A Mother's Prayer Companion: A Review

I first heard about it on Facebook. 

An old Ann Arbor friend, Christa, recommended A Mother’s Prayer Companion, created by a friend of hers from Franciscan University of Steubenville. Right off the bat I could see it had to be a good recommendation. Christa (whose recommendations in the past had been so spot on*) and FUS (my alma mater). I checked out the link. 

After perusing the website, filling a basket, then backing away while I doubted myself (“Would I just use it for a few days and then forget about it? Would it end up a pretty binder and a good idea, but no follow through on my part?”), I finally bought it. 

I was very excited when I got it. I put together the binder and got a pen and pencil case to fit it and found the perfect place for it—on a little table, next to a comfy chair that I had just moved into my bedroom to be my little prayer corner. 

I think it took a few days to actually sit down and use it. 

At first, I read through the pages-- one for Jim, one for each of the kids and one for me. For each person there were spots to write down gifts that I am thankful for and intentions. I wondered if I should write it in pencil, in case I make a mistake (like I could make a mistake about what to pray for?!!). Or should I find colored pens to make it all pretty? (No, that was too much pressure). 

Instead I filled out the “other intentions” page…that was easy. Black pen felt bold and confident, but I did it anyway. 

There, I was ready to pray. I just read through each page, stopping to fill in the blanks in my head. The prayers were what my Catechetics professor would have called “Scripture speak”. Verses from the Bible, slightly altered so that they made sense as a prayer. The citations were there and I looked up a few. But mostly I just read through each one, inserting the correct name and intentions and gifts. 

I was hooked. I finally felt like I was DOING something about all the things that swirl in my head—Will this child ever get over that issue? Will that child ever find his/her place in life? How do I help that child develop that gift? How can I help Jim with work? 

After about a month I began to write down intentions (in pen), and soon I was writing the answers to some of those prayers on the blank page opposite! 

I also wrote down gifts to be thankful for, including those little characteristics that are trying now, but you know are really a future gift in the making (her intensity, his entrepreneurial spirt, her single mindedness). 

Although I can’t say I use it everyday, and I often forget to bring it to adoration, it is my place to go when I feel myself fretting, and it is my anchor when I don’t “feel” like praying, or I am so distracted I feel like I “don’t have time” to pray. It has become such an integral part of my prayer life that I began to wish my kids could hear me pray some of these words: 

I praise you Lord, for (fill in the name) is fearfully and wonderfully made. 

What kid wouldn’t love to hear their mother say that about them? So I took parts of the prayers and copied them onto another page and began to pray aloud over each of my kids at bedtime. It was already our routine for me to pray something, like the Memorize, over them as I said good night, so this was easy to substitute once in a while. Then it became a nightly thing. 

They loved it! I could see my youngest grin at me in the darkness as I said the words. My boy would cuddle down deep and lean into me while I prayed over him. 

After a few months of this, my boy asked if he could pray over me. To my surprise he had it memorized perfectly. He put in “Mama” wherever I usually said their names. Now I was the one grinning in the darkness and leaning in to cuddle a little. 

After all of this, it was a no-brainer this past Christmas to buy one for my sister, sisters-in-law, and my mother. 

If I could buy one for every Mama I know, I would. Instead I write this, so you might go check it out and get one for yourself (or any Mama you know).

*About 16 years ago I showed Christa the online profile of a man named Jim, and she confirmed that I should write to him, and the rest is history.

Bonding With the Baby Jesus

Unlike the jarring noise of an alarm clock, which only drives me further into my pillow, the cry of a baby in the middle of the night was always enough to get me out of bed quite easily. I may have staggered a bit to the baby’s bed, with half closed eyes and a grumble on my lips, but I would be there just the same. The younger the baby, the swifter my response. 

Even today, with bigger kids, the sound of a child calling at 1AM will still cause me to sit up and probably head upstairs to the bedroom.

But, in the absence of those sweet, needy, voices calling my name, I am most likely to stay in bed as long as possible, assuming I am not hugely impacting the day’s schedule. 

I am not the mom up early and dressed before the kids rise with my Bible in my lap. I am more likely to be the mom still in bed while my kids come in wondering what’s for breakfast. 

Then, during the first week of Advent I was reading a meditation in my Magnificat and the writer talked about the natural, human, specifically motherly response to the cries of a tiny infant. We are drawn to comfort the baby, especially if they are our own. We will rise from a very comfortable sleep and stumble barefoot down the cold hall to comfort that baby. 

And the Christ Child comes in the dark of winter, in a cold, uncomfortable stable and calls to us. 

We can’t help but draw near. 

That reality has moved me this Advent!

The Christ Child wakens me each morning before my early-rising children so that He and I can spend a few moments together. I ask Him each night to wake me early, and He has. 

I may not be a morning person yet, but, so far, I have been able to rise and stumble to my chair, jammies still on, turn on the lights of the Advent Tree, and spend some time with the Babe in the Manger. 

May your Advent also be filled with quiet moments bonding with the Christ Child. 

Excuse me while I commune with myself and subdue my feelings....

A few quotes from our reading...

The Family That Overtook Christ  by M. Raymond

"Man was made to know....that means that the intellect must be developed: for man was made to know both here and hereafter. In fact that is Christ's description of heaven..."This is eternal life, that they may know..." pg. 222

"...those who speak most glibly of intellectual pride are usually bogged down and almost inextricably mired in intellectual sloth." pg. 223

I am still in the middle of this book, but I highly recommend it. There are so many other great quotes, but these were from today's reading.

The Story of Church by Rev. B. N. Forner, C.S.B.  (this is an old Church history text I got someplace I can't recall)
I have not read this whole book that I can remember. But I was looking up something about Abelard and Bernard of Clairveaux and I found this:

"There were parish schools which taught reading, writing, arithmetic and grammar, but they were not very numerous unit the end of the twelfth century. Prior to that time, the average boy received his primary instruction from his parents or from private tutors. At the Cathedral School, he entered upon his secondary education and was introduced to the liberal arts. These consisted of grammar, rhetoric, and logic which were called the Trivium; and arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music which were called the Quadrivium."

The reason I liked this quote was because it confirmed to me that the liberal arts were originally part of secondary education. And primary, or elementary education was for basic skills like reading, writing and arithmetic, no to mention the work of children: play.

And, the source of this blog post's title, from our current bedtime read aloud: The Children of the New Forest by Captain Marryat.

"Your intelligence [as in"what you just told me"] has so astounded me that I can listen to nothing else till I have had a little while to commune with myself and subdue my feelings."

I am practicing this line to use in everyday life.

Living in the Land of Counterpane

Just reflecting on the blessings of sick days. 

Since last Thursday we have had a convalescing kid in the house. First D, then A (this is a common train of germs here--D to A often skipping M-we hope). 

Although I hate it when my kids are sick ("Don't say "hate" Mama!"), I am pleasantly relieved when it is a sickness that doesn't involve the stomach. 

I am thanking God for this and for the fact that I know, in a few days, all will be well. I pray and offer my little sacrifices for the mama's and kids who don't have the comfort of assured recovery and minor symptoms. 

Sore throats can be a little difficult to treat (who wants to swallow ANYTHING when your throat hurts) but, so far they have been short lived and have allowed just enough energy for listening to stories, watching and playing on the iPad (kids have it so easy these days!) and quiet play. 

I thought of the poem by Robert Louis Stevenson when I saw this scene yesterday. 

The Land of Counterpane

WHEN I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so	5
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;	10
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,	15
The pleasant land of counterpane.

Watch for more this week about our last Sacramental Prep meeting this past weekend and about my changed opinion of soccer. 

A Lenten Journal for You

Today I offer a little plug for a great product from a wonderful group of people for whom I once had the pleasure to work. 

There is a new, very important website with lots of great new products for all who want to raise intentional disciples of Jesus Christ (and be one themselves).

It is called Education in Virtue and is brought to you by my good friends the Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist. 

The particular product that I am plugging today (like that alliteration?) is so brand spanking new that they are taking PRE-ORDERS!

It is a Lenten Journal (see a sample here) and it is meant "to help you prepare a ‘fitness’ plan for the heart in order to grow closer to our Loving God. "

Sounds good to me! I pre-ordered mine today and I had a question which was immediately answered (like within 15 minutes of sending the email) and then a second email after a response to the first (again, sent very quickly) I am told that I will be informed when the journal was ready to ship. Can't wait!!

I ordered 4 at $7 a piece, but haven't been asked to pay yet. They just need to get an idea of the number for the printing. 

We also own the Family Starter Kit of the virtue materials and are working on Orderliness. So far, the kids have added making their beds first thing in the morning to their list of good daily habits. Yea!!

NOTE: stay tuned for part 2 of my rantings and ramblings on the subject of religious education!

Confessions of a Catechist (Part 1)

NOTE: I wrote this a few months ago, but it sat on my computer because I wasn't sure if it was relevant. But then a firestorm was lit over at Patheos about religious education and I got my courage. This is only a part of what I wrote and it is still long. Sorry. For a list of all of the Patheos blog posts about this subject look at this post and the links at the end of it. 

I hated barbies. 

But I loved baby dolls and playing school. 

I always wanted to be a teacher.

Of course, I always wanted to be a mom too, but being a teacher was more in my control. 

So, in about my second or third year at Long Beach State I set out  to be a teacher. It worked well for me because I could basically continue my eclectic choice of classes, get a degree in "general education" and then get my teaching credential. 

My first job was as a third grade teacher in a public school. One of the big truths I learned about my role as a teacher was taught to me during my first set of parent teacher conferences in that third grade classroom. Each child in my class, with their strengths and weaknesses (as well as I could see them), their attitudes towards learning and towards me, was clearly a reflection of their parents. Each kid began to make sense when I met mom and dad. I learned that I could not overcome any learning difficulties without the super involved help of mom and dad, and I was not in any real way responsible for the learning success of my students. 

The public school experience lasted three years, then I decided to follow my new found interest in my Faith and teach at a Catholic School. There I taught second grade, which meant preparation for First Holy Communion. It was the early nineties.

This is when I first encountered the situation in parish catechesis. I had to work with the DRE (didn't even know what that meant at the time--Director of Religious Education) for the Parish. My first big battles were over Communion in the hand and the song every kid in the parish sang at their First Holy Communion. 

First, I had a student, a boy, who was known by all to be, shall we say, active. His mother felt that he would struggle to receive reverently if he was to receive in the hand. She wanted him to receive on the tongue. Final "ruling": for the sake of conformity at the First Communion ceremony, he would receive in the hand. Then he "had a choice after that". I did not agree but it wasn't my decision to make. 

Second battle: The song sung at the First Communion Mass was some song about peace that never mentioned God, let alone the Eucharist. It was a nice song, I guess. But not, in my opinion, appropriate for First Holy Communion. So, I found a song that went like this: 

I love you Jesus

And I lift my voice

To Worship you,

O my Soul, Rejoice

 

Take Joy, My King

In What you Hear

May it be a sweet, sweet, sound

In Your ear. 

(not sure where I found it and I have never heard it outside that school or my home-my kids sing that song each night as part of their bed time prayers.)

I lobbied for it and it was changed. At least as long as I was there. 

My experience at the Catholic School showed me that the Faith was not being passed on very well and I thought that clearer, more faithful textbooks were the answer. 

So I left my teaching job and headed east to Stuebenville, Ohio to get my Master's Degree in Catholic Theology and certification in Catechetics and, so I thought, to write textbooks.

There I learned my Faith the way I probably should have before I graduated from 12 years of Catholic school. With an MA hanging on my wall, I basically had an adult level understanding of the Faith. 

My teaching experience along with my catechetics training made me a perfect candidate to teach methods courses. For a year I taught undergraduate religious education majors the methods of passing on the faith. Most of these students would go into youth ministry or some sort of parish catechesis. Some would be Catholic school teachers. I really have no idea how much my teaching helped these young people since I had very little contact with anyone after that year. But I do know (from talking to my fellow graduates) that many of them would go out into parishes and feel very isolated and alone in their adherence to the Faith.

From there I went to a job as a DRE for some small Catholic Schools in another state. I was responsible for training the teachers and for helping to integrate the Faith into the daily life of the schools. 

I know we did some really good work while I was there. We came up with a written curriculum plan (I have quite a few copies left if anyone is interested) and we designed our own plan for training the teachers as catechists. Many of the teachers had very little training in teaching the Faith, their focus and experience had been teaching all the other subjects. So we had to bring their knowledge of the Faith up to at least the grade level they were teaching, with hopes of taking it further. And we had to help them distinguish between a subject that was purely academic (math, science, etc) and one that was meant to transform the learner into a true Disciple of Christ. But so many of them, like the catchists in our parishes, had been virtually unchatechized since their own sacramental preparation as a child, and did not truly understand discipleship. They were sincere in their desire to pass on the Faith, but wholly unprepared to do so. 

Over the years between getting my M.A. and being a DRE I had also done some teacher training at the diocesan level, and there I ran into a larger number of people whose real issue was not bringing Christ to the kids in their class, but their own problems with Church teaching. I often felt myself in a hostile environment, not because of the teaching methods I was passing on to them, but because of the content of the Faith they were meant to pass on.

I remember my catechectics professor saying that anyone under the age of 50 had to be entirely re-catechized. That was 15 years ago. I doubt we have successfully recatechized any significant number. 

If I sound negative, I don't mean to be. I really try to be hopeful, especially about the Church. And I was hopeful then-- excited, in love with the idea of really transforming catechesis and lighting a fire in the heart of children and their teachers.  

But I also knew what any savvy catechist knows--if the parents are not actively supporting what you are doing, you are fighting a losing battle. 

I began to see in retrospect that the only really reliable way to pass on the Faith was through the family. We succeeded in the school a little more than the parish faith formation programs simply because of time. It was a mathematical equation. 30 hours a week (in school) could not entirely counteract 168 hours (at home). It might influence it, though. Certainly, 2 hours a week (in parish religious ed) could rarely do either. Even a great parish faith formation program or a great Catholic school is a supplement. 

After I left my job at the Catholic school to get married and have children, I still had my hand in professional catechesis (not necessarily paid, just me going out and speaking or writing because I have training that other people want to legitimately tap into). I did some talks for volunteer parish catechists and a little bit of writing. 

Wherever I went, though, I ran into catechists who struggled with feelings of uselessness and hopelessness. They knew that very few of their students had the support at home to grow in their faith, and that those that did would probably be doing just as well without the CCE class--not that they didn't enjoy it, just that the family life of some was supportive in such a way as to make a 2 hour weekly class practically unnecessary. 

By the time my kids were born I had a very strong aversion to spending my time this way. I wondered why I would want to sacrifice time with my kids to plan and deliver a talk on catechetics to an audience that was either mostly un-interested (if not hostile) OR to folks that were fighting a losing battle in the trenches of parish faith formation? I thought "Sure, I could give them some hope, but someone else without small children could do that just as easily". 

So, for the past decade I have been focused on catechizing my own children. 

And for a long time now, I have had a sinking feeling in my gut that we are fooling ourselves about the success of our programs of catechesis. Now I am trying to be realistic about this one part of the institutional Church (catechetical programs) at this point in time.  

To be clear, I am not without hope. There are many things for which we can rejoice in the Church today. For example, there is a resurgence of religious vocations in some sectors. The Sisters that run the schools that I used to work for are a perfect example. Also, more and more lay folks are producing more and more great materials to facilitate conversion and help people know and understand the teachings of the Church. Perhaps this is why it is so frustrating to watch the institutional Church…the official Catholic bureaucracy...spin their wheels with the same approaches to evangelization and catechesis. 

I have had to really examine this gut feeling of the futility of the vast majority of faith formation programs. I don't like to offend people, I don't want to make someone feel hopeless about their work as a catechist. I don't want to discourage those who so generously give of their time. For me, this is not about the people who catechize; it is not about the content or in-class methodology (though those may need tons of improvement). It is about structures, "programs", bureaucracy, policies. 

In examining my thoughts and feelings about Parish catechesis programs I began to wonder about the thoughts of my former colleagues “in the trenches”. And that led me to the book I reviewed last month. But in the process of that survey of current thoughts on the subject, I began to realize that far from being “out" of the trenches for the past decade, I have been truly IN THE TRENCHES. We, my husband and I, have been experiencing catechesis of children in the way that the Church intends its. 

In the Rite of Baptism for infants, the Church has some strong words for parents: 

You have asked to have your child baptized. In doing so you are accepting the responsibility of training him (her) in the practice of the faith. It will be your duty to bring him (her) up to keep God’s commandments as Christ taught us, by loving God and our neighbor. Do you clearly understand what you are undertaking?

On your part, you must make it your constant care to bring him (her) up in the practice of the faith. See that the divine life which God gives him (her) is kept safe from the poison of sin, to grow always stronger in his (her) heart.

[Parents] will be the first teachers of their child in the ways of faith. May they be also the best of teachers, bearing witness to the faith by what they say and do 

And so we have taken our three baptized babies and made it our constant care to bring them up in the practice of the faith, guarding and growing the divine life that we ASKED the Church to instill in their souls. 

I am not claiming we have done it all right. Our kids are not saints yet, but then again neither are we. But we are working it out, in fear and trembling. And we have learned some things about bringing children to Faith. 

We have learned that we do not APPLY faith to our children like sunscreen, it is God Who moves in them. 

Our job is to help them see that God is moving in them. 

Our job is to bring them into HIs presence as often as possible (Mass, Adoration, Confession, prayer at home, recollecting Christ throughout the day, living the liturgical year)

And our job is to help them understand Who He is, why He created them and what He wants from them. In short, how to be truly happy in this life, and the next. 

None of this takes a Master's Degree in Theology or training as a catechist to do. All that does is sometimes help to answer questions without having to look them up first...sometimes. Rather, it is done through love (no one loves our kids more than we do) and grace (no one else has the grace of a sacrament--Matrimony--to help them raise our children).

Frankly, no one else is better at training our children in the practice of the Faith. 

No one but my husband and I. 

Not the RE teacher, not the DRE, not Sister Mary Wonderful, not the Pastor. 

Not even Pope Francis. 

Not even St. Francis. 

VLOG: Transubstantiation: It Looks Like Bread, But It is Jesus!

I know I promised a Steps Into Sin Part II video and that footage remains on my computer, un-edited. There was more momentum behind a new VLOG to help A get ready for her First Holy Communion. 

And here it is: 

UPDATE: I realized that I forgot to include the sentence that came out of this lesson that I have been whispering in the ears of my children at Mass since the oldest was a baby: It looks like bread, but it's Jesus. I thought it deserved to be in the title of the blog post, even if I didn't get it into the video in the quite the way I would have liked. 

VLOG 2: The Steps into Sin Part 1

7QT: Out of Sync and a Link (or two)

So, instead of saving my pretty, happy, funny and real pictures from the Convent Blessing, and using them for {phfr} at Like Mother, Like Daughter, I used them on Tuesday. Instead of doing a What We're Reading Wednesday I wrote about our book on Thursday. I totally skipped 7QT Friday, but I have at least a few quick takes to do this morning.

In keeping with my Out Of Sync Week, here is my version of 7 Quick Takes for A Saturday Morning.

1: Nick Names
I promised to explain about Sister Joseph Andrew's nick name "Sister Bone Breaker". Don't worry, it wasn't very widely known or used. But it was very apt.

Back in the day--when I was single and living in Ann Arbor and Sister was after me to attend a discernment retreat and I was hedging and making excuses, I thought I had the prefect excuse. My friend Laurie was coming to visit. She would be flying in the day the retreat was to begin. Sr. Joseph Andrew slyly offered to pray that, if it was God's will, I would be able to attend the retreat. I smugly assumed God's will had already been decided.

When the day of the retreat arrived, I get a call from Laurie. She is at the airport and her flight has been delayed due to frost--or it may have been diverted--but anyway, after an hour or two of hemming and hawing and multiple phone calls she decided to stay home that weekend.

Seriously.

I HAD to go to the retreat.

When I showed up and told Sister Joseph Andrew she smiled knowingly, and told me she had another girl coming who had the same excuse as me only her friend BROKE HER ARM and couldn't come to visit.

So, the other girl---don't know who she was---and I were both prayed into the discernment retreat by a Sister whose prayers were, apparently, so powerful they could stop air travel AND break bones.

2: Link #1
I found the following link at Conversion Diary and was moved by the blogger's story. You will be too. I promise: I'm no theologian.

3: Link #2
Here is a humorous, and mostly accurate, explanation of the entitled generation of young people trying to flood the job market these days: Generation-y-unhappy.

4: Safety Moment
At work, Jim and his co-workers have what they call "Safety Moments". In the oil industry, not paying attention to safety can cost lots of money, and more importantly, it can cost lives. So they are interested in making sure everyone, across the business is safety minded. A "Safety Moment" is when a presenter at a meeting shares some story of safety--or un-safety--to inspire folks to pay attention.

The most common safety reminder in our house is to "hold onto the railing while going up or down stairs". We are always after the kids, especially when they are toting toys from one floor to the other with no free hand to hold on with. So, yesterday morning, 7yo A was on her way down stairs, with a stuffed animal in one hand and the letter that the stuffed animal had written in the other, when she apparently missed the first step. We heard the sound and it was scary. According to her story, she feel from the top to the first landing, about 10 steps.

Being prone to drama, her crying was LOUD and it took a few minutes to be sure there was nothing seriously wrong. We quickly narrowed down the pain to her ankle and she was moved to the couch to rest. By the afternoon we were pretty sure we had at least a good sprain so we headed to the local Walk-in Clinic---make sure you walk, don't run, 'cause you'll be waiting awhile anyway.

After hours of waiting and a few minutes with a doctor in one office and an x-ray technician in another location, we had the diagnosis: sprain. Cure: off load the ankle for two weeks.

A was a trooper until she heard she needed crutches. For some reason that induced lots of weepy objections. When she had calmed down I was able to get an explanation out of her: "When I picture myself in crutches I just don't like it."

I don't think it is a vanity thing, I think it is a fear thing--it makes her feel like something is wrong and she is worried about that.

We haven't gotten any crutches yet, but the plan is to find some today. I don't think I can carry her everyplace all week, so we will persevere in the search for a mobility assist.

7: No, I didn't skip 5 and 6. Check my math below.

Since #1 and #4 were so long I will count them each as two. So that makes....let me count two plus one more, plus another, plus two more is six. So this is seven.

Quick take #7 is just to say that I will belatedly link to Jen over at Conversion Diary. And, though I don't want to be a weird fan-girl or anything, I just have to say I spotted Jen at the Convent Blessing, though she left before I could go over and ask for her autograph.

No--I would really do that. But, I may have introduced myself if I had a chance---or any guts. Instead I stared and pointed.

Yah. Weird, huh?

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Mind the Gap

I read a blog post (linked below) this past week that really spoke to me. It was an analogy for the differences between school, school-at-home, and what some people call "un-schooling". 

I admit the first thing that attracted me to this blog post was the title. For those who are not familiar with it when you take a train or subway in the U.K. you see signs like this:

(please excuse the grainy iPod photo)
This is a doorway upstairs in our house. The poster at the top is like the signs you see in the Tube stations. The map on the right is a London Tube Map. 

It refers to the gap that exists between the train and the platform edge. In fact, when you are in the tube stations of London there is a repeated recorded voice that says: "Mind the Gap between the train and the platform edge." I have very fond memories of D, with his sweet little three year old voice and his very slight British accent, repeating these words over and over again. 

This blogger has used the phrase and the idea of riding a train, as opposed to a car or bike, to explain the different approaches to education. 

It's like someone hands you a train schedule when you are five years old, and it details the plan for every day of the next thirteen to seventeen years of your life. The stops are laid out, the timetable is set. There is only one set of tracks for your school train.They are the same for everyone. They tell you this is the only way to get between stops, where you are tested to make sure the train is on schedule.

I find that in spite of having been a "train conductor" (school teacher) in the past, my inclination for my own children is the bicycle approach. 

Her image of the family riding bikes together, exploring the world around them at a more leisurely place, with older kids having some freedom to explore--to steer their bike, to pedal at their own pace-- is exactly how we like to see ourselves. 

You learn from all things you do, but the learning does not need to be measured. Your parents don't keep track of how fast or how far you go each day...You don't have to keep up with anyone else.

Development--growing up--is not a race. Yet we spend so much time, as a society, worrying about our kids keeping up. 

I am not just talking about the world of "you have to get into the right pre-school if you are going to get into that great college" or "if you haven't started competitive football by the age of five you may as well give up". 

I am also talking about reading fluently by kindergarten (or even first or second grade) about doing algebra in third grade. 

So much of what we think of as academic is really developmental. If we had a more relaxed approach to when a child reads fluently, we may see a decrease in learning disability labels, or at least a decrease in kids wearing glasses. If we had a more relaxed approach to math instruction, we might have fewer grown-ups who "hate math" or think they are "bad at math".

Opting out of the race, getting off the train, so to speak can be very difficult. The world around you assumes that your objective is to make sure your kid is "on schedule" and that there are "no gaps". Our objective is to raise children who love God first, know how to love others as well as themselves, and love to learn. 

Love does not keep a schedule, arrive at certain stops at certain times, or stick to one set of tracks. Love is free.

Go. Read. She explains the analogy really well. 

The Patience of a GPS

If only I was as patient as my GPS. 

Here is my GPS first thing in the morning.
I wish I could get a sign like that for my forehead for first thing in the morning. 

Michelle (the name of the voice we chose for our GPS) never sounds the least bit annoyed when I ignore her directions. She will say "Make a legal u-turn" innumerable times in the same sweet tone. She never says "How many times have I told you to make a legal u-turn?" and she never says "If I have to say make a legal u-turn one more time there will be consequences."

Since I know I will need to repeat myself a lot throughout my kids' childhood, I may as well be sweet about it. I mean what kid heard "Put your shoes away, please" and never had to be told again? Or after being told "Please don't do that" completely stopped all strange noises and loud tappings? What child only had to hear once "Elbows off the table please."?

None. 

Actually, for a couple of years now I have been looking for a GPS voice that WILL nag and get frustrated with me. I think it would be funny. 

Somehow I don't think my kids find it funny when I nag and talk impatiently.

Auntie Leila over at Like Mother, Like Daughter has some great advice about how NOT to wear out your kid's name. I am going to try and follow her advice this week. 

So, the plan is this: talk like Michelle even if I feel like exploding and only use these three precious names in love (or real danger). The rest of the time I go to them and get eye contact first or use a sweet nick name that softens my voice. 

Yikes! I think I have my work cut out for me. 

Chocolate and Heaven

So...slow readers that we are, we are STILL reading The Last Battle. But we are still loving it! Currently, we are near the end and the characters are all trying to figure out where they are. They saw Narnia die, at least the Narnia that they knew. But this new land looks a lot like Narnia. Here is what Lord Digory says:

When Aslan said you could never go back to Narnia, he meant the Narnia you were thinking of. But that was not the real Narnia. That had a beginning and an end. It was only a shadow or a copy of the real Narnia which has always been here and always will be here: just as our world, England and all, is only a shadow or copy of something in Aslan's real world. 

When we finished the chapter we had a great discussion of this life and the Next Life. We talked about how everything good that is here points us to the good of heaven. 

At this point, the seven year old said. "You know what? Chocolate is a copy of heaven." A girl after my own heart! Is a taste for good chocolate genetic?

I got this image from Googling chocolate. I do not own it but I hope it is made from dark chocolate. 

Sometimes the simplest things are the truest (if one thing can be truer than another, which it can't, really…but you know what I mean). 

Yes, chocolate is a thing that points me to heaven. So is that beautiful flower. So is a beautiful painting. So is a crucifix. So is the face of an innocent child. So is a venti, iced, cinnamon dulce latte. 

Perhaps they aren't equally clear copies of heaven. But, any created good in this life is a taste of the eternal Goods of Heaven. 

That is why we sin when we make a created good our god. That incredible sunset is meant to point you to its Creator. That love you experience from your friends and family is meant to point you to the Lover (God) and the Beloved (God). 

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (second only to Scripture as a self-help/answer-all-the-questions-of-life-book) says this. (the big print is my addition) 

#1060 At the end of time, the Kingdom of God will come in its fullness. Then the just will reign with Christ for ever, glorified in body and soul, and the material universe itself will be transformed. God will then be "all in all" (1 Cor 15:28), in eternal life.

If our love for this world is properly ordered it will lead us straight to the Triune God who awaits us in the Next World. 

So, the next time you taste some great chocolate, praise God and long for the Chocolate of Heaven. And if you have to skip that great chocolate, you can offer it up and remind yourself that you are building a store of REALLY Real Chocolate in Heaven! 

"You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness."

In light of yesterday's post about the dangers of the "silliest time in one's life", I wanted to share this quote from St. Augustine on his feast. In his famous Confessions, he spoke of his love of created things and how they kept him from the love of God. 

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you!  You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.  In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created.  You were with me, but I was not with you.  Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all.  You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness.  You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.  You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you.  I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more.  You touched me, and I burned for your peace.

from The Confessions of St. Augustine 

May all the flashing, shining, lovely things in our life point us to the One Who loves us first and best.

Happy Feast of St. Augustine!

****

So, my son called me yesterday. 

For the first time. 

No he isn't away at college---he's only nine for goodness sake. 

But he heard Father at Mass yesterday, on the Feast of St. Monica, mother of St. Augustine, give everyone some homework: 

call, write, hug your mother. 

So he picked up the upstairs phone and dialed my cell phone just to tell me that he loved me and that he would give me a hug as soon as he saw me. 

I was downstairs. 

And he asked first. 

What a good boy!

Narnia, Nylons and What's Wrong with the World

We are almost done reading the Chronicles of Narnia, and there are so many great parts that we have talked about...or I have talked to the kids about. But yesterday there was a part that I could only begin to rant discuss with the kids before their eyes glazed over. So, I saved my lecture thoughts for you (and for them when they read this in ten years).  

SPOILER ALERT: You may learn stuff about the series that you don't want to if you haven't already read it. You can always skip the quotes and go right to my rant..umm opinions. 

Towards the end of "The Last Battle" we meet up with all the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve that have ever been to Narnia, except one. 

Susan is missing. She is "no longer a friend of Narnia."

Why? Jill begins to explain: 

"She's interested in nothing nowadays except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

But Lady Polly clarifies a bit: 

"Grown-up indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole ideas is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

Wow! So this infatuation with the teen years, the time that is meant to be a transition from childhood to adulthood, is nothing new. Even in C.S. Lewis time, racing to the young adult stage, and then never wanting to leave, was a problem. We just need to replace nylons with racey underwear, lipstick with tattoos, and invitations with tweets and it could be our world. 

Today we have, first of all, a name for this new (since sometime in the late 50's) stage: "Teenager." Next everything must be focused on that time in your life. Children younger than 13 were first called "pre-teens"...now they are "tweens". 

Once they have arrived at "Teenager" they have whole industries vying for their attention and telling them what they should do, wear, think, eat, say, want, etc.

We spend tons of money on their high school experience: sports, clubs, dances, the Prom, social experiences of all sorts. Forget the disappointment they will feel when they can't afford a limo and a wildly expensive dress for every special occasion in their life.

Then, they go off to college where they are still called kids (until they are 26 and FINALLY kicked off the parent's health insurance) and they get to have "the college experience" which is apparently about four years of financed play, with some learning tacked on---or at least some classes endured in the hopes that learning will happen. 

Now, apparently college graduation doesn't end this focus on the World of the Teenager. For the rest of their lives they will mourn their passing youth, recapture those good old days, shop at Forever 21, and strive for their teen-age figure. Eventually, they will learn to live vicariously through their own teenagers. 

I know...not everyone does this. But you can't deny that TV, film, radio, and fashion all conspire to convince us that TEENAGER is where it's at. 

This is why I am all in favor of abolishing the high school. I say, give them internships and then let them spend their spare time studying what they need to know to get into a university (though I could make an argument against the university too---at least most of them). 

And I am only being slightly humorous here. Let's face it, when it comes to my opinions on education I am counter-culture even to those who are already considered counter cultural. 

For more insight into my radical opinions, read Anthony Esolen, wherever he may be found.

Favorite Quotes from my Weekend Reading

Some days we laugh and relish. 

Some days we are just glad we survived.

Rachel Balducci

Testosterhome.

We relished these days.
I looked all through my pictures for a day we "survived"---apparently we don't take pictures of those days. 

<  >

Faith in men is for slaves.  

Faith in man is for fools.  

Faith in God is for men.

Anthony Esolen from his series "Life Under Compulsion". 

It looks to some like "Faith in men" but it is truly "Faith in God". 

St. Anthony, pray for us. 

Blogs and Feelings and Such

I just read a blog post that made say aloud: Ditto. Ginny over at Small Things is writing about "hard times, pretty pictures."

Example of my photography skills. 

I do not say "Ditto" because I have experienced what Ginny is experiencing. Though she doesn't share what it is, I know that right now, in my life, things are going along rather "swimmingly", not so much "sinking-ly". So I am not posting the good as opposed to the hard times, or tragic or painful times. But maybe as opposed to the messy, embarrassing, or frustrating.

Example of kid photography skills.

One of the ways I see my blog is as a record of things for my kids to look back on. A snap shot of their childhood. I am not good at remembering to take pictures, and I am not a talented photographer, but I know how to write. And so I try to put into words what we are doing and thinking now. 

Cousin seen through fingers.

It is also a place to put down my thoughts, reactions, rants, musings...whatever. But I rarely share too much about the bad days. It isn't my style and doesn't help me deal better with them. 

Ginny says: 

And I guess I just need you to know that.  I post beauty, even when life is ugly.  For me, it’s the only way.

I see that in her blog. I admire that in her blog. And I am thankful for the reminder. 

Ginny also says: 

Blogs have a way of deceiving, but that’s only if you choose to read them that way.  It’s a choice.  You can read that I stopped for cherries, and make all sorts of assumptions, or you can simply be reminded that we all have our good moments–you and me. 

Again..."Yes Ginny, thank you for saying it." 

I know that there are some very beautiful blogs that I avoid because they make me feel---no---I choose to compare myself and then end up feeling bad, or stressed, or regretful. 

But I realize some people might have the same reaction to parts of my blog. And then I worry and think--should I be more real? Should I blog like Jen (whose words I love to read and chuckle at) about my life with kids. But I am not Jen. And she is not me. Nor am I Ginny. 

Finally, Ginny's blog post struck me with this line: 

I choose not to share the trials we face as parents here.  As our boys have gotten older, it has become far more obvious why it’s necessary that I don’t.  No matter the temptation to pour my heart out, this is the internet, and my heart is not the only one on the line.

I can see that my "funny kid stories" are increasingly only about the youngest, and that I am reluctant to share stories (even triumphs and good stuff) about the two older kids. 

Those are no longer only my stories to tell. As kids grow and become more self-aware those stories are entirely theirs. I may write about them in a more private setting, just to save the memory. But they don't go here anymore. 

More Kid Pictures: Puppy watches Cousin.