In Which I Try to Stop Comparing and Start Embracing the Lives in Front of Me

One of my bad habits is comparing myself to other women. Lately, I have been reading a lot of blogs by women I consider similar to myself, thoughtful literate mothers who are raising their families in the Catholic Church. I learn so much from them about how they manage their time and responsibilities while nurturing their faith.

I gotta say, though, I allow myself to feel "left out," when I consider their large families and the time they spend homeschooling their children and creating home and nurturing friendships with like-minded women living similar lives. My life looks nothing like this. I start to feel inadequate, as if my life is less than theirs. This is, in the end, a kind of idolatry and a disregard for the One who called me by name into being.

National Shrine of the North American Martyrs: Blessings Amid Brutality

I'm a half-century old and have been a practicing Catholic most of those years. And yet, until yesterday, I had never visited a shrine.  I never really understood the point. As a Christian, I believe that Mystery entered human history and settled among us. As a result, Christ is our constant companion. He is with us in every moment, in the circumstances of every person we encounter. So what's the point, my thinking went, of traveling many miles to a shrine of people who lived out their destinies with an eye on the One who made them?

This was my thinking until I discovered the Jesuit Martyrs of North America, until I read and reflected on their lives, and until our son chose one of them as his Confirmation companion. Then I wanted to go to the places these brave, gentle men had lived and died. I wanted to be better inspired by their example by seeing their lived experiences. This is how Lucas and I found ourselves yesterday morning in rural Auriesville, New York, at the National Shrine of the North American Martyrs.

With a Bow and a Passport and the Prayers of St. Gabriel, Our Son Spreads His Wings

"As long as I have my bow and my passport, I'm good. Those are the important things." This is one of the last things our 16-year-old told me before we hugged him goodbye at the Philadelphia International Airport a few hours ago.

Tonight he and his orchestra are flying to Heathrow and then Brussels for a 10-day concert tour of Europe. He's never been off the North American continent. For our family, flying to Europe is a Very Big Deal, something my husband never has done and something I last did a quarter-century ago. This is why we showed up at Terminal A nearly five hours before his flight was scheduled to take off.

Paying it Forward: Liebster Award Nominees... by Me!

The lovely Celeste at Sacred Sharings For the Soul surprised me with a nomination for a Liebster award. This award originated in Germany a few years ago by a woman named Jasmin and is a way for bloggers to recognize and recommend each other. 

Thank you, Celeste! I am going to follow her lead and "award" four fellow bloggers:

Paula,  Marissa, Heidi, and Sarah. Now Sarah has more than 200 followers, but hey people, I knew her way back when.   Well, only three years ago but that is like a whole generation in bloggyland. 

Here are my 11 questions for my nominees....

Lenten Talk: St. Rita of Cascia

My friend Melissa drove me to Staten Island tonight so we could attend an inspiring talk about St. Rita of Cascia at a parish called Saint Rita Church.  Call it food for our Lenten journeys.

The speaker was Father Michael Di Gregorio, O.S.A., who grew up in the parish and graduated from its grammar school. He is an Augustinian priest who now serves as vicar general of the Augustinian order in Rome. He also is the author of a biography of Saint Rita called The Precious Pearl: The Story of Saint Rita of Cascia.

 "We think of a saint as someone who is out of this world." he told the audience of about 70 in the church sanctuary. "But a saint is someone who is attuned to the Voice that speaks within and who tries to respond openly and honestly. " Saint Rita, he said. "had her feet on the ground."

Second Sunday of Advent: John the Baptist, Juan Diego and My Family

Our 16 year old son readily agreed to help me prepare our meal for the second Sunday of Advent.  Right now, a "Majestic and Moist Honey Cake" is baking in the oven and soon I will call him downstairs to work on the lime-cilantro pork tacos. The boys actually are beginning to look forward to our Sunday dinners, which I began planning in earnest starting with the Feast of Christ the King.

I was worried our family was too old to try to catch the liturgical rhythm of Advent, that too many years of too many Sundays had passed without a sense of stopping and relaxing instead of shopping and catching up on homework. But I was wrong; we all are enjoying spending our Sundays after Mass napping, watching football, cooking and then having a family meal together. So...what's with the honey cake this Sunday?

St. Nicholas Day: Do You Celebrate This Advent Saint?

I didn't grow up celebrating St. Nicholas Day on December 6, and we never truly celebrated it with our sons.  How do you celebrate this feast day? This year, we are celebrating.

Our sons did grow up listening to me read them a book called "The True Story of Saint Nicholas,"  (published by Pauline Books and Media) and so they always have known that Santa Claus once was a real man, a Turkish man, a bishop who cared for the poor.  Years ago, that book was a way to reclaim Saint Nicholas from the garish commercialization of what I call Consumer Christmas. This year, I am doing trying in earnest what I can to mark the Advent season in our home. Re-enter Saint Nicholas, amid the flurry of our boys' math homework, basketball practices, chamber music rehearsals and National Honor Society essays.

Feast of All Saints: Cold and Dark, Emerging in Christ's Light

I left my iPad and cell phone in our SUV today before walking into the 12:15 p.m All Saints' Day Mass at our New Jersey parish. In some ways, I wish I hadn't. I wish I could share with you some photographs of the 157-year-old church, plunged in the darkness and cold in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, lit only by the baptismal candle, two candles in the front of the church and six candles on the altar. Instead, I will have to describe to you in words the beauty of those moments and how the Mass, in which we commemorate the named and unnamed saints of our church, left me with the sense of light and warmth of Christ and those who have gone before us and now see God face to face.

Turning Fifty, Drinking Merlot and Thinking about St. Francis

This week, my dear friend Jane congratulated me on turning fifty. "I didn't do anything," I told her. "I just kept breathing."

At the small Italian restaurant Greg took me to tonight to celebrate my turning 50 tomorrow, a man was playing the piano and singing. Among his tunes was "Happy Birthday." I knew he wasn't playing it for me. It would have embarrassed me and my husband, who knows me well, would not have requested the song. Still, it was sweet to hear as I sipped red Merlot beside my still-48-year-old husband.

After a Novena: What Are Some Good Ways to Show Gratitude?

My girlfriend K., like me, was raised Catholic and like me, did not receive a full grounding in the faith.  She asked me yesterday how best to show her gratitude to God for answered prayers. "Prayer works!" she told me yesterday. "It really really works!" I'd like to ask you, dear readers, what your suggestions might be.

Brutal Blessing: "Saints of the American Wilderness"

Let me tell you, there is no way I would have our 12-year-old child read this book. I ordered "Saints of the American Wilderness" by Rev. John A. O'Brien because our younger son has chosen Antoine Daniel as his Confirmation name and I was planning to read the book with him. Antoine Daniel is one of eight Jesuit missionaries martyred in 17th century Canada.

 It is so brutal in its details that many times I had to put the book down and take a breather. That said, adults should read "Saints of the American Wilderness" if they want to understand the sacrifices our ancestors made to bring the message of Christ to the North American continent. Be forewarned: within the first few chapters, we read detailed, and I mean detailed, accounts of cannibalism, finger chewing, sadistic torture and on and on. These details are not gratuitous. They go a long way in helping the reader understand exactly what these French men faced as they evangelized among the Hurons of what is now Ontario.

A Felt Icon for a First Communion

You know what I love about the internet? You can discover all kinds of information with your fingertips AND you can buy all kinds of obscure stuff from all over the world. Quirky things that can actually help build a child's faith and prayer life. Alec, a family friends' middle child, celebrated his First Communion today. That's him at his home next to his dad after the Mass after he changed into a plaid shirt and striped shorts. His patron saint is Alexander of Comana, the charcoal burner. Seriously? I had never heard of the guy.

A Gray Afternoon, A Sweet Tradition and the World of Souls

This afternoon, between work and errands, I stopped by a funeral home a mile or so from the high school where I teach. A young colleague's father had died at age 86 after a long, difficult illness. Along with dozens of my colleagues, I went to pay my respects and to pray for her father's soul before his funeral Mass. As I headed out of the funeral home, I was struck by the idea that such a beautiful and solemn tradition is precious and might one day be a rarity. 

New To Me: North American Martyrs

"Saints of the American Wilderness: The Brave Lives and Holy Deaths of the Eight North American Martyrs" arrived on our doorstep yesterday afternoon. Amid laundry and teaching and carpooling and trying to keep up with my new fitness plan, I've been sneaking in snatches of it. I am grateful to blogging brother John Janaro for recommending it. I hope to write a full review once I finish this book.


So, why is a woman who drives around suburbia carting her kids and planning tomorrow's lessons for her high school students delving into the lives of the eight 17th century French men martyred as they ministered to native people in what is now Ontario? 

North American Martyrs: I am Looking for a Book about Them

Our son Lucas is searching for a patron saint. He will be confirmed next spring. He asked me to help him find a French saint - mostly I think because he's taking French and thinks a French name would sound cool as part of his.

I did a little googling and discovered Saint Antoine Daniel, one of the North American, or Canadian martyrs, Jesuits martyred in what is now southern Ontario and upstate New York in the mid17th century.

Lucas was impressed by his bravery in the face of most assured death.

Now, dear readers, I am wondering: can you recommend a book we can read together about these brave Jesuits? Thanks!

Lenten Talk: Padre Pio

Tonight I had the beautiful experience of visiting St. Rita's Parish on Staten Island with two girlfriends to attend a Lenten talk on St. Pio of Pietrelcina, (Padre Pio).  The evening was a remarkable reminder of the reasonableness and the universality of our faith.

St. Anthony in the Parking Lot

Tonight after dinner I drove to Target to buy some much-needed pants for our 12-year-old, as well as Halloween candy for tomorrow night. Someplace between my house and the store, I lost my wallet. I headed home. I looked around the kitchen and family room. My husband searched the minivan. No wallet. So I drove back to Target, about 20 minutes away, praying out loud to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost objects.

Dear St. Anthony, please come around. 

Something's been lost and can't be found. 

I checked the parking lot. Maybe my wallet had fallen out of my pocket? No luck. So I reported the wallet missing at customer service, leaving them my home phone number. I considered that if someone had found my wallet, the odds were good that he or she was an honest person and would find a way to get it back to me.

In Maine, Celebrating Mass in a Time of Hurricane

In the pouring rain this morning, my girlfriend dropped my family off at St. John's Catholic Church in downtown Bangor, Maine before parking her van and joining us. My husband and I had spent a fitful night, worrying while it rained on the deck outside our bedroom about Hurricane Irene heading up the East Coast. On neighbors' Facebook pages, we have seen pictures of our hometown in New Jersey, with its swollen river, downed trees and flooded roads and bridges.

Inside, the church welcomed us, a sanctuary of calm and light in the storms raging outside and within our hearts. The Mass we attended was also filled almost to capacity with worshipers. The church itself was beautiful, dating from 1855. The parish was celebrating the ordination yesterday of two new deacons. A chamber choir chanted the liturgy with us. What beautiful signs of God's grace among us.

Victor Fleming's Technicolored Joan of Arc: Portraying a Life of Faith

Cradle Catholics who grew up in the tumultuous years following Vatican II, my husband and I as children learned virtually nothing about saints. Greg first heard of Joan of Arc from a Brady Bunch episode; I learned a bit about her in my high school church youth group, but dismissed her as a nut case.

I've been curious about Joan of Arc ever since I read about her in Father James Martin's My Life with the Saints earlier this year. So I rented Victor Fleming's 1948 movie on Netflix. I recommend this movie to anyone who wants to learn some basics about this remarkable saint. Older children and teens can also learn a lot about St. Joan by watching this movie.

St. Bernard of Clairvaux: "Why Have I Come Here?"

 Painting by Georg Andreas Wasshuber (1650-1732)

Today we celebrate the feast day of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, a medieval monk, writer and a gifted preacher. This Doctor of the Church was born in Burgundy in 1090. There is much to learn about and from the life of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, considered one of the last Fathers of the Church. His father was a knight who died in the First Crusade.

Encouraged by his devout mother, St. Bernard joined a Cistercian monastary when he was 22. His enthusiasm for the cloistered life was so great his four brothers and nearly 30 friends joined the monastery too. He later founded and became Abbott of Clairvaux Abbey. While St. Bernard was a contemplative, politicians, bishops and kings sought him out. Consequently, his life was woven in with the politics of the the Second Crusade and of the Papacy.