No excuses

I don't usually post much about fitness, mostly because there is nothing tangible that I have to show for it.
Though I've grown really interested in fitness and it has become a huge part of my life, it isn't really my place to say much at this point---  I am light years ahead of where I was, but way behind where I want to be.

Lately, however, I've been reading a lot of threads on facebook from mothers who want to lose weight and get in shape---  but say that they don't have the time to do it.
The sheer amount of responses from people in the same situation commiserating with one another is an indication of how common this problem is.
I posted a comment response one day in yet another thread about it on facebook that was poorly received by most people in there. What I said was: "I understand how hard it is. You will feel better if you just. do. it."
Let's just say that wasn't received very well.

And what I read in response to my comment, I realized, was a literal flood of excuses....excuses I've been guilty of making myself in the past.
Hence this post.

Before I begin, let me just repeat that I used to be that mom. In fact, on down days, I still am!!
So much.
I truly understand the struggle.
Maybe more than others. ;)

Do you relate to this great picture of normal motherhood? I do.

This is motherhood, in a nutshell.

My husband works long hours, and is often gone for days at a time. When he is home he doesn't "take over," to alleviate my duties much. He's not what I would call "easy-going," and requires a lot from me.
I have a lot of kids and they are all really young. They also require a lot from me.
We don't have any money for gyms or babysitters. I don't drive. We don't have a lot of equipment.
In the past, on most days, I could hardly get my teeth brushed in the morning or take a five minute shower, without someone getting injured or destroying my house,  let alone carve out an hour, or even ten minutes to "take care of myself."
(I'm exaggerating, of course, but these were my thoughts when I was really low.)
The days dragged on, but somehow time passed so quickly. The baby weight stayed. There was never the time to do anything about it.

My husband began to get frustrated. The weight was not attractive on me.
He and his friends have always led a very healthy lifestyle. They get together and work out. They work out at work. Supplements and nutrition are a normal part of their daily conversation.
They have favorite bodybuilders, something I always thought was lame and weird, to be honest. I didn't think muscles were interesting or worth spending time on.

But it was clear I was slightly depressed and basically felt like a robot in my daily life.
Where he and his friends were basically pretty happy, inside I was hurting at the suggestion that exercise was the answer to my problems--- I hadn't WANTED to be pregnant over and over again. I didn't love much of anything about being a young mother of many with everything that goes with that. Didn't anyone care about what I did want??!
I was determined to embrace motherhood, but to be honest, it felt just a teeny little bit like hell itself.

And then here was the real struggle: the absolute LAST thing I wanted to do was to make a priority out of exercise.  Exercise, in my mind, was punishment. It was more hell, not less.
It was something I needed to do in my five minutes of precious free time-- but not something I wanted to do.
In fact, it was something that I hated doing, that I felt made me miserable and was hard and uncomfortable.
I didn't want to sweat. I didn't want to change my clothes. I didn't want to go run. To be perfectly honest, all I wanted to do was collapse and wake up when my kids were older and my husband was happier to see me, or hide in the pantry and eat chocolate.

Most women seem to agree with me. There are more posts about fitness from men than women in my newsfeed on any given day, and WAY more posts about accepting fat and imperfections from women than men. We just don't seem to WANT to exercise.

When I thought about it, I did want my husband to respect me more, to love me more, and to want to spend time with me more, but I wanted it to be for "who I was," (which, btw, wasn't who I was when he married me, right? I was significantly larger, grumpier, and more tired, lazy, and whiny.)

I also wanted to enjoy my kids, and not feel drained by them. I wanted more energy. I wanted time to myself. I wanted to reach some personal goals. I wanted to have more confidence and fewer tears. I wanted to rewind life and be young again. I wanted some peace and quiet. I wanted to stop time-- maybe even to rewind it.

Here's what I learned when I finally gave up and started doing it: Exercise is the fountain of youth.

It is a confidence builder. It is the healthiest and most beneficial form of "me time." It will give me the energy I crave. It is a powerful form of meditation. It boosts my mood and relieves my pains and aches. It is an intellectual and spiritual pursuit, as well as a physical pursuit.
It reminds me of why I'm alive. It heals me. It gives me time to think and gets me away from the chaos and craziness of regular, daily mom-life.  And most importantly, it teaches me some powerful lessons about life: that everything I want to achieve requires sweat, patience, dying to myself, and perseverance. Slowly it is becoming my place of peace.

Enjoying a quiet morning run in nature.

No magical thing happened when I finally admitted that I had been weak, lazy, and wrong.

I didn't suddenly find the financial means to join a gym. I didn't find a perfect babysitter who I trusted and was free. I didn't suddenly discover that my hopes of losing all that baby weight with a 20 minute yoga video twice a week were founded in science. No. Nothing got "easier."
Except my attitude. And my strength.

I had made resolutions year after year, just like everyone else. I had told myself I would just give it a try for a day, a week, a month. And then stopped.
I'd give it a half-hearted attempt (like, five pushups) and then collapse. I'd tell myself I was doing OK for "a start." Then I'd skip it for a few days.
I had told myself that yoga was going to be my thing... the thing that worked. And I would do it, and love it. But I couldn't escape the other aspects of fitness that yoga wasn't addressing.
I still needed it, it wasn't going to be as enjoyable as a yoga class or as sitting on my butt on my couch, and I knew it.

Thankfully, it turned out that God was on my side because I also have a husband who is a bit of a pain and who pushed me. A lot. The instant he saw me take ANY interest in exercise, he would begin to push hard.
He would come home from his night shift and say to me: "get dressed, I'm going to take you over to the river trail for a run." There is no arguing with that man. (Believe me, I've tried.)
After many years of this, one day, out of desperation, and even out of anger...I tried it his way.
And it clicked.

The first few days I was surprised to learn that I felt good, but it wasn't a habit. A couple weeks later, it began to become a habit, but I noticed that I felt worse. When I felt worse, I didn't want to exercise.
This is normal--- but it felt like everything conspired against me. Every time I would make a small amount of progress, something would happen to stop me in my tracks. I began to despair. I wanted immediate results. When I would experience a wall, I'd just give up, and my husband would get frustrated. I could tell he'd almost given up on me, and I'd be tempted to give up on me, too.
After a while I got resentful, too, because the only time I could find to work out was after everyone, including he, had gone to bed.
The resentment affected my relationships and the lack of sleep affected my emotions.

I've always need a push to get moving on stuff that doesn't "feel good."
When I was younger, my brother, intent on joining the military, would fling me out of bed and scream at me to move faster as I ran down the street in his company.  He'd pile rocks in two backpacks, strap them on our backs, and then leave me in the dust, where I'd complain about being hot and tired while he'd do laps around me. In Basic Training my drill sergeants were so frustrated with me. They knew what I was capable of, but found that motivating me was almost impossible. Unless there was a fire under my butt, I wasn't going to do anything I didn't want to, not even for the US Army, and I nearly became the only private to graduate BCT who couldn't even do a dang pullup on my own.

My husband has the same problem. He can't make me work out. I have to want it.
So unless I was spending copious amounts of time in research mode studying up on motivational fitness ideas and methods I WANTED to try, I was a blob on the couch. It just wasn't "me."

I had to learn to give that up.
And in doing so, I learned an important lesson: motivation is half the battle.

One night I learned that a celebrity I had always admired and who happened to be extremely fit had had the same kinds of hold ups. His physique was amazing and I had always assumed was something that had come to him naturally.

That night, I read in an interview that he had had to be pushed every step of the way (Sound familiar?) and all of the tremendous things he had overcome along the way humbled me.
Eventually he learned that the only way that fitness was going to happen was if he worked and did things he didn't enjoy or feel like doing.
He had often had to work out at 10:30 at night, after exhausting trips and tours, and long after everyone else was asleep. Eventually, the hard work payed off and today he is famous for his singing ability, and even more so for his physique-- which prompted his encouraging, positive attitude and work ethic, which in turn have made him a dedicated husband, father, and friend, and a powerful witness to godly living.

It reminded me that my husband has the same story. He wasn't naturally fit, but in exercise he had learned many important life lessons, and he had found a lot of healing from the difficult things life had handed him when he was a child.

The more "success stories" I read like his, the better I felt about exercise. I stopped feeling so alone. I stopped feeling like the whole world was against me, and instead I started feeling like I was part of a family of the strongest people on earth. Super-humans.
And they were actually all around me. My neighbors. My co-workers. People I passed on the street.
Instead of tearing me down and making me feel inferior like I had thought they would, time spent with people or reading about people who were extremely fit always built me up and encouraged me not just to win at fitness, but at life.
I learned I didn't actually hate these fit people all around me. I admired them--- and with good reason. And the harder I tried, the more bonded we were, even though I'm not even CLOSE to where they are at in the physical realm.

Yet.

I started to find motivation in the funniest places-- in fitness professionals who had obviously reached success in their goals and overcome a lot to get there. I started following bodybuilders-- both men and women-- who posted about their fitness experiences on facebook and twitter, and reading their blogs.
It was weird, at first, because these were people I used to find actually physically repulsive, but I found amazing encouragement in their stories.
All of them had achieved incredible things with dedication, hard work, and persistence. Many of them had found healing from  their past.
And they really found joy in sharing those lessons with others, which in turn, helped bring a little sunshine and light to the world around them.

This gave me the strength to keep at it.
I wanted my kids to admire me like that one day, too. And I wanted my husband to be proud of me.
Still, every single step felt like work. Sometimes it was fun work, but many times... it was still drudgery.... at least before I got started.

And then one day, it happened.

I randomly weighed myself (I had not been weighing myself regularly on purpose, so as not to get discouraged) and learned I had lost a lot of weight. 20 lbs!

I went shopping and realized I was down a couple dress sizes for the first time in years.

In the mirror, I started to notice definition in my muscles where before there had been none. I could see muscles I had no idea I had.  Definition was appearing! It was so exciting!!!

My successes were really funny at first. I wanted to tell everyone, but at the same time, I couldn't believe they were things that I was dealing with.
The flap in my lower belly where pregnancy after pregnancy had left it's mark was suddenly lifted, instead of hanging over.... leaving me with great hope that it would one day actually flatten out and disappear. (ewwwww!)
My breasts, which had sagged from the heavy weight of nursing endlessly suddenly started sitting a little higher.
Picking up my baby was easier. And I could wear jeans again!
I discovered I had never, ever lifted with my legs, or squatted to pick something up and wondered where these movements had been all my life.... they were so helpful! Suddenly tasks around the house were less drudgery and became easier and even more fun. They hurt less and were over quicker.

A short while later, I again sustained a couple of serious injuries due to exercise.
Then came the failures.
For a time, the injuries felt like they had stopped me in my tracks. I let days and even weeks go by without doing anything of value in my workouts. I even stopped working out altogether. I stopped eating clean.
The weight came back.
I realized that exercise-- like life-- would always be like this. There would always be something.
I couldn't let that stop me. I had to keep pressing forward, making progress, being patient, being consistent. Admitting mistakes, learning from them, and letting them go. Working hard.

Just like homeschooling.
Just like housekeeping.
Just like my career.
Just like my relationships.
Just like my faith.

As I write this, I have a problem in my bicep which is relatively serious and is preventing me from even normal activity, let alone lifting weights. I am also having a problem with my ankle.
Now, instead of being depressed that I have to workout, I'm finding it extremely depressing not being able to work out. I'm also finding that I cannot allow myself to be defeated.
I've been sitting on my butt crying about it for a few weeks now.
But the truth is, as I write this, that though my bicep may not be working at the moment, my legs are. I can wiggle my toes. I can always do something. This bicep problem has felt like my undoing but in reality, I just need to assess the situation, develop a strategy, and continue to make progress.
No excuses.

I'm at an age where I'm starting to see that health is not a guarantee. I watched my grandfather and my father in law die of cancer. It was horrific. I am seeing friends and acquaintances who seem perfectly "normal" and healthy have heart attacks. Awful. On a practical level, I don't recover from a long night as quickly. I don't feel as "ready" when I wake up. I worry if my body can handle "one more baby." I'm in my thirties.
If I hadn't done it before, it's definitely time now to take my health seriously. I want to be around for my grandkids!!

In writing this, I realize I have been a little harsh.
I had to be because I am preaching to myself as much as to the rest of you.
Exercise is hard. It is painful.
It is intense. It causes suffering.
But like everything else in parenting and in life, you have to get past the suffering to see the glory. Those who don't even try will never know the sweetness of success. Those who don't make efforts consistently will not see the value of effort in itself. No effort gets no results. There are no excuses for not making an effort. These things are all true--- and only those with great strength to overcome hardships will believe me, because they are the ones who will try.

Don't have that strength? I didn't think I did either.
But you can't be awesome unless you DO something awesome.
There was a day this past winter, where I found myself starting a run at 7:30 in the morning in below freezing weather. I was cold, and I was furious, because my husband had dropped me off and nagged me to death about going even though I hadn't wanted to go. Now here I was, alone in the woods, and I had two hours to kill before he'd be back. If I wasn't going to freeze, I could either run home or run the woods, and since I didn't want to see him, I chose the trail.
I ran because I was cold.
As I ran, I picked up speed.
As I picked up speed, I got hot, and took my sweatshirt off and tied it around my waist.
There was no one on the trail for miles.
Suddenly, I realized there were two figures up ahead.
Embarrassed because I hate running in public, I realized they were two special forces soldiers. (I live in a military town.)
They were also running, and in shorts and tee shirts, despite the weather.
Instead of laughing at me as I had feared they would (I always think people are laughing at me when I run in public) I was surprised to find that they congratulated me. And smiled. One of them told me I was brave. They even looked back at me as if they thought I was attractive.
The thing was, I wasn't brave! And I was certainly NOT attractive.
I hadn't wanted to be there, I was grumpy, I couldn't feel my face, and I was just taking one step in front of the other. I was sweaty and smelled bad. I was wearing frumpy clothes because they were comfortable to run in.
But when I passed them, it hit me.
I may not be strong, or tough, but I was alone on a trail in freezing weather, running, and the only people running with me were SF. I wasn't in shape, I wasn't good at it, but I was just doing it. And I was the only one doing it besides them.

This changed my attitude tremendously. I began to see that those guys didn't get tough because they were just born that way. They had trained themselves there. They had worked tirelessly... in the cold, in the rain, when they were sick, when they were tired.
And it had been worth it, because when I had passed them on the trail, even from a distance I had said to myself: "Uh oh. Those guys are huge. Those guys are tough. Those guys are powerful."

They had never really had my respect just because they walked around with certain badges on their uniform. I see that every day, and it means very little to me.
That day, though, they got my respect because I saw them out running in shorts and teeshirts when I knew it was hard and it was early and it was cold, and it was uncomfortable and it was Saturday morning, and they were getting older,  and it was many other things that made what we were all out there doing DIFFICULT.

Only instead of being frustrating-- it was incredible! I fed right off their energy and ran faster and better after they had passed. I felt awesome.
When I got home, it made me want to do it again the next day. And when I did, and saw another woman on the trail, obviously a mom because she was pushing a jogging stroller and looked like she hadn't slept much.
That day I gave her the same kind of encouragement I had received the day before.
Her whole countenance changed. She knew what she was doing was good, and right.
And worth it. She held her head taller and her stride grew more vibrant.
I have found that God always sends me a little encouragement just when I'm ready to quit, in this same way.

So believe me when I say that I know the struggle. When I walk down the street right now, people don't say to themselves: "Hey, that woman is really in shape!"
But that's not the point. The point is that I know what feels healthier and what feels unhealthy.
I know what helps me and I know what hurts me.
I know, now, what it "was" like and what it "will be like."

Today, before the day goes by, see if you can't just get out there and do it. Even for moms-- ESPECIALLY for moms, exercise is critical.
Catholic wives are called to have babies. Lots of babies.

Drop and do a pushup every time you cross into your kitchen.
Put the baby on the floor next to you and do three sets of 20 situps.
Squat while you do dishes.
Ask your husband to watch the kids for ten minutes and sprint up and down your driveway the whole time.
Don't lie to yourself. An "active lifestyle" is NOT the same as exercise.
You don't need a program.
You don't need a fancy gym in your garage or the perfect diet.
You don't need a husband who gets on your case, or new friends.
You don't need new clothes.
You don't need anything but motivation, a little bit of knowledge,  and the will to do better and be better than you were yesterday.
You aren't competing with anyone but yourself.
It isn't just hard for you. It's hard for everyone.
So, mamas, get out there...

and just. do. it.

To get started, here are 10 tips I've learned along the way.

1. Lift weights, as heavy as you can safely lift them. Get help, at first. This is the number one thing women tend NOT to do, but which yields the best results, hands down. As I have progressed in fitness, I have begun to notice how much time is wasted in exercise endeavors that do nothing for people-- or that do something which could be easily done in a shorter amount of time if they would just add more weight.
2. Pay attention to form. Watch YouTube videos and read articles to learn how to properly do exercises, which muscle groups to work, and how. Injuries are not fun.
3. Have a plan. Stick to it. If you have no idea what you're doing, ask someone you admire for their plan, and follow it for a while.
4. Take a rest day. Vary your routines. Have fun.
5. Alternate abs and cardio. Ideally, do them on an empty stomach first thing in the morning. Weight train at other times during the day.
6. Eat a clean diet as a lifestyle. Having a cheat day can help, at first. Take supplements if they help, but remember that in health, processed food is the enemy.
7. If all you have is 20 minutes, read up on how to do tabatas.
8. Get the whole family involved. Get motivated. Find favorite athletes and read their motivational posts. Participate in fitness events locally and online.
9. Don't be afraid to ask for what you need--- and to take advantage of the time you have. And don't be afraid to make fitness a priority, instead of a back burner activity. I promise you, it will be worth the time you are sure you are "wasting." It will give you the things you are looking for outside of exercise.
10. Don't stop when something comes up, even if that something is a pregnancy. Especially when that something is a pregnancy! Keep moving.

I'm praying for you! Please pray for me. :)

Scripture Sundays- Second Sunday of Lent

Mural at the Church of the Transfiguration, Mt Tabor

Today's Gospel, both in the extraordinary and ordinary form, revolves around the Transfiguration-- the moment when Jesus, The living Word of God, is revealed in all His glory on the mountain, accompanied by two of God's greatest men of faith, Elijah and Moses.

His disciples, who witness the transfiguration, ask to build tabernacles ("tents") for each of them and to remain on the mountain, but God's booming voice speaks to them, directing them to focus on Jesus:

 "This is my beloved Son. Listen to Him." 

And instead of staying,  Jesus leads them down again, into the valley and onto the Passion.

It is a moment of comfort for them, as they have just learned about the necessary passion of Our Lord and are concerned about the future. But it is also a moment of confusion-- what does the Resurrection mean?

This passage from Divine Intimacy about the Transfiguration perfectly describes the relevance of the scene.

Father Gabriel of St Mary Magdalen, OCD, writes:

"Glory is the fruit of grace: the grace possessed by Jesus in an infinite degree is reflected in an infinite glory transfiguring Him entirely. Something similar happens to us: grace will transform us "from glory to glory.""(2 Cor 3, 18) until one day it will bring us to the Beatific Vision of God in heaven. But while grace transfigures, sin, on the other hand, darkens and disfigures whoever becomes its victim. Today's Gospel brings out the close connection between the Transfiguration and the Passion of Jesus."

There is no glory without suffering. The scene makes this very clear. But the key to this passage involves the clue we are given at the very end. Peter who-- in ecstasy before this glorious vision-- begins by saying: "Lord, it is good for us to be here," asks to build three tents for them to stay. God does not allow him to stay. Instead, he removes Elijah and Moses and stands Jesus alone in front of Peter, saying: "Listen to Him."

It is only in Listening to Jesus, communing with Jesus, spending time with Jesus, and literally following Jesus that we will be given that vision again. In other words, a spiritual consolation is not for us to cling to, request, or desire. Although it is nothing short of glorious and we should enjoy it, it is built for our encouragement, not our enjoyment. It is built for our strengthening.

As mothers and wives we experience moments of glory--- successes and beautiful, "perfect" days. But if you're anything like me, those days are few and far between. The average experience of the wife and mother includes the days you forget to wash your husband's work uniform, the day your two year old learns the word "no," the day you accidentally wash the rocks and pens in your sons' pockets and break the washing machine, the day your in-laws make comments about their concerns about homeschooling, and the day your husband has a rough day at work and comes home in a bad mood. 

This is the stuff of ordinary life, and this is the suffering by which we are sanctified. It is good and well to ask for those "perfect" days.... but we do not get there alone. Even more, importantly, many of us can work our way to the top of the mountain and realize that there is nothing there but a view! If we do not go up the mountain when Jesus leads and come down from the mountain when Jesus leads, we have missed the point. Our character is not formed in our own transfiguration moments, but in them our hope is born and cultivated. Our character is formed when we turn from sin and embrace the Cross, patiently offering up our suffering and keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus who will teach us what He wants in it.

Carmelite Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (St Edith Stein) said: "Hail to the Cross, Our only Hope."

In this season of lent, embrace each difficult moment of life and pray:

"Dear Jesus, am I listening to You as You taught me in the transfiguration? Teach me to embrace the cross and my own journey through the valley so that when You give me a vision of Your Glory I not only receive encouragement from it, but I recognize in it that it comes only from following You on the difficult path of Your Passion!"

Without death there is no life-- without the cross, no resurrection. When tough times come, may we all respond in faith: "Lord, it is good for us to be here," exactly as Peter said on the mountain.


TODAY'S READINGS:

Reading 1 Gn 22:1-2, 9a, 10-13, 15-18
God put Abraham to the test.
He called to him, "Abraham!"
"Here I am!" he replied.
Then God said:
"Take your son Isaac, your only one, whom you love,
and go to the land of Moriah.
There you shall offer him up as a holocaust
on a height that I will point out to you."

When they came to the place of which God had told him,
Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it.
Then he reached out and took the knife to slaughter his son.
But the LORD's messenger called to him from heaven,
"Abraham, Abraham!"
"Here I am!" he answered.
"Do not lay your hand on the boy," said the messenger.
"Do not do the least thing to him.
I know now how devoted you are to God,
since you did not withhold from me your own beloved son."
As Abraham looked about,
he spied a ram caught by its horns in the thicket.
So he went and took the ram
and offered it up as a holocaust in place of his son.

Again the LORD's messenger called to Abraham from heaven and said:
"I swear by myself, declares the LORD,
that because you acted as you did
in not withholding from me your beloved son,
I will bless you abundantly
and make your descendants as countless
as the stars of the sky and the sands of the seashore;
your descendants shall take possession
of the gates of their enemies,
and in your descendants all the nations of the earth
shall find blessing-
all this because you obeyed my command."


Responsorial Psalm Ps 116:10, 15, 16-17, 18-19
R. (116:9) I will walk before the Lord, in the land of the living.
I believed, even when I said,
"I am greatly afflicted."
Precious in the eyes of the LORD
is the death of his faithful ones.
R. I will walk before the Lord, in the land of the living.
O LORD, I am your servant;
I am your servant, the son of your handmaid;
you have loosed my bonds.
To you will I offer sacrifice of thanksgiving,
and I will call upon the name of the LORD.
R. I will walk before the Lord, in the land of the living.
My vows to the LORD I will pay
in the presence of all his people,
In the courts of the house of the LORD,
in your midst, O Jerusalem.
R. I will walk before the Lord, in the land of the living.

Reading 2 Rom 8:31b-34
Brothers and sisters:
If God is for us, who can be against us?
He who did not spare his own Son
but handed him over for us all,
how will he not also give us everything else along with him?

Who will bring a charge against God's chosen ones?
It is God who acquits us, who will condemn?
Christ Jesus it is who died-or, rather, was raised-
who also is at the right hand of God,
who indeed intercedes for us.


Gospel Mk 9:2-10
Jesus took Peter, James, and John
and led them up a high mountain apart by themselves.
And he was transfigured before them,
and his clothes became dazzling white,
such as no fuller on earth could bleach them.
Then Elijah appeared to them along with Moses,
and they were conversing with Jesus.
Then Peter said to Jesus in reply,
"Rabbi, it is good that we are here!
Let us make three tents:
one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah."
He hardly knew what to say, they were so terrified.
Then a cloud came, casting a shadow over them;
from the cloud came a voice,
"This is my beloved Son. Listen to him."
Suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone
but Jesus alone with them.

As they were coming down from the mountain,
he charged them not to relate what they had seen to anyone,
except when the Son of Man had risen from the dead.
So they kept the matter to themselves,
questioning what rising from the dead meant.

Embracing motherhood when work pays off

Six years ago, I suffered and suffered, and suffered, and suffered, and suffered, and suffered.....  when it was time for church.
To put it bluntly, I couldn't deal with my kids and listen/pay attention at the same time. I loved God, loved church and wanted to take in every moment... which is really hard to do if you spend every second of it shushing, re-arranging, and bringing kids in and out of the church. Quite honestly, I resented kids altogether because Catholic churches are very open to children and the majority of children around us in mass were very poorly behaved, so even when I COULD go by myself, some other person's kids would always wreck the "experience" for me. Sounds so selfish when I say it that way but that's exactly how it was, for years. All I wanted was for everyone to just shut up so I could pay attention and hear what I needed to get me through the week.

I  was accustomed to seeing and experiencing this and wanted nothing to do with any of it:

I knew that there was something else out there I could set as a goal. We've all seen the family that looks like this, disciplined and orderly, and I wanted it. But it seemed impossible, because even if I managed to get them in line by some miracle, there was always some other child  (OR PARENT!) nearby to distract them. I felt hopeless to ever get here:

(Ironically, these are my kids and the children of some dear friends. ;) a few years later, of course!)

If we went to a church that had childcare, I was ecstatic, if we didn't, I was miserable. Everything was a battle. Sundays became a nightmare. A nightmare I wanted to end.... so I could selfishly sit and soak in the good feelings I got from being able to pay attention and ignore the fact that God had given me children to train and teach.

Over the years, I came to understand that God wanted me to train my little ones to listen and pay attention at church and to participate themselves, etc. It started with a guilty feeling whenever I would drop them off at the nursery, and only got worse with time. I remember distinctly the day I figured out that it was worth the effort to keep them with me.
Standing in the back with a wiggling, loud toddler while teetering on my heels, certain that I was annoying everyone present, I looked up to heaven with tears in my eyes and my gaze crossed a sign, put there by the priest, that said: "Dear kids, I'm glad you're here. --- God." I determined then and there to suck it up and do what it took to make sure my kids learned to be the kinds of children who could sit quietly in their pews and listen attentively. Not for ME. But for the good of their souls. And to acknowledge that it would take time, diligence,  and patience, neither of which I really had.

Now, many years later, on most days-- MOST days--- My husband and I (and the people around us) enjoy having them with us and we are amazed at how much of it they get themselves and appreciate. They even like it and look forward to going!
There are still days that are rough, but nowadays they are the exception, and not the norm. Instead, it's a powerful family bonding time and even better... they have really learned to overcome a lot and draw close to God through these experiences. It's beautiful. Sure, my son still sleeps through half of mass on my shoulder and my daughters still fight over who can sit closer to me. But at least now they do it before mass starts or right at the end,  and they know better than to keep it up through the whole thing.

Now, we go to a Maronite liturgy. Qurbono is somewhere between a Latin Mass and a typical Novus Ordo in that there is much chanting, different languages, and reverence, but it's still fairly child-friendly in the sense that they aren't necessarily expected to be dead silent and prayerful through the whole thing. There are also a lot of parts and responses for them to get into, including the priest "breaking character" from time to time to catechize during the mass, which keeps them occupied.

I had reached the point up until yesterday where I felt confident that we could handle most any Novus Ordo without too much distraction and where my kids had become enjoyable and had reached a level of understanding of what was happening in the mass that comforted us. My youngest is two and at that age where it's a battle no matter what, but she's a really good two year old compared to what she could be at. So I have confidence in my kids.... but I never imagined my kids were ready for the Latin Mass.

That's why I wanted to share this glory-of-motherhood moment I had yesterday... to encourage the moms who are still at the "tearing my hair out" stage of parenting littles in the pews. Been there! Not sure I'm out of the woods yet, but yesterday was certainly a powerful moment in which I felt we had "arrived."

Yesterday, you see, we went to the closest Latin Mass, which, for my protestant friends,  is the "old form" of our liturgical worship, before the revisions when the people had a more verbal and physical "part to play" in the mass. This particular mass is about a forty minute drive away and is right at lunch/naptime, a very difficult time to have children sit still as you mothers well know.

The Latin mass is in Latin, a language they don't really understand.
It is very quiet, and contains tons of kneeling for hours and lots of silence. Going to the ordinary form of the mass is hard enough for most people I know, but the Latin Mass is like, a whole different animal. Which is why many people avoid it... it's too "sacred" or "somber" for their taste. Not relaxed and "open" enough.

Usually, the mothers I see there have two pews full of meticulously dressed, perfectly behaved children of all age ranges who, even at 3, are kneeling for hours uncomplainingly and just generally awesomely behaved, even when daddy isn't around.  These mothers amaze me. I watch them carefully when I see them, and I wish I could follow them around at home and learn their secrets. I can't, though, because they usually keep to themselves and don't get out for coffee much. ;)
They also intimidate me, because I can hardly handle my small handful of kids, and here they are with twelve or fourteen and they seem to have everything under control.

So Latin Mass is very intimidating for mothers with kids who aren't used to that kind of environment, and I admit I dreaded bringing my littles, even though I LOVE going to Latin mass on my own and go there as much as I can-- without them!

However, my husband decided yesterday that we were heading over there,  and I was freaking out. But I'm so pleased and grateful to report that after all these years, something must have clicked, and they appear to have really settled down.

Immediately after the rosary, we found ourselves in a silent church. And I started freaking out.
A younger man came forward and stood next to the pew in front of us. One by one, in a row, all six of his children, girls in matching dresses and veils and boys in matching sweaters and cords, came forward and sat in the pew. Last in line was his wife, modestly dressed and beautifully veiled. She took her place next to him and they all knelt to pray before the mass in unison. My heart started pounding... and I started the comparing in my head.
She and her husband were very united in their approach, and they operated as one entity... when one of the younger kids started to act up they wordlessly took turns getting the others settled down and fixing the problem. I was both amazed and disappointed, watching them. I couldn't imagine myself being the kind of disciplined person it took to take the time to TEACH all these kids how to act right.
Not only that, but she seemed totally rested and was really beautiful and in good shape! And her husband and her were clearly very bonded. I was sure that there was just no way in the word that my family even came close to comparing to theirs... and even though I knew it was stupid to bother comparing, I also knew that if we didn't, it was because of a lack of discipline and willingness to suffer for each other on OUR part, which made me feel like double the failure.

Incredibly, though, my kids were as well-behaved as any of the children there. My daughters chose on their own to wear headcoverings and didn't spend the whole time messing with them, everybody was pleasant and reverent and totally into it, and when it was over my kids asked if we could go again and ASKED TO STAY LONGER TO PRAY. I couldn't get over it. OTHER moms there were smiling approvingly at me and telling me how sweet and well behaved the children were. I was in shock. I was floating on a cloud. It was amazing.

This might sound silly, but it felt like a landmark to me--- we've finally graduated to Latin-mass standards as a family and that means that all that hard work training the kiddos has really, really paid off.... so keep on training those kiddos! Took me six years to figure out HOW, but here we are, and it's a really rewarding place to be!

I never for one second imagined that I could actually find myself at a Latin mass with my whole family and enjoy the experience tremendously. And yet--- it was wonderful, and we fit right in.
Praise God!! It was a very exciting motherhood moment for me, and I know my husband was very, very pleased since he had been as worried as I was about their behavior and "fitting in" with the other families.
Don't get me wrong, there is still much work to do-- my son talked to Jesus out loud half the Introit and asked about two thousand questions about what was happening, and my two year old was as determined as she's ever been to borrow my husband's latin flashcards and play with them despite the fact that we repeatedly told her no. But even in that, I could tell we were doing ok, and even more than that-- doing well!

You may ask yourselves, reading this, WHY it matters so much to me that they learn these skills. I've heard people see Latin Mass families like these and say all sorts of terrible things about how much they must beat their children or how bored and suppressed their children are. But knowing some of these families outside of mass, has given me a different outlook-- these are happy, balanced, and thoroughly creative and interesting kiddos who are not being suppressed in any way. They are thoughtful and interesting and loving. And their parents are loving and kind, not harsh or mean. They are simply parents who are doing it right, focusing hard on work and prayer, and that's why I was so grateful to receive this confirmation yesterday that we are somehow, some way, by some miracle, on the right track. It's so motivating.... I can't wait to see where we are ten years from now! Motherhood is an awesome journey.

What are some things I've learned over the years that have really helped for kids in church? Here are ten tips that have really paid off:

1. Leave the toys, books, etc at home. Even one tiny stuffed animal can be a HUGE distraction, so we try to just leave everything at home and out of the pews.
2. Children copy what they see. If you are very focused, your kids will be focused. They do what they see you doing.
3. No food or drinks. This should be a given, but I see lots of moms feeding their kids or giving them cups to sip. Unless they are still milk-fed, they are old enough to go without for an hour.
4. Make sure they are fed and rested when you get there.
5. Try to alternate older kids and younger kids. If you can avoid putting two very young kids right next to each other, it's a good idea.
6. Sit in the front, and make sure they can see. Talk about what they will see on the way there and back.
7. Make it a routine. Get to mass as often as possible so they become accustomed to it.
8. Require them to participate at their age level. They may not know the responses or prayers yet, but they can stand with everyone else and be a part of what's going on. Encourage older kids to help the younger kids get involved and stay quiet.
9. Let them get to know and love their priests.
10. Watch who you associate with... being around other families with well-behaved kids will make all the difference!

A mother's mission.

Words from the Holy Father for us today:

The Church, in other words, must constantly rededicate herself to her mission. The three Synoptic Gospels highlight various aspects of the missionary task. The mission is built upon personal experience: "You are witnesses" (Lk 24:48); it finds expression in relationships: "Make disciples of all nations" (Mt 28:19); and it spreads a universal message: "Preach the Gospel to the whole creation" (Mk 16:15). Through the demands and constraints of the world, however, the witness is constantly obscured, the relationships are alienated and the message is relativized. If the Church, in Pope Paul VI’s words, is now struggling "to model itself on Christ's ideal", this "can only result in its acting and thinking quite differently from the world around it, which it is nevertheless striving to influence" (Ecclesiam Suam, 58). In order to accomplish her mission, she will constantly set herself apart from her surroundings, she needs in a certain sense to become unworldly or "desecularized".

I think this applies especially well to us mothers: Our three-pronged mission is so clear:

"You are witnesses" (Lk 24:48)

Every time we walk down the street and hear someone say to us: "I don't know how you do it. I couldn't." or "Wow, you have your hands full!" We are witnesses. Large families are witnesses of faith. Well-behaved, orderly, peaceful, joyful families are witnesses. Every time we decline a coffee date or a day at the pre-school or daycare for our children. We are witnesses. Every time we refuse to badmouth our husbands, every time we smile when we should scream..... we are witnesses.

"Make disciples of all nations" (Mt 28:19)

We are in the business of disciple-making. We have no greater disciples than those who come under our spiritual, material, and physical care at infancy. We have their full attention.

"Preach the Gospel to the whole creation" (Mk 16:15)

First, we are doing this by responding faithfully to our vocations. But more importantly, it is ONLY by responding faithfully to our particular calling, our particular "post" that we can preach to all creation. We are but one person-- but if each person did exactly what their job was, we would cover the whole planet. Assume command of your post. As a good soldier of Christ Jesus, defend your area, so your sisters and brothers can do their job. 

The word "preach" has a particularly vocal aspect. We are called to SPEAK the Gospel-- to speak words of life. If only we understood, especially as mothers, the Kingdom-building power of the tongue.

The Holy Father says that it is only by rejecting the world's values and ideas that we can accomplish our mission effectively. What are two basic ways we can check if we are doing that?

1. Cast down your idols. What are they? Things which receive worship from you that is due God alone.

2. Look for the fruit of a life lived in the Spirit. Do you have it? (Hint Galatians 5:22-23)

The Holy Father said: 

One could almost say that history comes to the aid of the Church here through the various periods of secularization, which have contributed significantly to her purification and inner reform.
Secularizing trends – whether by expropriation of Church goods, or elimination of privileges or the like – have always meant a profound liberation of the Church from forms of worldliness, for in the process she has set aside her worldly wealth and has once again completely embraced her worldly poverty.
In this the Church has shared the destiny of the tribe of Levi, which according to the Old Testament account was the only tribe in Israel with no ancestral land of its own, taking as its portion only God himself, his word and his signs. At those moments in history, the Church shared with that tribe the demands of a poverty that was open to the world, in order to be released from her material ties: and in this way her missionary activity regained credibility.
History has shown that, when the Church becomes less worldly, her missionary witness shines more brightly. Once liberated from her material and political burdens, the Church can reach out more effectively and in a truly Christian way to the whole world, she can be truly open to the world. She can live more freely her vocation to the ministry of divine worship and service of neighbour.

In other words, it is when it is most difficult to live in a manner that is "set-apart"-- when we feel most "different" and "alone" that we can make the largest impact and have the greatest effect. Remember that the path to glory comes necessarily through the path to the Cross.

Mothers, it is almost--- ALMOST --- impossible to be a Christian mother today. We are hemmed in on all sides, surrounded. Rejoice! It is a period of great grace and great growth in the body of Christ.

Mama Mondays- helpful tips for pregnancy

I promised to write a blog for first time mothers to help them with any tips or ideas I have acquired over the course of my pregnancies. There is SO. MUCH. information out there, and anyone who does a little research can gain a pretty good grasp of what their body is going through, and what will happen.

I remember when I was going through my first pregnancy, which was high risk and in which I had a severe complication, I kept wanting to talk to my mom about all of it because I had never realized before what she had been through and done for me. And in the course of those conversations, my mom always marveled at the awareness that I had of my own body and of it's workings.... an awareness I inherited from years of dance class and hours on google. :D

She told me that for her, pregnancy just happened, and she didn't ask herself a lot of questions because she was busy with life and there just wasn't that much information out there. Just enough to get her throught it. I've since often thought that it probable served her nicely not to have such an abundance of information at her fingertips when she was going through it. Her pregnancies were probably very peaceful and calm because of the lack of anxiety that over-informing ourselves can bring.

Especially since all of the "givens" we learn in American motherhood about birth and infancy are completely different from the "givens" we learn as mothers in Japan, or France, or Sweden. Different cultures do things in different ways, and the over-abundance of internet opinions can make these very confusing times for women doing something that-- when we think about it-- is both completely natural and completely ordinary, extraordinary as it is.

Nowadays, pregnant women are BOMBARDED with not only information but opinions... opinions about diet, exercise, relaxation, communication between spouses, and everything else.

Increasingly, men are not only told how to respond but trained for bedside labor assistance, moment-by-moment attention to their spouse during the pregnancy experience, and all sorts of things which, until recently, were simply not their domain. It has truly become a woman's world.... but is that a good thing?

The de-masculinization of men has created a culture in which men simply are not free to do the things they are good at. Instead of utilizing their problem solving/big picture/vision skills, they are so drained from dealing with all the tiny, mundane, administrative details of life that they are incapable of leading/ guiding. At least, that's the way it looks from this house.... where things are different.

We think it is a detrimental element of our culture that a pregnancy in a house means that a woman must have ice cream on demand, be preserved from dish-doing, floor-cleaning, or meal-making, and be entitled to parenting-from-a-distance.

At the same time, we don't believe that men (and other women) should lose sight of how challenging pregnancy is and just how severe it's toll is on women. All things in moderation. I'm not advocating that men NOT be there at the birth, or not help around the house, I'm saying that life happens. If your man is gone, well, there have been millions of women who have gone before, gone on to have perfectly healthy children and marriages in which the husband wasn't present at the birth of his child. There is no such thing as "an ideal birth," only a birth that happens the way it is supposed to in your family. Make the best of your situation, pray very much, and avoid selfishness and self-centeredness or excessive focus on the experience, rather than focusing on the purpose. Kinda like what you probably DIDN'T do in your wedding.... if you are anything like the majority of American women. Avoid excesses, unless they be excesses of kindness and charity.

It is good to be courteous, compassionate, considerate of the life-making going on inside the womb. It is good to offer help, pay close attention to a woman's limits, and to serve her in whatever capacity we can. It is terrible to demand service and compassion from others, to expect assistance, and to be lazy, selfish, and arrogant. I am quite certain that it is a worse offense to UNDERdo it than to OVERdo it in pregnancy.... because most of us don't even come CLOSE to overdoing it, high risk pregnancies and all.

When I see women who essentially throw up their hands and say: "I can't, I'm pregnant" to virtually every menial daily task, while sitting on their butts watching A Birth Story for twelve hours a day (with a few breaks on google to study up on placenta encapsulation and labor positions) I am disappointed. I'm disappointed for their husbands, who are selflessly making the best of their situation and doing what they think is right by giving waaaay more than their fair share of the "work." I suspect there will be many more MEN from our generation than women in heaven.

I know it is the product of the Satanic attack on families, to create this culture of laziness in pregnant women, because it damages the woman's sense of self.. alongside the human dignity of the child and husband.

You see, in our society, pregnancy has become an idol. And I watch people worship The Pregnant Woman.... making sacrifice after sacrifice for her and to her. The Woman who takes the role of the worshipped becomes so very comfortable--thoroughly willing to take on the physical pain of pregnancy with joy and delight because she is made the center of all things. Our society (materialistic and cultish in nature) extolls the virtues of the pregnant woman and makes her think it's all about Me, Me, glowing and beautiful ME!

But then when the baby is born, the baby becomes an accessory, an object of gratification, and an emotional crutch (isn't it nice to be needed/wanted all the time?) and the woman is mostly forgotten. We drop the preggo idol and move on to the infant idol... and that in itself is disturbing. Babies used to need a bed, a few blankets, and some cloth diapers. Nowadays the insane amount of "baby gear" that is considered a must-have for a phase which lasts under a year is truly.... mind boggling. And expensive... and stressful. Women go from focusing totally and completely (and having their husbands focus) on themselves, to focusing completely and totally on the desires and comfort of this new little baby. On the outside , this seems... nice. But what I'm getting at is that the attention on materialism and emotional soothing is disproportionate to the attention on work, service and sacrifice that was, and should be, the majority of the Family Culture. There are people out there who are literally having only one child, even though they can "afford" many by even wordly standards, because they don't want to psychologically damage the child they do have by focusing on another little baby. they think it is unfair, or takes away from that child, when the reality is that pregnancy and children are a gift because they teach us not to be selfish!

Personally, I admit I have a hard time understanding women who spend a great deal of time off their feet lying around because they are pregnant (I'm talking about a REGULAR pregnancy, not a pregnancy which requires bedrest.) To me, pregnancy is not an excuse for negligence in the homestead, especially since we have made so much "medical progress" and we are so capable of solving so many pregnancy difficulties. Historically, women have coped with pregnancy in much more difficult situations and been absolutely capable of dealing. There were often no husbands for long periods of time to help around the house. Now, granted, there were many other factors in favor of the pregnant woman, who was still in a considerably weakened condition-- back then , children were raised to actually HELP around the house as opposed to being draining "needers." It is also a given that there is a moderate, middle ground place, where a pregnant woman should be left to put her feet up when she needs it and after she has completely the menial tasks required of her in every day life.

Hyper awareness of our bodies and the way we feel, combined with pseudo-knowledge about the pregnancy condition, has not done much for our sainthood.... look at Saint Gianna, who was a doctor and a mother, and who made the difficult choice to give her own life for the life of her baby. That's how she became a saint.. not by requesting that her husband water the garden for her, stay up with the sick toddler, and pick up some Ben and Jerry's on his way home from work. He may have done those things, and that is wonderful. But she would neither have expected them nor desired them. She would have desired work.
Please understand, if you are reading this and feel "judged" by this article, that I am not judging YOU. I don't know your particulars, your situation, what your doctor said or didn't say. I don't know your husbands, your arrangements, and your ideals. What I do know is that if you felt your conscience "pricked" by this reading, perhaps you recognize that you may have taken advantage of your pregnancy-- or worse (and more likely) been duped by the enemy with regards to your own personal growth and the good of your family. Or perhaps I'm dead wrong, and you can feel free to tell me so. It wouldn't be the first time. These are just things I have observed over the course of my own pregnancies and in dialogue with other mothers around the internet. Meditating on them has really helped me to overcome the majority of what I would call my average "motherhood and pregnancy gripes." (which were numerous.) 

And if it's not to be believed because you heard it from me, consider that Pope John Paul II said the following:
The great danger for family life, in the midst of any society whose idols are pleasure, comfort and independence, lies in the fact that people close their hearts and become selfish.

I know I need daily reminding of that fact. Come, Holy Spirit!

That being said..... here are some of my "DO" tips for pregnancy.


- Meditate on the spiritual value of your pregnancy and eventual motherhood.

-Pray very much for the strength you need to get through it.

-Consider that the end result of this pregnancy is not that you will have a baby to hold (even though that is a side effect that will bring you great joy!) Instead, think about the fact that this growing infant will one day be an adult who will answer to God (and for whom YOU will answer.) Plan accordingly.

-Be gentle with yourself. Pay attention to your body and know when to stop.

-Be firm with yourself. Decide what you can reasonably do and then do it. No need to be superwoman, but you still need to be making progress.

-Eat moderately. There is no reason to eat excessively.... the "extra" calories you need can be found in a glass of milk and a peanut butter sandwhich.

-get plenty of exercise. I particularly recommend certain yoga positions which will assist with back pain and sciatica (I will do a post on these soon.) Do spend a significant amount of time paying attention to your posture.

-drink water.

-Breathe, and be nice. Hormones RAGE during pregnancy, which makes people totally freak out. If you think the world is ending, you are done, you are furious.... it's probably hormones. Relax.

-Get enough sleep. Discipline yourself so that you sleep as much as you can, but don't over-indulge either by shirking your motherly duties towards your other children if there are some.

-Don't take drugs. American doctors are quick to prescribe "harmless" drugs for all of the uncomfortable side effects of pregnancy. These "harmless" drugs are anything but harmless. Stick to well-known herbal remedies and natural solutions as much as possible. Avoid antibiotics like the plague.

-Everyone gets BV. Use plain yogurt, don't take drugs. Don't be embarrassed.

-Take your prenatals. Every day. WITH lots of water.

-Don't believe it just because everyone is doing it. Don't believe it just because you read it on the internet.

-No, you don't really NEED that (_____________________).

-Learn the Bradley method. But don't feel bad about wanting an epidural.

-If you fear labor, understand this simple idea: labor feels like terrible, awful, really bad period cramps which come and go at a faster and longer rate, followed by the feeling of taking a giant poop from your vagina. True story. In that same feels good-slash-hurts kind of way. You CAN do it. Your body is made for it. And you might even learn to enjoy it if you do it often enough. I apologize if this was awful for you to read, but hearing this information really made me understand and work with my own labor better. It removed the fear I had, which is the biggest labor problem. Fear prevents relaxation, and relaxation is the only solution. So relax. We've all pooped before.

-Breastfeed immediately or right after if you can. If you can not, do not panic. Just keep trying.

-Enlist the prayers and help of a good friend or two and have a doula if you can.

-Remember that, like everything else, this too, shall pass. So be thankful, and do what you're supposed to. Every moment.

Saints on Saturdays- Saints who were mothers

St Gianna, pray for us!

Here is a compiled list of saints who were mothers. Take some time to look them up one day or over several days, and learn from them what they knew to get themselves and their families into heaven.

Blessed Angela of Foligno
Blessed Anna Rosa Gattorno
Blessed Anne Marie Taigi
Blessed Antonia of Florence
Blessed Dorothy of Montau
Blessed Émilie d'Oultremont d'Hoogvorst
Blessed Eurosia Fabris
Blessed Helen of Poland
Blessed Ivetta of Huy
Blessed Margaret Pole
Blessed Marie of the Incarnation Guyart
Blessed Marie-Azélie Guérin Martin
Blessed Michelina of Pesaro
Blessed Santucci Terrebotti
Blessed Victoria Strata
Blessed Virgin Mary
Eve the Matriarch
Rachel the Matriarch
Ruth the Matriarch
Saint Adela of Pfalzel
Saint Adeltrude of Aurillac
Saint Aelia Flaccilla
Saint Agia
Saint Amalburga
Saint Amunia
Saint Anne
Saint Bathilde
Saint Begga of Ardenne
Saint Bridget of Sweden
Saint Candida of Bañoles
Saint Candida of Naples
Saint Candida of Rome
Saint Candida the Younger
Saint Cecilia Yu Sosa
Saint Clotilde
Saint Crispina
Saint Darerca
Saint Dionysia the Martyr
Saint Ebbe of Minster-in-Thanet
Saint Elizabeth
Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton
Saint Elizabeth of Hungary
Saint Elizabeth of Portugal
Saint Ermenilda of Ely
Saint Felicity of Rome
Saint Frances of Rome
Saint Gianna Beretta Molla
Saint Gladys
Saint Gorgonia
Saint Gwen
Saint Hedwig of Andechs
Saint Helena
Saint Hereswitha
Saint Hilaria the Martyr
Saint Hildegund
Saint Humility
Saint Ida of Boulogne
Saint Ida of Herzfeld
Saint Ida of Nivelles
Saint Jacoba
Saint Jeanne de Chantal
Saint Jeanne de Lestonnac
Saint Judith of Prussia
Saint Ludmila
Saint Macrina the Elder
Saint Margaret Clitherow
Saint Margaret of Cortona
Saint Margaret of Scotland
Saint Monica
Saint Natalia
Saint Non
Saint Nonna
Saint Olga of Kiev
Saint Osith
Saint Patientia of Loret
Saint Patricia of Nicomedia
Saint Paula of Rome
Saint Perpetua
Saint Plautilla of Rome
Saint Priscilla of Rome
Saint Publia
Saint Richrudis of Marchiennes
Saint Rita of Cascia
Saint Sadalberga
Saint Saxburgh of Ely
Saint Sigrada
Saint Silvia of Rome
Saint Sophia
Saint Theopistes of Rome
Saint Valeria of Milan
Saint Waltrude
Saint Wastrada
Saint Wilfrida
Saint Zedislava Berka
Saint Zoe of Pamphylia
Sarah the Matriarch
Venerable Margaret Bosco

Annika's Prayer (4 years old)

Annika, 4, is sitting by me praying, Bible in hand. Here is an exact rendering of her prayer:


Dear Lord,

Help them to follow you, the Shepherd. Love your priests and us.
We need your Holy Spirit to be like a dove or a tongue of fire over us.
Jesus, give me your heart and make mine pink and not black and full of love. Fill me with your Lord so that I shine like a star and make other people shiny and sparkly.
Thank you for my blessings and for my crosses, thank you for your dying on the Cross for my sins. I want to put roses at your feet.
This is your eucharist in your saints.
Take the people in the world out of the darkness. Help me to obey and be good. Give us food.
Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary. Crush the snake on the head.
Amen. Thank you priest.


Children are incredible.

Monday's motherhood moment

In this case, I think actions speak louder than words. So here are some of the children at the latest Clan gathering:



Angela titled this, appropriately, "must be doing something right." May it be so, Lord! Theres nothing more amazing than seeing our little ones on their knees before You.