Catholic Roundup

Sarah at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering brings us a wonderful reflection on learning about motherhood from Mary, the Mother of God.

Aiming for Mary

January first, the feast of Mary, Mother of God, holds a special place in my life. Four years ago, on January first, my oldest daughter was born.

Celebrating Mary’s motherhood has become a celebration of my motherhood. The obligation of Mass has turned into a thanksgiving for a blessing I didn’t think I wanted. Through our shared feast day, I have come to know the Blessed Mother with a whole new appreciation.

I was never going to get married or have children. There were two main and many other underlying reasons I would have cited, had you asked me all those years ago. All of those “reasons,” though, led back to one thing: my lack of hope.

Reason #1: Why get married when marriage was obviously such an outdated proposition – and one that only left pain when it didn’t work out? My own family was evidence of this, and all around me in the wider world, it seemed that the only marriages that lasted were of my grandparent’s generation, and that was only because they didn’t know any better.

Reason #2: Why bring a child into a world such as ours? I didn’t need to look far to find support for this argument. There was heartache everywhere: rise in crime, increasing abortion rates (people not wanting their children), split homes. The world, as I saw it, was a hostile place. I often thought it was too bad that I was in it.

My reasons were shattered slowly, and my hard heart was softened by the touch of three mothers: my sister-in-law, my mother-in-law, and the Blessed Mother herself.

First, I watched a couple bury another son with grace and dignity. I watched a woman arrange the funeral for her daughter’s son, her grandson. I watched the funeral director with tears streaming down his face. I sat beside the man I would someday marry after he carried himself there, and I watch him still struggle with what was the third small white casket for his family.

Surely, in this grief, there was despair. And yet, what I took away, what I still learn from that experience, was hope. Everyone cried, yes. And then…they comforted each other. They held on to hope. They continue to hope.

Then there was a Mother’s Day Mass the year before I became Catholic. My relationship with my own mother was very fractured at that point, and I was in the midst of a five-year period in which I did not talk to her or communicate with her at all. It was at Mass, as Father was talking about the love Mary has for each of us, how she holds us and comforts us, that I found myself sobbing, shaking and hiccupping and crying in great gulps. I had to go to the back of the church and I was unable to come back in. Afterwards, I was unable to tell anyone what came over me. I didn’t know myself. Looking back, I think Mary must have touched my soul, and my hard heart must have softened enough to let the light of God’s love shine just a bit onto it.

Motherhood is a gift to me now. I am so blessed to be on both ends, receiving and giving. My relationship with my mother has been mended for some years now, and I’m surrounded by other mother-figures in an almost endless community of saints-to-be. Our Blessed Mother walks with me, and comforts me so very often.

As we contemplate Mary, the Mother of God, I find myself viewing my struggles with a more humorous eye, rolling my eyes at my dramatic moments, and finding inspiration in a humble approach to the hardest job I’ll ever hold. When I see the daughter whose birthday we celebrate on this Marian feast, I remember that I’m aiming for Mary in my vocation: to be a little more like the Mother of God each day, drawing closer to Jesus and better cooperating with the grace of God.

Join us tomorrow for more reflections produced by great Catholic New Media personalities as we journey through the 12 Days of Christmas.

1. Send me your feedback on the blog at http://cc.ductapeguy.net by email at (catholicroundup@gmail.com) catholicroundup (at) gmail (dot) com or by calling 206-337-0611.

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Today, Sarah at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering brings us a reflection on Advent Silence

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Sometimes, I get an idea that won’t leave me alone. It will work its way into my prayer time, be the thing that comes to me as I drift off to sleep, come to me at odd times during the day. Just before Advent started, I had this idea that I needed to turn off my iPod.

But…but….but…my protests began, in increasing volume in my head, How will I keep up on those great Catholic podcasts I listen to? How will I pray the spiritual Rosary? How will I…listen to my iPod?

That last might sound ridiculous, and it is what clued me in to the fact that this wasn’t my idea. I would never voluntarily turn off my iPod. In the year that I’ve had it, I do think I’ve become a better Catholic, better educated, and better listened. I have become part of a larger community, and my iPod has easily become my favorite gadget. I listen while I drive, I listen while I work, I listen while I put the baby to bed. It’s the perfect companion for doing dishes, folding laundry, and working out. As near as I can tell, my iPod is perfect.

However, in the year that I’ve had earbuds plugged in, I’ve also had less silence. There hasn’t been the time to be reflective, because those odd moments of nothing-else-going-on have been conveniently filled with a podcast or audio Rosary. Neither of those are bad things in and of themselves, but as I thought more about turning off my iPod for Advent, I came to see the wisdom in it.

I have a tendency to go too far with things, to get addicted. It happened when I got my first laptop and high-speed internet connection. The resulting correction was offline evenings, which restored the balance while not limiting the good I experienced from the online community I was now a part of. I realized, when a few different people made comments to me about my iPod and I responded enthusiastically about my love for it, that things were getting out of balance.

Advent is only four weeks. Four weeks of silence, of listening to the still, small voice that has been drowned out in podcasts and audio books. Four weeks of remembering how I used to pray the Rosary the old-fashioned way, one decade at a time or all at once at the kitchen table, on my fingers or using a guide, in the shower or in the car. Four weeks of preparing for a baby in the best way possible, by slowing down and enjoying life around me.

I’ll be turning my iPod back on, but perhaps, just as I have offline evenings, I will have mute mornings or two show Tuesdays. (Or, possibly, I’ll have something less alliterative.) When I turn it back on, though, I’ll do it with a mind to the silence I’m savoring this Advent.

Join us tomorrow and every day in December for more reflections produced by great Catholic New Media personalities.

1. Send me your feedback on the blog at http://cc.ductapeguy.net by email at (catholicroundup@gmail.com) catholicroundup (at) gmail (dot) com or by calling 206-337-0611.

2. Go to the Catholic New Media Advent Calendar

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Today’s advent surprise, Battling Bah-Humbug, comes courtesy of Sarah at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering.

It’s that time of year again.The stores have started an endless round of Christmas carols and the streets in town are lined with lighted wreaths.  In the evening — which comes earlier and earlier — there are brightly-colored bushes and trees and roofs.  Where never before a personality, suddenly a pop-up Santa and a snow globe rocking horse.

The pressure’s on and the countdown has begun.

I’ve made my list, and I’ve checked it twice to make sure I’ve accounted for the many people we buy gifts for.  I’ve marked catalogs and purchased gift cards and come up with some pretty snazzy photo gifts for grandparents.

I’m left, in the beginning days of Advent, wishing it were all over.  I’m wondering, as we prepare for the joy of the season, where the joy can be found.  I’m tired, on only the second day, and wondering if I could leave the country and return on January 2nd.

Every year, I battle Bah-Humbug.  I find it in the discussion about when we’re going to put up decorations and in the struggle to not see Advent as just the time to get all the details lined up.  I am surrounded by it in the juggle to buy gifts for people I’d like to just spend time with instead.  I grow weary, and it infects me when I’m not looking, filling me with resentment and memories and a longing.

I long for the days of Christmas being about whether it will snow and which of the far-away relatives we’ll spend get to see.  I remember days with less money and more meaning, with less rushing and more spending together, with less cynicism and more belief.  I don’t find those sepia-colored ideals in all of my memories, but I find them when I think about what I would like Christmas to be about and in those memories that I most cherish.

It’s right before Thanksgiving that the Bah-Humbug bites.  Inevitably, in the discussions about food and family, there’s an anticipation about when we’ll celebrate Christmas.  And then we have to discuss who’s going to host.  And then we have to talk about the exchange or the price limit or none of that.

There’s a part of me that just loves buying gifts.  I love finding just the right thing.  The problem is that it’s a big list.  And, inevitably, I just don’t have time (OK, truth time:  I don’t start in July) or energy to do it justice for what I envision in my mind.  (I’m out to solve world hunger, remember?)  Part of the Bah-Humbug is filled with disappointment in my own inability to fulfill my expectations for a slam-bang Christmas gift-giving experience.

My standard reply about Christmas is that I hate it.  But, as my husband has pointed out to me time and again, that’s not true.  That’s the Bah-Humbug talking.

The truth is, I do love Christmas.  I love going to midnight Mass and feeling like it matters that I’m there.  I love holding my husband’s hand in the cold dark air as we walk to the car, with little bodies in our arms, and thinking of the memories we’re making.  I love seeing the living room lit up by only the colored lights on the Christmas tree, and I love the flair we’ll have when I give in and let decorating take place, because we will have a helper who has a style all her own.

My Bah-Humbug problem stems from a priority problem.  I forget what the real reason for this season is.  We’re preparing: our hearts, our lives, our homes.  There’s a baby coming, and there’s a lot to be done.  Maybe we need to cut out some of the noise, slow down some of the bustling, remember how it must have been long ago as Mary and Joseph started a long, cold journey.

This year, instead of wondering where my Bah-Humbug comes from and accepting it as some sort of fate for the season, I’m going to take my own advice.  I’m going to keep my eyes turned toward the star in the sky and think about how much rejoicing there is going to be.  I’m going to sit in the silence with my cup of tea, and I’m going to hold out my hand for Jesus to take it.  Maybe we can walk together through this Advent, hand in hand, toward the endless Christmas Miracle.

Sarah Reinhard lives in Ohio on a small farm with her husband, two children, and various pets and animals. You can read more of her writing at http://snoringscholar.blogspot.com.

Join us tomorrow and every day in December for more reflections produced by great Catholic New media personalities.

1. Send me your feedback on the blog at http://cc.ductapeguy.net by email at (catholicroundup@gmail.com) catholicroundup (at) gmail (dot) com or by calling 206-337-0611.

2. Go to the Catholic New Media Advent Calendar

Subscribe to CNMR (RSS).

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Today’s advent goodie, Being Late for Mass comes courtesy of Sarah at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering.

I hate being late for Mass. In fact, it drives me nuts. My husband is the Master at being On Time, which is defined as not being Too Early and not being Too Late (hence calling it “On Time,” the Voice-that-sounds-just-like-him in my head responds).

We define On Time a bit differently, and in the years of our wedded bliss, I have found myself altering my definition. If we’re walking in during the entrance hymn, I can now still call myself On Time. If, however, everyone is seated (as in after the processional), then we’re Late.

I wonder if Mary ever struggled with this in the mornings when it was time to go to the temple and worship. I get up plenty early, and usually so does my husband. But at some point, the ability to manage our precious getting-ready moments slips right through our fingers. Maybe it has to do with the snuggling toddler; maybe it is a function of weekend wallowing with each other; maybe it’s just poor time management.

We spend all week managing our time, getting the most out of every hour, multi-tasking until we collapse in our bed at night. It seems that Sunday, as a day of rest, should be exempt from that.

But then we’re Late for Mass.

I see Jesus, hanging there on the cross, and feel like I have really let him down by being late to this Banquet Feast that I so need, that I spend the week yearning for. I see the assembly, I hear the music, I feel myself, once again, coming home…but I’m Late.

I have resigned myself to thinking it’s not the end of the world. There are worse things than being a wee bit Late to Mass (like not being there at all, the Voice-that-sounds-just-like-my-husband in my head pipes up).

Even so, my Advent resolution is to be On Time (or, dare I say it, Early) for Mass. If that means I rouse the sleeping hubby twenty minutes earlier, so be it. If that means I don’t get online first thing (*pause for gasping breath*), there will be time later.

After all, Mass won’t wait for me. I have to get there to receive the graces I need to get through my week!

Thanks Sarah for that wonderful reflection.  Join us tomorrow and every day in December for another reflection produced by great Catholic New media personalities.

1. Send me your feedback on the blog at http://cc.ductapeguy.net by email at (catholicroundup@gmail.com) catholicroundup (at) gmail (dot) com or by calling 206-337-0611.

2. Go to the Catholic New Media Advent Calendar

Subscribe to CNMR (RSS).

Subscribe on the Itunes Music Store