Every Sacrifice

So I had "Heavenwards, Always", by Kathy Kanewske, playing in the background today as we were getting ready for nap time. My daughter and I were reading one of her stories, when she suddenly started whispering something rhythmically under her breath. I paused to listen.

"Every sacrifice and trial we face fills our treasury with your good grace."

Joy moment!

I tried singing along with her. She said, very emphatically, "No mommy can sing," and went right back on singing along. I just sat and listened to her for a few moments, completely in awe of how much she soaks in, and how much of what soaks in she is able to make her own.

And that one line, repeating over and over, brought back to my mind what has been floating around since Lent began, about sacrifice and how to teach love and service to our little ones. Even though she is not understanding every aspect of everything we say or do, I know these moments are somehow being etched into her person. She is being formed by what she sees and hears and participates in.

But developmentally things are tricky. We're smack dab in the middle of the "mine" stage and the "no" stage. Though these days those two words aren't heard as much, the stage shows in her actions. The baby brother, who is cruising now, often has his hands picked up and pushed off of whatever furniture he adheres himself to, resulting in the dampened thud of cloth diapered bum hitting wood floor. Or there is the "no J can touch this" accompanied by a swift shove, push, head butt, or really any effective form of two-year-old force. I'm realizing more and more that how I respond in these situations will also in some ways form who she becomes, and who the baby becomes. And I can tell you that however I react doesn't seem to be having the desired effect for anyone.

There is only so much separating one can do. Only so much distraction, so much reasoning. The time-outs are rule of law now, and the situation is escalating. It is such a struggle coming up with good solutions, communicating them effectively, and remaining consistent in the limits and consequences. And this seems like such a common parenting concern!

Phew! Parenting is tiring. But in a good way. Because one minute you're about to lose your cool (or do!), and the next their singing to you, or playing [gnawing on] ball with each other, or actually "good nice sharing." And every sacrifice and trial we face fills the treasury of grace.

Feast Week

While our Lenten sacrifices usually take precedence over more celebratory days, two days this past week deserved a little more festivity than the rest.

Thursday was the Memorial of St. Patrick of Ireland. We celebrated in true Irish form...or as close as I, an American, could muster. I cured my own pork for a bacon boil with cabbage, and made a delicious brown bread and champ on the side. We started with a toast  of Irish Mist to St. Patrick and to Ireland, and finished with maybe a not so traditional dessert--shortbread shamrocks dipped in milk chocolate.

We got to the end of the evening, after the kids were in bed, and I realized I had done all these things to bring Ireland into our home, but had completely forgotten to come up with some prayers to commemorate the day! Dropped ball. I turned it somewhat secular even without the green beer and leprechauns! Next year. One step at a time!

And you may be wondering how I could have pulled all this off with two under two. I had lots of help. My dear sister-in-law was here and lent both hands, helping with the kids and with the preparations. Thanks Ciocia!

The other feast is today. It is the Solemnity of St. Joseph, husband of Mary. We're celebrating today in a scaled down version of the Sicilian-American celebration of New Orleans. Breads, cookies, wine, pasta, stuffed artichokes. It is going to be fun! 

I've set up an altar similar to those built in parishes and homes all around New Orleans. Normally they are extravagant altars, many tiers in height, with statues, icons, breads and cookies in shapes symbolizing St. Joseph and the Holy Family. Here is our attempt:

We have breads in the shape of a staff, cross, and monstrance. We have cookies and flowers, statues and vino, all to celebrate St. Joseph and his intercession for us.

Why such celebration? Well, the story goes that in the middle ages Sicily went through a tragic famine. The people prayed to St. Joseph, and the famine ceased. In thanksgiving they built these altars with food from the harvest. St. Joseph became the patron saint of Sicily. Emigrants brought these traditions with them to New Orleans, and though I am not aware of any kind of Italian or Mediterranean blood in my veins, as the daughter of a New Orleanian, I feel it is my duty to pass on this aspect of my culture and heritage. Our kids are going to be very confused by all these cultural traditions. That or very proud of their heritage.

And if I have confused my history, please comment with the correct one! 

I just wanted to share our celebrations with you! Pray a little prayer to St. Joseph today, for all the Josephs and fathers in your life!

"Animated with love"

Last night at night prayer we introduced our two-year-old to the crown of thorns. Two-year-olds amaze me. Two years ago our daughter was only six days old, and now, now she's worried about Jesus. John showed our daughter the paper crown of thorns and explained to her about the "owie crown" and told her that it scratched Jesus head. Then he took our crucifix off the wall to show her that Jesus was wearing the owie crown on the cross. He then showed her the heart stickers we had on hand to use until we procured the flowers. The little lady got a very concerned look on her face and said, "Put happy sticker on Jesus head." We tried to get her to put it on the paper crown, but she was determined. Jesus had an owie on his head, and she was going to make it better with a happy sticker (our term for band aid). John tenderly placed the heart sticker on the cross. This still wasn't enough for my empathetic little girl.

The cross on our wall is a unity cross. It depicts Mary at the foot of Jesus collecting blood from his spear-pierce side into a chalice. Little one apparently thought that Mary was hurt, too. I tried to explain to her that only Jesus had the owie crown on. Silly me, so task oriented these days. John says, "Well, Mary's heart hurts because her son's head hurts. So let's put this sticker on her heart."

Unity cross

Who is to know if this is what she understood when she asked to put the sticker on Mary. Or if she thought that the whole cross had an owie. But how profound the thought was. Made even more profound to me that I was reminded of it in a simple exercise by a two-year-old. As a mother I can now understand a little bit what Mary must have been going through that day.  Even more so because I want to believe that my daughter did think that Mary's heart hurt, too. And that made me glad.

Later I was reading from Pope John Paul II's Familiaris Consortio (pick it up and work through it if you haven't already) on education. Specifically the section on "The Right and Duty of Parents Regarding Education" stood out to me. John Paul II quotes from the Second Vatican Council that

"[S]ince parents have conferred life on their children, they have a most solemn obligation to educate their offspring. Hence, 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. [ouch!] For it devolves on parents to create a family atmosphere so animated with love and reverence for God and others that a well-rounded personal and social development will be fostered among the children."--Declaration on Christian Education, Gravissimum Educationis, n. 3.

First of all, dem's fightin' words..."scarcely anything can compensate for their failure in it"! Wow. It is up to us as parents to teach our children. But the amazing thing about this quotation and it's message is that even though the task is so "solemn", so daunting, it is at the same time so, well, fun! We have to create an atmosphere that is alive with love. Not staunch and hard, but alive!

So I'm hoping that our little exercise is alive, and that it exemplifies joy and life for our children. And I do hope that even if she doesn't get it now, she gets it later. Mary loved her son so much her heart was pierced also.

leap 4 joy

Owie Crown

View of our Lenten homeshrine in progress.

"Then they put an owie crown on his head and it scratched his head..."

So the other day at breakfast John and I were discussing what we should "do" for Lent as a family. During Advent we decided to do a treasury of grace exercise. For those of you out there who may be reading this with no idea what that is, here is a little background. I was first introduced to the idea by a dear Schoenstatt sister they day I met her. I was protestant at the time and was having a terrible day. Casting lists had just gone up for my last year in the Nutcracker and I didn't get the part. I was devastated. This sister described this comforting idea of placing our disappointments, failures, joys and victories into the "treasury of grace", in essence offering them up to Mary so that they would be transformed into graces. We offer them as prayers to Jesus through Mary, and as prayers they become treasures. I spent the next few hours thinking about this spiritual offering and wondering if there was a physical representation of it somewhere on that land. Ha! Little did I know how full the Catholic faith was of physical representations! I thought that somewhere there must have a been a treasure chest full of sacrifices. What would those sacrifices look like?

So for Advent this past year, which is the "kinder, gentler Lent" (so says this sister), we placed a small treasure chest shaped box on our homeshrine with a pile of gold and silver glitter foam stars in a bowl next to it. Every night for night prayer my husband, 2-year-old daughter, and myself would each take a star and at the end of our usual prayers tell the Blessed Mother what we offered for her son and place the star in the box. I had every intention of creating a larger star out of the smaller ones to place on our tree or over the creche, but as my life goes, that didn't end up happening. Next year.

So this beautiful, kind, gentle treasury of grace exercise was perfect for a two year old, perfect for the beautiful season of Advent leading to the joys of Christmas. But what about Lent? What images of the extremely sacrificial nature Lent could we use in our family devotion?

I saw an example of one involving a crown of thorns. I love the idea. Each sacrifice is a paper flower placed on a thorn of the crown, portraying how Jesus's sacrifices blossom into graces for our salvation. While I would normally encourage even a toddler to be exposed to and use the real materials for nearly any activity, this particular example could be dangerous. Especially since she's at just the right height to reach up and pull down the crown of thorns onto her baby brother's head. So as we're sitting around the breakfast table trying to come up with ideas the discussion of the physical dangers of having a crown of thorns in the house turns into a discussion of the Way of the Cross for toddlers. Just how would you describe this to a two year old? Our version went something like this:

"They told Jesus he was going to die and put an owie crown on his head that scratched him, then they made him walk with his cross, then he fell down and saw his mom, Mary, then he got back up and Simon helped him, then he fell down again..."

Just didn't seem...um...how do you present such an important yet graphic aspect of our faith to innocent little lambs? Question for another time.

Our discussion turned back to the sacrifices for our night prayer and we finally settled on the image of the crown of thorns with flowers. For now we'll start educating our little ones with the images and practice of the exercise of sacrifice without the dangers of sharp thorns poking around the homeshrine. My talented husband made this version of a crown of thorns on Illustrator. We'll make purple flowers out of paper and paste them on the thorns with a glue stick.

John's work of art

The toddler's sacrifices will probably include using her words, saying please, and sharing with her baby brother. And for a two year old those are pretty tough.

leap for joy