advent season this year. Perhaps the end of carols and the packing away of nativity sets seem all too soon. Perhaps you could use one more Advent meditation.

I have had the great joy of being pregnant along with our Blessed Mother this Advent, sharing a period of waiting with Mary, who “held all these things in her heart.”

Our heart should be like a womb during Advent. Mary’s was. She had God’s promise in her heart, fed by little moments of revelation:

An angel. Cousin John dancing in his mother’s womb. A child that stirred within her own, each month even more, the Savior’s kicks. And shepherds that came to meet her son soon after His birth.

This last revelation is worth meditating upon. After giving birth in less-than-sanitary conditions, Mary welcomed strangers into her circumstances. And they likely stayed awhile as she struggled to comfort and nurse her newborn child. It is likely they could not take their eyes off the Savior, the promise of 2,000 years. And there she was, just having given birth, showing her son to visitors.

I can imagine the moment went something like this:

Joseph: Dear, I am sorry to bother you. How is He doing? Is He eating yet? There are some shepherds here that have come to see Jesus. They say angels came to them in the fields and told them about…

Mary: Angels???

She knew about such couriers and her heart filled with joy that she and her husband were not alone in God’s provision of heralds.

Mary: Send them in!

Perhaps she propped herself up on her elbow and showed them the sleeping child. And her eyes filled with tears when they beheld Him with such awe and wonder.

Perhaps she had been wondering if she and her family were alone in the truth, the miracle of this promised and perfect little boy. But God had revealed His plan to others, who saw the great worth of her small child.

“Is this Him?” they asked in accord. “Is this the Savior of Israel?”

“Yes,” she whispered. And the tears she could not hold back, those filled with the knowledge she had “held in her heart” for nine months, poured forth like water behind a broken dam.

“This is Him,” she sobbed with humble gratitude.

Each Advent we have the chance to hold the knowledge of Christ’s coming in our hearts: the words of Isaiah, the Psalms, the Gospels.

Like a pregnant mother, we become a sign to others, full of His promise of life, so full that our regular trappings don’t fit, and we must change them. Everything about our earthly garments, our visible shell, begins to change and reflect the Lord’s goodness.

And after moments in the presence of this joy, strangers can’t help but ask, “Is that Him?” And we answer, “Yes,” glad that they, too, have seen His goodness.

Then perhaps those strangers can reflect God’s presence to others, like water reflects the sky. And they do it not because they saw a tree in a store or heard someone say “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays,” but because they experienced His presence and shared it with others. Then perhaps the words of Isaiah will take on flesh again: “A little child will lead them… and the earth will be full of the knowledge of Yahweh, as the waters cover the sea” (Is 11: 6,9).

December 7, 2006

Parents, looking for role models?
Take a look in the mirror

In the summer preceding my junior year in high school, I attended a John Macleod basketball camp at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff. In addition to a week away from my parents and camaraderie with team members, I was most looking forward to meeting my NBA idol: the architect of the two-handed, behind-the-back slam dunk, Larry Nance. I had even saved up for a slick new pair of high-tops just so I could get his autograph on them.

On the morning of his presentation, I wiggled my way up to the front of a hundred high schoolers in the Lumberjack Gym — clasping tightly my unworn pair of Nikes — and awaited his pearls of wisdom on life and sports and that famous slam dunk. Disappointment does not begin to describe my reaction to not only the lack of pearls, but to his refusal to sign my shiny white shoes. I was heartbroken.

The next day we gathered again before drills, this time to hear motivation from some lesser known NBA player with a Slavic last name I couldn’t pronounce. He spoke to us about the importance of practice, perseverance and the potential of every person for excellence. Then he attempted to make a basket from every angle of the three-point perimeter — twice — in under three minutes, starting again from the beginning if he missed any shot. He did it, in just under three minutes. It was more than impressive to my 16-year-old eyes — it was inspiring. And I let him sign my shoes.

Many of us recall the notorious commercial starring NBA star Charles Barkley who proudly opened with the words “I am not a role model.” It came at a time when sports stars’ lives were beginning to dupe their fans who thought them to be pretty upstanding citizens. Barkley’s words, though initially controversial, became the proud slogan of many who found themselves relieved of the task of having to live a life above reproach. Somehow, “role model” had been mistaken for “super hero,” and knowing the later didn’t actually exist led us all to conclude the former was also impossible.

Any parent knows better. Parents know that their job necessarily entails modeling behavior. And a paparazzi-shadowed lifestyle ain’t got nothin’ on a stay-at-home parent’s, which is constantly lived in front of children’s eyes. This is where I find the wisdom of that then-lesser known basketball player so important. A life lived above reproach is impossible without practice, persistence and the knowledge that each of us can work toward excellence. These principles translate for Christians as regular prayer, reliance on grace and the reminder that we are each made in God’s image.

When in doubt of role models, consider St. Augustine of Hippo. A man fraught with pride and licentiousness, he concluded in his autobiographical “Confessions” a certain truth which gives Barkley’s motto a run for the role model’s money: “We are restless until we rest in God.” Restlessness is not the goal, but the inspiration. In our restlessness, we must seek God’s will and face, knowing it is to Him that we are ultimately modeling our behavior. For parents, children are simply the immediate litmus test of its quality.

I still have my McLeod Camp high-tops, signed by my role model at age 16, NBA All-Star Jeff Hornacek. They are completely worn out from countless basketball drills and discipline that lead to games won and lost. I have taken them out on a tough day of parenting, or when I hear my own words come from my children’s mouths and they are less than exemplary. They lead me to solicit prayer from my other role models, the saints in heaven, and then I thank God for the opportunity and the reasons in parenthood to aspire toward holiness.

Mary Moore is a regular contributor to The Catholic Sun.

Rediscovering the most of us, too
October 19, 2006

After six months of training for an athletic competition, I discovered that the promoters dedicated a significant amount of space on its Web site to “educating” girls on their options regarding sexual preference, contraception and abortion.

Too late to withdraw the entry fee, I decided to educate myself better before entering future races. Anyone who has discovered the same may be just as discouraged to realize how far reaching the tentacles are of Planned Parenthood. Few degrees of separation reveal their involvement with many athletic, health and educational organizations.

Over time I also found that many of the principles which groups like Planned Parenthood and the National Organization for Women are founded upon have subtly worked their way into American culture.

Take Forbes magazine’s recently released list of “The 100 Most Powerful Women in the World.” The assemblage of these women, made up of world leaders, entrepreneurs, executives and a smattering of American talk show hosts, proves a point: To be considered powerful, a woman is expected to bury her femininity and embrace the contemporary definition of success.

No Mary Peterson, the 30-year-old founder of three Valley homes empowering single mothers who choose life over abortion for their child? And no Mother Teresa or Poor Clare types on the list? Now those are some powerful women. And they are feminine. Those women exemplify the fullness of God’s potential in His creation of woman.

The power of the female is her ability to take in something and to work with it and bring about its beauty. By “pondering all these things in her heart,” Mary gave us a vision of our Savior which only a mother could provide. Her soul magnified the Lord.

One great manifestation of a woman’s magnifying quality is found in pregnancy. She takes in the genesis of a life and makes of it something beautiful, not by her own effort, but by her “yes” or her submission. Her unique ability to nurture another human life by suppressing her own needs reveals the formula of her greatness. Perhaps to most of us post-feminist revolution folks who have been marinating in the subtle messages I mentioned earlier, these sound rather like the qualities of a good doormat.

Extreme feminist organizations continue to promulgate the idea that to be powerful a woman must be sterile and self-fulfilling. Satan knows this. For this reason, he went after woman first in the Garden of Eden. For this reason, he is seen in the book of Revelation ready to devour the child of the laboring mother. He likes nothing better than an infertile soul that magnifies itself.

But there is hope. There is a shining new Eve for us all to enlist, often pictured standing on top of a serpent for this very reason. The hope we have in the example of the Mother of Jesus invokes in each of us our very best qualities. She reminds us that our dignity and greatness as humans is bound to our Creator, not in the ability to recreate our worth by settling for our least.

Teach the principles of feminine genius to your children through the lives of the saints, or simply by pointing out the beautiful and “magnifying” soul of a friend. Help young boys avoid “girls are dumb” statements by acknowledging the God-given differences between boys and girls in a positive, lighthearted way.

Likewise, reminding girls of all the masculine soul has to offer will help foster a healthy respect for men and their great role in the building of the kingdom.

Parents, we have a chance to rebuild the next generation into one that sees dignity in every person and sainthood as humanly possible through a soul that is magnified by God’s grace.

Mary Moore is a regular contributor to The Catholic Sun.

Oct. 5, 2006

Rediscovering the most of us

In the five years that I taught high school English to at-risk students, there was a phrase I came to deplore and deem inadmissible in my classroom: “At least,” as in: “Well, at least I did my homework” or “At least I brought a pen today.”

It became quite obvious to me that the reason these students found themselves labeled as “at-risk” of failure or dropping out of school was not at all because of their lack of intelligence or opportunity, but because for most of their lives people had come to expect and solicit the very least from them. Many of these young men and women had turned to skipping school, using drugs, and seeking acceptance through immature sexual relationships to find what “at least” would work to momentarily satisfy a situation.

Even the school system had implemented a curriculum with the bare minimum requirements so “at least” these kids could graduate, never mind become better people from their education. Thanks to a trusting and rather nonconformist principal, I was permitted to create my own curriculum, implementing literary classics and a creative writing program that demanded the best of these kids. How satisfying was the reaction of parents at the end of the school year who witnessed their 19-year-old son, lucky to attend 50 days of school in years past, now perform the lead in “Othello”? Their success boosted their self-esteem, leading some students to become much more than their least. Indeed, they became images of the likeness of God.

The “least syndrome” extends well beyond a handful of inner-city students. The number of times I hear even good Christians make excuses for behavior using a similar phrase, “only human,” is distressing. As Christians we should understand being “human” as a remarkable privilege above all of God’s creation, even angels. It means we are made in body and spirit, made in the image of God. To say that being “human” ultimately means you’re a sinner capable of merely learning by failures entirely robs the Incarnation of Christ of its full, miraculous meaning. Even more, it robs each one of us of our most natural endowment: dignity. We don’t earn dignity by overcoming screw-ups; we inherit it by being human.

Good reminders to us as Catholics of our potential for greatness are the saints. No saint ever made it to heaven by mediocrity. Even Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta said that any little thing we accomplish should be done with great love. And yet how tempting it is to measure ourselves with the little that is expected of us in society.

I recently confessed to a close friend one of my many failures as a parent, and she was quick to respond, “While we all try to be the Blessed Mother, we just aren’t.” But my failure had occurred because I had failed even to attempt this model, not because I failed to achieve it.

Consider the persistent opposition to abstinence-only education and the recent wide release of the Plan B pill. Each purports the very least of men and women, that as human beings we are incapable of self-control or of taking responsibility for our actions.

In the next edition of The Catholic Sun, I hope to take a closer look at the population most affected by this universal promotion of a human being’s very least — women — and present a few hopeful solutions to countering its effect in our families, and ultimately society.

Sept. 7, 2006

Choosing a godparent

John Paul II was certainly correct when he stated, “Parents must be acknowledged as the first and foremost educators of their children. Their role as educators is so decisive that scarcely anything can compensate for their failure in it.”

Well said. Still, more than my own wisdom, preparation and struggle for holiness, I have come to count on two things for my children’s welfare: grace and guardian angels.

Upon turning another year older, I was patted on the back by a wise man who assured me I had earned every day thus far. Personally, I think that’s selling my guardian angels and my godparents short. Left to our own devices, and all things being equal, most of us should not be where we are today. Thanks to grace and guardian angels, all things are not equal — they truly tip the scales in our favor.

One great source of grace for every Catholic should be the prayers of godparents, so their role is worth a second look. Because if I am not mistaken, there is a great number of parents out there wondering what exactly constitutes a godparent.

The Church teaches us that a godparent should be “a trustworthy witness” of the faith who will help the godchild attain salvation and that they are entrusted with a special responsibility: “participating in the child’s Christian life, formation and education.”

Practically speaking, a godparent’s number one job is prayer. It’s not guardianship or remembering to send cards, gifts and money on their godchild’s birthday. It’s advocacy for grace.

As a mom of two very adventurous little souls, I know how much grace plays a role in their safety and their upbringing in the faith. Consequently, my husband and I have our children’s godparents on speed dial. Each one has been summoned to prayer on our way to the emergency room, or after a grace-made-possible hair’s escape from, and even once from inside a bedroom closet during a mommy meltdown while potty training.

After only three years, I am certain the godparents of my son — who makes the Energizer Bunny look like Pa Kettle — have worn the knees of several pairs of pants in advocacy.

Knowing then the serious dependency we have on these individuals for our children’s salvation, the discernment involved in choosing them, for us, begins the moment the pregnancy test turns positive.

First, we look for faithful Catholics with a devoted prayer life. Second, we look for them to be a righteous or virtuous person because Scripture tells us, “The fervent prayer of a righteous person is very powerful.” (James 5:16).

Finally, we make our request clear: “What we are asking of you is prayer. Not days at the ballpark, not presents, but prayer.” Those who have accepted, I believe, understand our requirement to be the harder part.

Re-birthdays

Traditionally, many people choose a family member or close friend to be a godparent as a title of honor or a way to incorporate them in a special way into the baby’s baptism day. The role becomes predominately ceremonial. In many cases, the godparent is not fully aware or perhaps forgets after time their role in the child’s salvation. In such a case there is still great opportunity for everyone involved to grow in faith: re-birthdays.

Re-birthdays have become a fairly big deal in our house. A re-birthday is the day we recall someone’s baptism (the day they were “made a new creation” by water and the Spirit). We bake a cake and place the baptism candle in the center before blowing it out. We take out their baptismal gown and look at pictures of their first sacrament.

A few suggestions to make the most of this opportunity. First, invite the godparents to celebrate if they live nearby. Have the child make a card for them and explain why their godparents should be so important to them. If they are not doing it already, encourage your child to intercede during bedtime prayer for their godparents.

As a gift on the re-birthday, consider giving the godparents a book on prayer, or on your child’s patron saint if they are named after one, a rosary, a booklet on how to pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, or simply a daily devotional. Encouraging someone’s prayer life should be one of the greatest gifts we can give and should never come across as condescending. One of the finest compliments I received from a person I admire was his suggestion that we continue to “pray for one another.” He encouraged my prayer life in doing so, and we became accountable in a way to one another for each other’s salvation. What an honor and responsibility.

And perhaps, in the long run, a prayerful godparent can even save a guardian angel quite a bit of trouble.

Comments are welcome
Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org

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