As I first sat
down to write today, Mike was out at a meeting.
Nina was bouncing
and singing as she led Jack in constructing a fort out of stools, boxes, a
chair, a cradle mattress, some Montessori work rugs and sundry other items that
they had collected from our kitchen and living room.
Meanwhile, Luke
had populated a foot stool with an elaborate “army guys” battle scene, which he
then began to narrate and enact.
All three of my
children were happily engaged in constructing play. So, I decided to take advantage of the relative
quiet of the moment in order to translate some thoughts that I was having about
our domestic church into words to share here.
However, as my
computer booted up, the focused intent of my children broke down. No sooner did the computer screen indicate that
all was ready for me to begin writing then did my children’s choices demand
just the opposite.
So it was that my
thoughts were redirected to my children’s needs and writing was put on
pause....
Now, several
hours later, I find myself sitting in the quiet of my living room after
cuddling Nina into slumber and bidding goodnight to the boys, who Daddy is
still trying to get to sleep.
Luke’s persistent
voice chatters on to Daddy down the hall as my own inner voice tries to
translate earlier thoughts into coherent words.
Those words don’t
want to come though.
Instead, a patchwork
of memories envelopes me, in gratitude:
Seven years ago
at this moment, Mike and I were ogling our first born. Exhausted after over 12 hours of labor,
including four of pushing, we beamed at our five pound, nine ounce blessing who
had let out his first cry just several hours prior. We were filled with a new understanding of
love. We were overcome by an unequaled
sense of awe at both the beauty and the responsibility that we held, quite
literally, in our arms...
Five and a half
years ago, we welcomed our second child into this world – a child who continues
to shine with an incredible heart of compassion and charity, even in between
her five-year-old tantrums. A little
girl who has taught me as much in her short life thus far as I think I have
taught her...
Two and half
years ago, our surprise third arrived. Our youngest child, who is just beginning to
test limits with his decided independence, but who has long since proven to
Mike and me just how limitless God’s wisdom is.
We were not sure that we were ready for another child when we realized
we had conceived one. That child was
ready for us though. And what joy he has
brought our family...
For seven years
now, Mike and I have been given countless opportunities to create a home that
is a quintessential “first school of Christian life”, a place of “prayer”,
“thanksgiving”, “self-denial”, “active charity”, “endurance”, “joy of work”,”
love”, and “generous – even repeated – forgiveness.”
Tonight, as I reflect
upon paragraphs 1657-8 of the Catechism, I realize how many times Mike and I
have fallen short of our charge.
I can clearly recollect
moments when I have not acted by “word and example” as a “first herald of
faith”. I have put business and busyness
above prayer. I have bemoaned challenges
instead of counting blessings. I have
lashed out when disturbed as I went about self-centered activities. I have acted unkindly. I have lacked stamina. I have grumbled through work. I have held onto frustrations and expressed
anger instead of releasing such destructive tendencies in order to embrace
peace and forgiveness. In short, I have fallen
prey to vices.
Thankfully, I have
also embraced countless moments or grace.
I have received
absolution, gratefully, more than once.
Together with
Mike, I have intentionally sought to honor the privilege of parenting and, in
doing so, have discovered the divine even in the everyday – the miraculous
moments that stand still for their love and warmth. The fabric of family life that is woven
during times of connection – and even correction. The power
of charity extended to us and through us.
The coziness of hope and the security of promise that blanket us even
when we are restless so that we might hunker down into peace.
Tonight, as I reflect upon the last seven years of living in
our Ecclesia Domestica, I recognize
that they have been wrought with the imperfection of my humanity. Yet they have also been glorified by the gift
of unconditional love.
I am not always a perfect conduit of this love.
Thankfully, I am not expected to be.
I am simply invited to share it.
Oh, how glad I am! And, how lucky
that I have been able to extend that invitation to three young children who
challenge me as much as they delight me, whose
being I am ever so grateful for.
As you look toward the
celebration of Baby Jesus’ birth and recall that He chose to be born and
brought up in the bosom of a family, what thoughts about your own family’s
experience as a domestic church come to mind?
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