I Am a Back Pew Person – You?

Do you know who you are?

I do – and it has nothing to do with my height, my intellect, or my achievements. My perception is not rooted in my hair color, my weight, or my financial statements. It isn’t even based on my family genetics, makeup, or community standing.  Three words can sum up my perception of myself:

I am a back-pew person.

I am most comfortable in the back pew of not only my Church, but any Church. When visiting different churches I always seem to migrate to the back pews for Mass.   I am happiest there, and as a result, I feel more involved.

I am what I am…a back-pew person.

I can hear everything, see everything, and sing with abandon…or not even open the hymnal. No thoughts of whether or not my hair in the back is tangled or disorganized.  No worries if my coat is hanging correctly, or if I have something stuck on the back of my pants.  Collar sticking up?  Shirt not ironed? Old pants that have probably seen better days? Totally irrelevant to why I am there.  I can observe without being seen. I like that.

When I mentioned this to my mother and asked her what she was, she just laughed and said she was a middle pew person.  Being in the back doesn’t afford her the luxury of being surrounded by people of the same faith; having people who believe as she does both in front and behind  gives her comfort.  She enjoys the community-feel of being in the middle – and at her age she doesn’t care about what her backside looks like either.  Plus, an advantage of being a middle pew person is the fact that if my father falls asleep during the sermon she can nudge him before the priest sees (or hears) him, not to mention she has the advantage of observing the young children’s antics during Mass. So for them, being middle-pew people is a win/win.

Then I asked my mom what she considered the personalities of front pew people.  These are the ones who are truly into observing all the details of every Mass.  They are the Eucharistic Ministers, the active participants with duties to uphold.  Front pew people are also the very infirm who cannot see or hear as well as they used to and being in the front pew gives them greater comfort.  Front pew people are also those with very young children; the actions of the priest keep young people focused and less likely to fidget.  And then you have those who sit in the front pew so the priest knows they are actually there.

Of course there are times when I have been a front pew person.  On my wedding day, on my children’s Baptism Day, First Communion Days, and on those days when we had to say goodbye to loved ones at their Funeral Mass…those are all front-pew days.  Happy moments and sad moments – at some point we  all have to be front pew people.  And, likewise, there are times when we will be middle-pew people..part of the crowd, surrounded by others.

But for me, at this time of my life, the back pew is still the best seat in the house.

Copyright 2013 Carol S. Bannon

And he is right. I am basically a happy person, and to be honest, my family is funny! I can always count on one of my five siblings to make me laugh, to help me look at the up-side of a situation instead of the down-side. And, I am happiest when surrounded by other faith filled people. Those in my family who have a firmer grasp on their faith are the ones I seem to turn to when confused, angry, frustrated, and depressed…because of their sunnier nature.

Since faith-filled people live a life with the God at the center of their existence, with a God who has died for them so they may never die, they are free to be happy. When issues arise, as they always do in life, a faith-filled person knows God is there, holding our hands, walking with us. It is a liberating feeling knowing we are never alone. We have a companion who will never desert us. That alone is cause for happiness.

Catholic Church of the Transfiguration on Mount Tabor (run by Franciscans)

May this Second Week of Lent, which was begun with the Reading about the Transfiguration of Our Lord,  be spent  transfiguring our own lives.  May we spread happiness to those we encounter, and may our faith lead the way…because we ARE a happy people and fun to be around.

Mt. Tabor is believed to be the site of the transfiguration of Christ, as detailed in Sunday’s Gospel. Since the sixth century, chapels have been constructed on top of this mountain.  In 1924, the present Church of the Transfiguration was completed and today it is operated by the Franciscans who have lived in a nearby monastery since 1873. Today the Church  is accessible by bike and cabs, and walkers can still use the 4300 steps  built in the 4th century.

Copyright 2013 Carol S. Bannon

We Wait, We Trust, We Believe

We wait, we trust, we believe…those words were the prelude to an Advent Prayer Service for Women which I attended three weeks ago.  At the time, they were a powerful reminder to slow down during the hectic weeks leading up to Christmas.  I thought those six words would prompt me to spend time each day and ponder the mystery of the Nativity. And I felt if I kept those six words close to my heart I would be reminded often that God is in control of all things, and through Him we are given all that we need.

And then the sadness of Sandy Hook Elementary School in CT happened, and I began to feel differently.

We wait…for a time when there is peace on earth, peace in our country, peace in our state, peace on our streets.  We wait for a time when we can once again peacefully discuss issues with our family, friends, and co-workers.   We wait for a time when men of all cultures lay down their arms and instead choose to place their arms around one another.  We wait.

We trust…our politicians want what is best for our country’s future and not what is best for their future.  We trust our fellow citizens want what is best for all people, and not what is best for their particular situation.  We trust things will become better with time, all the while not knowing how much time we may truly have.  We trust.

We believe… God is truly in charge and that His Wisdom will guide our country towards a path of ever greater blessings. We believe when evil such as Sandy Hook occurs God is waiting there to lead us all through. We believe, through Him, all things are possible.

During these final days of Advent, while we finish our holiday preparations, take a moment to remember Sandy Hook.  Say a prayer for the surviving parents who celebrate the birth of Our Savior while mourning the death of their child.  Light a candle for the surviving family members of all the victims who will celebrate the coming of Christ while feeling the pain of total loss.  We cannot take the pain away from them, but we can pray for their pain to be eased in the coming days and years.

We wait in prayerful silence for Our Lord’s coming, we trust God will continue to watch over and bless our country, and we believe that only through Him will we achieve true peace on earth.

Blessings to all and Merry Christmas.

Copyright 2012 Carol S. Bannon

The Secret of Youth

It does not get any better than this – seven days of tag-teaming our very active four-year old grandson, Alex.

Tag teaming because both my husband and I are in our mid-50′s. Tag teaming because this boy has more energy than the two of us put together. Tag teaming because it takes two of us to answer the inquisitiveness put forth on a variety of subjects. In other words, he wore us down with all of his “why” questions …on everything he saw that didn’t make sense in his four-year old world, on every direction we issued.

Why does the pool have to close? Because it became dirty with the rain. Why did it become dirty with the rain? Because when the rain fell from the sky it came down with little germs. Why did it come down with germs in it? Because it went through dirty clouds, the water became “germy” and when it went into the pool the pool water became dirty. Why did it go through dirty clouds?

I am ashamed to say after ten minutes of this give and take, I told him to go ask the pool director…which he promptly did. “Excuse me lady, (kudos to my daughter for her lessons on manner), why is the pool closed?” To which the kind pool director iterated my explanation that there were germs in it. To which he once again asked, “Why are there germs in it?” Smiling, I watched another adult struggle with the simple-minded thought processes of a four-year old mind. No answer was good enough; each answer was queried with another “why” question. It wasn’t until Alex asked her “why don’t you put a cover on the pool so when it rains germs don’t get in the pool” that she looked at me and said, “This boy is going to go far in life”.

Which prompted another round of “why “? “Why am I going to go far grandma?” “Why did she say that Papa?”

As the song goes…”and the beat goes on” … the Why-Boy, as we affectionately call our grandson, was once again the Grand Inquisitor and we were trying mightily to be his all-knowing grandparents.

Later in the evening, when Alex was sleeping soundly and we had a moment to ourselves, we wondered when it happened that the two of us had quit asking questions and just accepted what we saw matter-of-factly. Google, Bing, Ask…all are great websites to go to for answers when needed…but as adults we had lost the desire to ask questions. Don’t get me wrong, I can still rant and rave when things don’t go my way, asking that all-encompassing neurotic question of, “why me Lord”? But for the most part, I take life as it comes and don’t wonder anymore about why cows say moo, why ants like to dig, or why fireflies light up. They just do.

Are we too busy? Too lazy? Too disinterested? Too afraid of the answers? Or have we become numb to the world? Do we turn off the alarm, go about life in remote control, and then, when the day is done, just go to bed and turn on the alarm once again so we wake on time to begin another day? When did our life, we asked each other, become so monotonous that we lost the desire to questions.

That is why our WhyBoy is good for us, at this age, with our energy as low as it is sometimes. He makes us think. He makes us look at the world with new insight. He asks the questions all of us should ask, but seldom do. Why did God make this? Why did God let that rabbit die in the road? Why did He make leaves green and not blue? Why does the sun shine when it is raining? And there is my favorite… why did God make me?
Why indeed did He make us? Why are we handed this imperfect often-times messy slice of time called Life? Each one of us needs to discover for ourselves as to why God made us. For me the answer comes easy. He gave me family, faith, and friends to share space in this world with… to laugh with, to cry with, and to hopefully grow old with because of one reason and one reason only.

God loves me! It is as simple as that.

Copyright 2012 Carol S. Bannon

The Back Alleys of Life

My family had one of those moments out of time last week, when everyone stopped what they were doing in life and came together for the wedding of my niece and goddaughter. From Cleveland, Detroit, Pennsylvania and beyond we gathered on the Cape… Cape Cod, Massachusetts that is…and spent three wonderful days together laughing, dancing, and catching up.

What stood out to me though wasn’t the wedding Mass Liturgy, which was beautiful, or the reception, which was absolutely divine. It was the toast given by the bride’s father, Jeff. My husband looked at me with wonder and just said “he hit that one dead on”; there wasn’t a dry female eye at our table either.

In his toast Jeff reminded his daughter of the European trip he took her on when she graduated from High school. He reminded her of the planning that went into the trip, the places they had discussed that were a “must-see”, the itinerary they spent weeks creating, and the anticipation of traveling through each and every major city in France and Italy.

And then he reminded her of the actual trip highlights. The change in itinerary due to striking workers. The change in tours due to weather conditions. The missed connections, the canceled reservations, the desire to stay longer in one place and skip another due to the fun they were having.

Jeff reminded Kate, and all the guests, about the back alley boutiques she loved to discover off the beaten track. How they skipped eating at a famous Paris restaurant because they had spent so much time at a bistro, sipping cafe au’lait and eating chocolate croissants, watching all the pedestrians walk by. How the impromptu parts of the trip led to the greatest memories and photo opportunities.

Marriage, Jeff told her, was like that. No amount of planning will ever create the perfect marriage. There will always be detours along the way because life itself is not dictated by an itinerary. Some of the best times in marriage are like the impromptu parts of their trip…unplanned, disrupting, sometimes frustrating…but those moments, experiencing and surviving them together, build the foundation of a solid marriage.

Stay strong and united during those times when plans go awry, when life throws you a curve ball and you spin around in circles saying to yourself “what just happened?” the answer is simple: Life!  Life is what is happening.  As unpredictable and frustrating as it is, embrace those detours.  It is crazy, it is unpredictable, it is frustrating to be sure …but the best moments are the unscripted ones.

Jeff was right. The most memorable parts of my marriage were the times our plans took a left turn, and that left turn became something special. All of life is like that if you have the right attitude I believe. Open yourself up to what is in front of you instead of what you want to be in front of you…and go from there.

You will not be disappointed…I promise!

Copyright 2012 Carol S. Bannon 

Let’s Rethink This

There are days when many of us wake, go through the motions of the day, fall into bed at night and never realize all those special “aha” moments.  We have those moments when we notice someone/something needing help, but chose not to intervene because time is short and we must finish what we are doing. Those moments when we ignore God’s nudging and continue doing something in our way because ‘that is how I have always done it’. Or, when we could have seen an easier way, but are too wrapped up in our busy lives to do so.

Days like the one I had today when a mother’s silence says it all.

As usual, I was trying to juggle too many chores…brought on not by circumstance, but by procrastination.  Today was the day I had promised to mail out packages, iron the laundry for the weekend (which had been sitting since Monday), grocery shop for the weekend barbeque (which had been planned for two weeks), and pay the bills (which had been sitting ….) well, you have the picture.

Advising her this morning that I couldn’t talk for long because I needed to mail my packages, she inquired as to why I didn’t just put them in the mail box.  I explained I was out of mailing labels, and needed to run to my office supply store, return home to print the labels, and then head out to the post office because I would have missed the postman.

And that is when mom’s silence took over.  At eighty-four years old she can still make me feel foolish.  “Why”, she asked after a pregnant pause and the “mothers-know-best” voice I remember so well from childhood, “don’t you just drive to the post office with your packages and mail them? Then you are only going out once and you will save yourself time and gas.”

And that is when it hit me! Most of us go through life on auto-pilot.

How many of us attend Mass on Sunday and walk out without remembering the Gospel?  How many of us go through the motions of being Catholic, and never stop to consider why we are Catholic?  How many receive Our Lord in the Eucharist and never stop to consider the truly miraculous gift OF the Eucharist?

Ironically, when someone inquires as to why we are doing something, we are given the opportunity to judge our actions through the eyes of another.  We could react with indignation, anger, or, as in my case, laughter.

I realized the futility of what I was trying to accomplish, and mom’s way was truly easier.  Why do something the hard way when there is an easier way? Why indeed.

That is why I picked up the packages, drove to the post office, and in thirty minutes my number one item had been crossed off my list, thanks to a mother’s intervention.  And I am truly thankful she did intervene because later on, while working in my office, I realized my printer was broken.  I can only imagine the sounds of frustration I would have uttered if I had decided to mail “my way”.

Too many times we are so caught up in the way we do things; we forget why we are doing them in the first place. We become wrapped up in the process and forget the end result. We depend on our rituals to the degree we forget what the rituals are all about.

Sometimes all it takes is another pair of eyes, or ears, to awaken our senses to another way of doing something.

Thanks Mom!

Copyright 2012 Carol S. Bannon

A True Optimist

If you are ever having one of those days when you think you cannot go on – stop and think of a lovely lady I will call Mrs. H.!

She survived the Great Depression. She survived World War II in Germany. She survived leaving everything behind in Germany and immigrating to the United States – legally mind you!

She survived being widowed very young with 4 children. She carried on, exercising every day until her 90s. She has definite opinions about politics, enjoying a lively debate with those who disagree with her…but never making it personal. She is of a generation that puts one figurative foot before the other, uncomplainingly; trusting in the Lord that what will be will be for the best.

Luckily for our family, my brother married Mrs. H’s daughter, and to this day she retains her sense of humor, thoughtfulness for others, and an unflagging optimism that each day can bring something special.

I remember her thoughtfulness every time I bake one of her German desserts. When my brother was dating Mrs. H.’s daughter, she used to send over the most delectable treats for our family; German pound cake and her Apple Tart were my favorites! One day I asked my brother if Mrs. H. was sending him home with desserts for us; he laughingly told me Mrs. H. had “suggested” I learn from her how to make these desserts. I quickly learned baking with Mrs. H. was definitely different than baking with my own Polish grandmother, although both knew how to throw in a “pinch”, dab in a “bit” or add just a “wee bit” of spices. You see, she baked in “foreign” measurements, and back in the 70′s, no other baker I knew did that.

Last week Mrs. H. turned 103 yrs old and is preparing to celebrate the wedding of her granddaughter. When I asked how she was doing he replied “as the saying goes, she is still buying green bananas so I guess that says it all”. Yes, it certainly does.

So, when you truly think you cannot go on, when you think life is just plain unfair, go into a grocery store and think of a 103 year old woman who is still buying green bananas. Pick some up, put them on the counter, and wait. In a few days, both your outlook and the bananas will be sweeter.

Who knows, maybe the secret to a long life depends on being optimistic. Optimistic enough to know you will still be around to enjoy ripe bananas…even at 103 years old.

Copyright 2012 Carol S. Bannon

Yet this year is different. We are being summoned to action, not meditation. This year we are called to go forth and fight for our Church’s, and ultimately all denomination’s, right to Exercise Freely their Conscience. This year we need to gather information to use as ammunition to combat the growing cacophony of calls to force our Church to go against her teachings and not only fund, but ultimately supply, contraceptives, abortifacients, and free sterilization as part of the new Health and Human Services Mandate.

So, instead of attending daily evening Mass last night, I found myself listening to a panel discussion about the HHS Mandate. I found myself scribbling furiously, trying to write down sources and websites to visit, to educate myself on what is to come if this mandate is allowed to stand. More importantly I found myself surrounded by my fellow Catholics, who are ready to answer the call of the bishops.

I discovered that 20% of all healthcare institutions are run by Catholics. I was reminded of the thousands of children who were adopted through the Catholic Adoption Centers only to have them close one by one because certain organizations demanded the Catholic Adoption Centers allow couples of the same sex to adopt children. And I learned that the US Department of Health and Human Services, under Kathleen Sibelius, has reclassified pregnancy as a disease under the Pregnancy Discrimination Act of 1978.

My four children are the byproduct of a “disease”? I was “suffering” the effects of a disease when I experienced morning sickness, saw the ultrasound picture for the first time, and when my weight ballooned to….well, that’s not important is it? HHS and Kathleen Sibelius, believe it was the “disease” of pregnancy, four times over, and not God, that gave me the four wonderful caring individuals who love me, care about me, and who call me by that beautiful name – Mom!

So it was with pride that I stood in the basement of our Church and listened to those who educated us about the future of Catholic institutions such as Catholic Charities, Catholic universities, and Catholic hospitals in America if this mandate is allowed to stand as written, without any changes, contrary to the words of our president who said he had made “accommodations” for the Catholic Church. It was with pride that I realized our Church is standing strong in its pursuit of the Respect for Rights of Conscience Act now before the Senate. And it is with complete confidence in His Divine Intercession we will be stand united, with our priests and bishops, as we uphold the Constitution of the United States.

Those four wonderful byproducts of “pregnancy”, and their children, deserve no less.

We have prepared many times for the coming of Our Lord Jesus Christ to rise on Easter Sunday; now it is time to prepare cohesive, well thought out arguments during the next few months as the country discusses this issue. Visit the links I have provided and educate yourselves. Listen to the other side. The Holy Spirit will guide all of us as we strengthen and unite in defense of the most basic tenet of our faith – the sanctity of life and the rights of all faithful to act in accordance with their conscience.

Happy Easter to all – and God bless.

What we can do to stop the HHS Mandate:

Share the fact sheet found on www.standupforreligiousfreedom.com

Call 202-224-3121 – ask your Congressman and both U.S Senators to support legislation overturning the HHS Mandate.

Vote for candidates who respect freedom of religion and freedom of conscience.

Visit the website above and sign onto this effort. Learn how we can work together to stop the HHS Mandate

Copyright 2012 Carol S. Bannon

I love to have the refrigerator shelves shining so glass containers are reflected whenever the door is opened.  Seeing all of my stainless steel appliances gleaming… free of those never ending fingerprints and crusted-on food…makes me happy.  Baseboards, cupboards, linen closets – sometime during Lent I will happily tackle each and every one of them.  Holy Thursday may arrive without total success in the spring cleaning detail…but I will try.

During Lent is also the time I  check to see if any houseplants need to be repotted, pruned, or given a timely funeral.  Pluck out the dead stems, soak the roots of those plants doing the forward yoga bend, and actually spread fertilize around the base.  As you can probably tell, my hands are void of anything resembling a green thumb…but I will try!

I know my home will never truly be clean for more than one day…unless both of us are away for an extended period of time.  There is no such thing as a spotless home for this happily married well-adjusted couple.   Hasn’t happened in thirty-four years and never in any of the four homes we have owned.  But during Lent…I will try.

The same goes for my other Lenten Goals.   Each day, for the next 40 days, my goals will be stretched, bent, reordered, redefined, and sadly, sometimes forgotten.  And that is why Lent is the best time of the year for me.  Like my houseplant skills and housekeeping skills, there is always room for improvement.   More importantly, I have learned over the years to forgive myself for not living up to the goals I set for myself.  But during Lent…I will try.

And every year I get to try to be just a little bit better than the year before.

I tried to teach my children never to set Lenten abstinences, penances, or “goals”   for selfish reasons – although my abstinence from chocolate and wine one time made my scale register numbers not seen in years.   We set them to remind us that the “things” we come to value, to look forward to, during the course of the year can sometimes stop us from doing better.

Abstain from TV?  Spend the time saved helping around the house, doing a special chore.  Abstain from snacking during the day?  Spend those minutes you would have spent snacking praying the rosary or reading the Bible.  Abstain from eating out on a Friday night?  Attend the Stations of the Cross at your Church.  Abstain from gossiping?  Spend the time spreading the Good News of the Lord.  Abstain from blogging or writing on Facebook?  Write a  letter or card,  with paper and pen,  to your grandparents or friend.

Lent is that special time when we can clean out the everyday minutes of our lives and replace them with time spent closer to God.  Minutes devoted to listening to what He wants us to hear…not what we turn on, tune into, plug into, or read.  Minutes we can turn to  Easter Sunday, reflect on, and realize how truly precious time can be.

Will I sometimes fail this year?  If history is any kind of indicator, chances are fairly high this Lent will not be the perfect, gleaming, stainless steel kind of Lent I envisioned on Ash Wednesday.   But having the vision is important.  It is my roadmap to Easter.  I begin here and hope to end up there.  Luckily, due to prior experience, if I detour a bit I know exactly how to get back on the path.

Time on earth is a gift God gave each of us.  During Lent, it is truly fitting we use some of that time becoming closer to Him.   At the very least….we need to try.

Copyright 2012 Carol S. Bannon

Instead of resolving to lose these extra pounds, become better organized, exercise more, or any of the other hundreds of resolutions I have made over the last few decades…which then fall to the wayside by the end of March…I have decided to make one simple promise to myself. I will just enjoy what God has given me and give thanks to Him daily for that gift.

Too many times I feel we go through the motions of the day, doing what we need to do based on our responsibilities… never seeing what we are doing or what we have. And, in my case, it is because I am in list-checking-off-mode.

You see, I love making lists. They make me feel in control. They give me order. They give me direction. In short, I think I am addicted to the feeling I get when I see a long list of “things” I feel I need to do.

When I make a list in the morning, always with that second cup of coffee – not the first – I know the day has begun. Then I place it within sight, next to the pencil (I prefer a sharp pencil over a pen for some reason), and proceed to write down what I want to accomplish for that day. I love the feeling of crossing off an item. It is such a pat on the back, a feeling of accomplishment. Pack away decorations? Did that – so cross it off! Schedule bills to be paid? Did that – cross it off! Clean bathrooms? Done – so cross it off! Return those gifts I didn’t need? Done – so cross it off!

And, if an item doesn’t get done, all the better….because then I have something to add to my list for the next day! Life is good, life is orderly, and life marches on. This is what I term my “list-checking-off mode”. I become so focused on the minutiae of the day, to the written words on my to-do list, I miss out on God’s wonderful gift of Life! Or, in other words, I find myself more in Martha-Mode than in Mary-Mode.

So I did not make out a list of resolutions. Instead, I made a simple promise to God. I will remember each day is His gift to me. Instead of seeing piles of papers to be filed, and subsequently checked off my list, I will look at the sun beams making a pattern on my desk and know that a beautiful day is waiting me after I finish my job. Instead of checking a list to see what rooms need to be cleaned, I will thank God I have a home to clean. Instead of reading the items remaining to be done on a list, I will look at where I am and just do what needs to be done, thanking God I have the ability to do so.

In other words, in 2012 my promise to God, to myself, will be to try very hard to live in this moment. I will try remembering to lift my eyes away from the daily self-assigned tasks and see all of today’s little miracles. And, if I write these little miracles down in every evening, in place of my usual morning to-do-list, how much richer will my life be January 1, 2013? Will I become more Mary-like? I guess that remains to be seen.

Copyright 2012 Carol S. Bannon

If I were to face Jesus right now, this instant, and He asked me “What would you have me do for you?” I fear I would begin my answer with “well, now that you asked”, and then start iterating my bullet list:

• Give me patience with people I disagree with and are always asking me for help.
• Give me the courage to start that new project I’ve been putting off for a year already
• Give my family blessings so they can be comfortable in today’s world.
• Give me the power to help my family conquer their demons
• Give me the tools to speak my mind and not be intimidated by those richer, smarter, prettier, or who seem more “with it”.
• Give me the means to greater financial security.

Gimme, gimme, gimme….I want I want I want….I used to tell my children how tiring it was to hear this from them all the time.  I cannot begin to imagine how I must sound sometimes when I pray.

And then I heard the answer the blind man from Jericho replied to Our Lord’s query: “Lord that I may see”.

How utterly simplistic, and yet truly empowering!

• Lord, that I may see where other people are coming from.
• Lord, that I may see how my new project will benefit others.
• Lord, that I may see the many blessings you have already bestowed on my family
• Lord, that I may see the true me, the me you have imprinted on the palm of Your Hand
• Lord, that I may see You working through the trials of my family members.
• Lord that I may see how rich my family already is, because we trust in You and believe in You.

Thank you St. Luke once again for your guidance on how best to live a life that is Christ-centered and not  “me-centered”.   We are never too old to learn something new from the very same stories we have heard over and over again since we were young because our faith is alive!   No matter what stage in life we are at, there is always something new to be learned if we take time to listen to God’s Word.

If we make the commitment to truly “see” what God has given to us, and what He has in store for us.  Lord, let me see.

Copyright 2011 Carol S. Bannon

As with most mornings,  my first thought was to let the dog out, grab a cup of coffee, turn on the morning news to see how bad the world is starting out (never said I wasn’t a tad bit pessimistic), and then get ready for the day.  That means saying my first prayer of the day – my Novena to St. Joseph for my children, Chaplet of Divine Mercy for my children, or the Rosary for my children…If nothing else, I am consistent with my prayers for my children.

But as I was opening the door to let the dog out, I caught my ankle, bled all over my white carpet, said a few words loud enough to scare my dog, then grabbed a band aid and started to clean up the stain..or tried to.  Going for that coffee I discovered too late my cream had gone bad…nothing worse than seeing curds in that first cup of coffee. I decided to skip the morning news and went right to the Chaplet of Divine Mercy.

Today, saying my prayers, I looked at the band aid on my ankle…and that’s when it hit me.

How many times growing up did we ignore our parents until we needed them to put a band aid on our problems?  I remember running out the screen door on a summer afternoon oblivious to any words my mom said – but when I skinned my knees falling off my bike she was the one I would run to.  And the band aid would come on.

There were times when I would run into the surf and cut my foot on a clam shell.  The next minute I’d be running back up to the shore crying to my parents.  They’d dry my tears, clean the cut, and put on a band aid.   Most times I would be a tad bit more careful for a while - but without fail, I’d be right back out there running headlong into another wave without care. That is until I once again became injured and needed another band aid.

Lucky for me,  my parents were always there to pick me up and put another one on.

How many times do we, as adults,  run to God for a Band aid? How many times does He provide that Band aid,  we are thankful, and we remain close to Him – until we  run right back into our Life?  I am guilty of doing that more times than I can count – although I know He knows how many band aids I have asked for over the years.  And yet, He is always there with another when I need one.

We are His children alright…always asking for a Band aid for our hurts, our pain, our needs.  Thank you God for being there!  We are so blessed.

Copyright 2011 Carol S. Bannon

This is why growing up in my family we would hurl one distinct phrase whenever one of us started complaining how hard they worked in comparison to someone else… we would tell that person to  ”Stop being a Martha!”   Complain about doing too many chores – you were a Martha.  Moan because you had to iron while the others watched TV - you were being a Martha.  If you had to stay home and babysit Jimmy, the baby of the family, while your other siblings went out and had fun – you were a Martha!

Do not misunderstand me…I was usually the one doing the taunting, calling my sisters Martha, and not the other way around. In fact, from my perspective as a middle child, being part of a large family was great. I could sneak under our parent’s radar, something I did often.

If I didn’t want to do something such as mow the lawn, pull the weeds, or hang the clothes, I pulled the “I don’t think I’m big enough to do that” card out, and presto – the job went to my older brother and sister!  Or, if my parents wanted someone to pick up the toys, stack the dishes, or set the table I would pull out the   ”Isn’t it time the little ones learned how to do that” card.  Nine times out of ten, one of those would work and I could blithely go on my way.  Compared to my two sisters Sharon and Jeannie, one older and one younger, my Martha-days were not often.

Then the big change occurred.  I got married and had four wonderful and unique children.  I became the “stay at home mom”, the “I’ll volunteer for anything Mom”, the “I’m happy if you do it my way Mom.”  Since my husband travelled extensively, I began to relate to Martha in ways I never had before.  I worked hard to keep a clean house, and no one appreciated it. I spent days doing laundry, and they couldn’t even put them away.  I began to appreciate Martha’s feelings of self-pity and resentment.

Slowly but surely, I became a (gasp) Martha!

To be honest, even with my children grown and out of the house, my Martha-side continues overriding my Mary-side.  My husband just can’t seem to clean the kitchen the way I want it done, make the bed to my specifications, or organize the files they way they should be organized. In other words, he isn’t doing it My Way!

That is why when Lent 2011 began I resolved to do something positive.  I am going to pray He guides me in my quest to be a Mary, and to temper my Martha behaviors – especially the “I know best” attitude I usually convey to my loved ones. I will listen to what Jesus is trying to teach me, just as Mary did so long ago.

I will not worry about the minuscule details of my adult children’s lives.  I will be there when they need me, but I do not want to know everything when it comes to who they are seeing, their squabbles with each other, or which venue they plan to visit on a Friday night in Boston. I will try harder to place my trust in the Lord, and leave the worrying to Him.  He has much broader shoulders than me, and He implores us to not “worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (Matt. 6:34)

I am ready to rest at His feet.

I will also try to temper my tendency to pout and stomp about the house when my “better half” decides to spend the evening doing office work.  Instead, I will take those hours as a blessing from Him.  I will sit down without guilt and do something that will bring me satisfaction…even if it is going to bed an hour earlier with a cup of hot cocoa, cookies, and a good book.  Maybe I can regain perspective, and in the process become more thankful for a spouse with character, who is well respected, and who knows that a job worth doing is worth doing right.

I want to face the moments of my days when I am buried under a mountain of self-doubt, debt, and despair as a Mary! I will take a deep breath, close my eyes, and picture my life bereft of all that I possess.   I will remember that every moment of my life is a gift from God and everything I have has been made exclusively for me… my husband, my parents, my children, my grandchild, my friends, and yes – even my siblings. All He asks in return is for me to love Him.

Being a Martha means my thoughts are centered on me.  Becoming more like a Mary will center my thoughts always on Him…and that is where my thoughts need to be.  Only then will I find peace.

Copyright 2011 Carol S. Bannon

“Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.”–Matt. 18:3

Lately, this particular piece of Scripture has been working its way through my consciousness.

Of course, it may have something to do with having just returned from an impromptu visit with my daughter and “almost three year old” grandson…a nine hour car journey on Interstate 90, from Massachusetts to Ohio.  For some reason, after spending 6 days with Alex, on the drive home this quote seemed to pop into my head and I began wondering.

Does God admonish us to be childlike in our love for Him?  Children love unconditionally and totally.  They laugh with abandon, and find joy in the simplest things.  Reaching out their arms, they beg to be lifted high, swung around until they are dizzy, and when placed on the ground shout for more.  More Grandma, higher Grandma, do it again Grandma.  They are always ready for “one more” of everything.

Exhausting?  Well, let me just say I slept like a child every night I was there.

Another charming characteristic of an “almost three year old” is their propensity to ask questions…especially the question of why.  Why do mommies work?  Why do birds fly?  Why do I have to sleep?”  We all have, at one time or another, been on the receiving end of this type of interrogation, answering with the most direct answers.  Mommies work to earn money.  Birds fly because it is faster than walking.  You have to go to sleep because WE are tired.

Following this chain of thought on my drive home I thought about all my own “why” queries for God, and wondered about the answers.  For example:

Why, if You gifted me with the ability, and love, for playing the piano, you didn’t throw in long fingers, a musical ear, and a photographic memory?

Why did I have to have a milk allergy…especially one that kicks in when I eat ice cream? (I think I know that answer to this one, but I’ll wait to hear it from Him)

Why was I born the middle child instead of the first born, or better yet, the youngest?

Why were the obstacles I have had to overcome placed so high, in my humble estimations mind    you?

Why did You see fit to give my husband another job so far away from family? Minnesota was nice, but it was hard being away from my family.  Why did you do that?

Why couldn’t my life have been just a tad bit easier?

Why must my children always learn life’s lessons the hard way?

I am sure every one of us has “why” questions we cannot wait to ask the Lord…questions that we keep deep in our hearts.  Simple questions we revisit every now and then when we are feeling low, burdened, or as my mother would say “feeling sorry for ourselves”.

And then, about thirty minutes from home,  I recalled something else Alex kept repeating over and over. Whenever I said we had to pick up his toys to make mommy happy, his response would be “You are right Grandma”.  Or, when I told him he needs to brush his teeth so they stay nice and white, he would say “You are right”.  We need to put on our coats because it is cold outside… “You’re right Grandma, you’re right”.   No argument, just pure acceptance that the reason we did something was because it was the right thing to do.

Maybe our “why” questions to the Lord need no other answer than the one Alex gave me last week.

“Whatever the reason is Lord… You are right, You are right.”

And we should just leave it at that.

Copyright 2011 Carol S. Bannon

Granted, coming from my husband who is more taciturn than I, I am not offended.  Coming from his mother Lillian, who at the time she made this observation was fighting lung cancer and grieving over the recent death of her husband, no offense was taken.  In fact, two years later, I still chuckle when I remember that day. The two of us were sitting at her kitchen table, sorting through piles of correspondence she had collected over the years, and I was keeping up a steady stream of conversation about Alex, her first great-grandchild and my first grandchild.  She stopped sorting, poured us both another glass of wine, looked me in the eye and said with complete sincerity – “you love to talk don’t you dear?”

Mind you, Mom and I have known each other since I was 15 years old and I have been married to her son for 32 years.  Over this span of time we had spent countless hours together in this same kitchen, drinking coffee, tea…and other adult beverages… discussing a range of issues.   So, when she made this observation I burst out laughing because it is true – I do love to talk. It was the way I was raised, and, since Cliff’s mom was a great listener, it was a win-win for both of us.

Now of course it has become a family joke.  My brother-in-law will stop in the middle of a phone conversation and say “wow, Mom was right.  You do love to talk”.  Or I will do the “you know how much I hate to talk, but since you asked” routine, and everyone chuckles.  Yet, when all is said and done, even my husband has told me more than once he wishes his family had been more vocal.

Growing up with five siblings as I did, you had to speak up or risk getting left behind… which did happen a few times.   You had to make a quick grab for that last hot roll in the bread basket, run fast to get a window seat in the station wagon, and be first out the screen door before Mom could yell  ”wait, you need to do this”.  Cliff on the other hand grew up in a family with only two siblings.  Where mine was loud, his was quiet.  Where mine was active, his was sedate.  Where mine would routinely interrupt another’s conversation to make a point, his would very politely wait their turn.  And where my siblings loved to do things together and talk constantly to one another, his rarely took the initiative to communicate.

After we married, our own family dynamics mirrored more closely the type of family I grew up with, although there were times during our children’s teen years when I could truly appreciate why Lillian preferred not to speak her mind.    Many fights could have been avoided if I had just kept quiet and not mentioned to a daughter that her choice of friends left much to be desired.  Or not voiced my opinion about my son’s choice of music which to this day I still think is inappropriate.   Or if I had not complained when laundry was left on the floor, dishes were left in the family room, and bedrooms were left in chaos. Our home could have been more peaceful if I had done what Lillian did – she kept quiet about her opinions and did the chores herself.

But that is not me.  I believe verbally expressing oneself is never wrong if done correctly…something I am still trying to perfect after all these years.  But communication is the key to understanding others and having   others understand you.  Without communication there is no chance of dialogue; there can be no sense of family without person to person contact.   Luckily for us, our children all speak their minds and have no problem with communication.

Although they are separated by hundreds of miles, our children talk regularly to one another…truly talking to one another.   When my husband and I were out of the country recently, Derek, our youngest at 22 years old, said the four of them became quite good at “playing Mom”   When I asked what he meant by that comment he laughed and said they would call one another at odd times of the day or night and start off the conversation by asking the typical Mom question – “Are you still alive”?

Their sense of humor comes from their father.

As a mother though  I am proud we raised a family that knows the importance of verbal communication, especially in today’s technological world where the impersonal form of communication is becoming more and more the norm.  I also consider ourselves lucky to have raised our family before this juggernaut of technological advances became available because today’s parents are faced with unprecedented challenges.    In just one generation the landscape upon which a family is built has been altered; most notably, the means by which they keep in contact with one another.

Email has made the art of letter writing almost extinct.  Birthday cards and thank you notes no longer require a trip out to the mailbox…they are being sent out electronically more and more. Texting is usurping real conversations, not to mention rewriting the English language.  IMHO (in my humble opinion), r u 4 real (are you for real), and LOL (not lots of love like I originally thought it meant when my daughter texted me; it means lots of laughs) have become the lexicon by which people communicate today.  Facebook and other social media outlets are giving our youth a false sense of belonging.

This current generation believes they are more plugged into life, but in truth they are becoming increasingly disconnected from humanity.  You cannot understand how a person truly feels when reading a text message.  If your ears are being bombarded with artificial noise from an IPod, you cannot hear the sounds of real life around you…the tears, the laughter, the anxiety, the surprise.  If you spend hours alone, tweeting about your daily activities, you miss out on sharing your life with real people who truly care about you.

And, if you do not spend time with those who love you, talking to them while they sort through the written correspondence collected during a lifetime, you will miss out on truly hearing how much you yourself are treasured.  You miss out on seeing the understanding, the compassion, and the pain in knowing how fleeting time truly can be.  You miss out on God’s gift of Life, His gift of Love.

“You love to talk don’t you dear?”

“As much as you enjoyed listening Lil.  Thank you.  I loved you too…very much!”


Copyright 2010 Carol S. Bannon

Come to think about it – why would an Angel perch on the right shoulder?  Was this some kind of moral subliminal indoctrination into Right versus Wrong?  Right versus Left?   And even in the cartoon shows I watched as a child, the devil angel with a pitchfork was always on the left shoulder, and the Angel with a halo was always on the right shoulder.  Interesting! I do believe I will watch a few more cartoons with my grandson to see if this is still true.

So, I grew up knowing without a doubt there was a God who lived in Heaven, Jesus Christ who died for me, and I would go to Heaven when I died if I was “good”.  And, I believed wholeheartedly my Guardian Angel was watching every move I made.  He was the voice in my head saying “don’t do that” when I was considering shoplifting bubble gum from Mr. Al’s candy counter, or hiding my older sister’s glasses in the apple basket, or throwing my brother’s shoes down the laundry chute so he wouldn’t be the first one out the door.

My Guardian Angel has a very soft voice.  He could have spoken up a tad bit louder back then and kept me from getting grounded so often.  I was not necessarily a very good listener at seven years old.  As I grew older though, I discovered a greater ability to hear my Guardian Angel’s subtle suggestions.  Some would say it is the maturation of the conscience and part of the development of our brains.  I prefer knowing someone has my back.

In addition to having a Guardian Angel, God also gave me many other gifts to help in this journey called Life.  Not only was I raised in a large loving family, I have been blessed with both a wonderful husband whose love for me is unquestionably God’s greatest blessing and four lovely unique children…who are now quite well into what they consider their adult years. …but who are still my “kids”.   Nothing puts life in perspective more than being a Mom…especially when those darling babies , who want nothing more than to be held and sung to, morph into secretive teenagers who don’t want to be around you anymore, and then  grow into young adults who once again want to hang out with Mom.

Many times I’d find myself repeating my mom’s favorite words of wisdom, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.  Save your energy for the big stuff. The big problems will come whether you are ready for them or not.”  Truer words were never spoken. Even though my children are grown, I still find myself categorizing my worries/problems into big ones versus small.  It helps.

My siblings, three brothers and two sisters, are also an integral part of my life; each and every one has been there for support and counsel, laughter and fun.    All of them are a blessing from God, put here in our family for a specific purpose.   In our own way, we are like God’s gift of a Guardian Angel …we watch out for each other, we worry about each other, and  we have each other’s back.

There were times though, when I pictured our various Guardian Angels standing around with their hands over their ears, shaking their heads, and moaning at all the bickering we used to do.  Or the times I would imagine my Guardian Angel saying “Your brother is not being very nice. Go tell your mother.”   I would hurry off to tattle on him, feeling very holy and self-righteous.  I guess I may have deserved the family title of Snitch.

One sibling in particular is younger, though not by much, and she has helped me weather many storms.  She is the one I can turn to when I need to let off steam about my husband, children, politics, and associates.  She is the one I turn to when I find myself completely frustrated with other family members or consumed with doubts about a decision I have made.  When I get an idea in the middle of the day, she is the one I bounce it by knowing she won’t spare my feelings.  Some people may feel the need to be diplomatic when asked to give an opinion; Jeannie is not one of those.

All in our family have experienced Jeannie’s gift of telling it like it is…no sugar coating, thank you very much.  I still remember when she and her family drove 24 hours straight to celebrate Thanksgiving in my new home.  She is the spatial designer, but I thought I would surprise her and have it all done before she came, even though decorating is not one of my strong points. The first thing she did was laugh and say, “Oh my gosh, I am so glad I came!” And then she did what she does best…she took what was in our house and transformed it into a home.

She may live far away in distance, but she is the closest to me in faith and temperament. Over the years we have shared many adventures and dreams.  Before she began her job working at their Parish school and office, we would talk every day for hours as we cleaned our respective homes.  Many times we would be thinking about the same thing or working on a similar problem.  She is the one I turn to when I need to have another pair of eyes to pour over something I have written.  We even wrote a Christmas book, together with our older brother, about a Christmas tradition begun by our father.

I love my husband dearly, but there is no substitute for having a sister who thinks like you do, shares similar dreams, and is there for you unconditionally. She is the one who remembers who you were before you were grown.  She is the one who backs you up when you claim your grandparents kept ducks in the basement for Duck Soup.  No idea is too crazy to share with each other.  No worry is too big that cannot be sliced and diced into manageable pieces with each other.  No complaint is too petty not to share with each other.

When you have a sister to laugh with you, not at you, life is so much fun.  When you have a sister you can call at any hour for help, life is more secure.  And, when you have a sister to share your faith with, life is a complete blessing.

Please, let me introduce my “younger” sister Jeannie.  I know you will enjoy getting to know her.

Good Morning Catholic Moms,

For many months now, my sister Carol has been asking (or more to the point – pestering me) to write a few words to all of you.  She is a columnist with Catholic Mom and author of A Handshake From Heaven and Our Family’s Christmas Elf. Since I offer my assistance and edit some of her writings, she believes I should be writing as well.

It has been a long time since I penned, or I should say, typed any personal piece.  I keep telling Carol (and my husband) that I don’t write because I haven’t “found my voice” yet… whatever that means.   I’m not sure either, but it sounds good – doesn’t it?  (Please take my side on this one!)  But, to keep my sister quiet (ok, off my back because she is extremely persistent), I thought I better say at least a short hello to all of you.  It has to be short, since I leave for work in thirty minutes.   So, Carol – here it is:

First of all, I assume you would like to know my name.  That is easier said than done. I have many names I answer to and it depends on who you were with or where we met that determines the name you call me.  Since it is Carol requesting this piece, I will use the name she calls me by…Jeannie. So, hello! I am Jeannie, the reluctant writer who has a sister who can be a pest.

I am married to this great guy who only has one name, no nickname; he is just called Hank.  Truthfully though, I guess you can say he does have another name – that would be Dad.  The Lord blessed me with this wonderful man.  Do you know the song (I am awful with titles) that has a line in it that goes, “God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you”?  If you don’t, go to ITunes or wherever on the web and search for it.  This is our song.  I still sit back some days and am amazed at God’s plan.  If we both had not made so many wrong choices we never would have found each other.

Is it not amazing how God works?  Hank uses the word unfathomable in a prayer he recites every day as he drives to work.  We just do what God wants because to us His Plan is unfathomable.  I really need to use that word more myself.   Try it sometime when you are overwhelmed or overjoyed at something in your life.  You will be surprised how it puts things in perspective.

How the heck are we to know what He wants?  We don’t. We really don’t. We just need to “Let Go and Let God”.

The other members of my small family consist of two daughters and a son.  I say this is a small family because Hank and I both come from the 1950/60 typical large-sized Catholic family.  He grew up with six siblings and I grew up with five.  If we had met earlier in life we might have mimicked our parent’s family size considering we were expecting our first child by our first anniversary.

So, there we are – your typical Catholic Christian family of five who try to make it through the day with the Grace of God.  It’s a very happy life filled with laughter, challenges, and whole lot of love.  I hope and pray your life is just as blessed if not more.

Take care of yourselves and your loved ones.

Peace always,

Jeannie

PS  Carol, so, are you going to stop pestering me now?


Copyright 2010 Carol S. Bannon

In this article, he wants to know where civility went.  Well, having grown up in a middle class Catholic family of eight, during the sixties mind you, I have some answers for him.

First and foremost, when society deems one’s feeling of self-worth  more important than following God’s Commandments, civility takes a beating.

I cannot tell you how many times our parents would admonish us not to argue, hit, shout, or be mean to one another  because it was wrong, or in Catholic-speak, a sin.  I do not think I ever heard my mother sweetly suggest “Honey, why don’t you stop doing that? You are not being very nice”.   No, my mother would sternly state, “Stop that right now!   Stay in your room until you can behave”.    Big difference!

And, if my parents heard any of us making fun of someone else because of their appearances or because they sounded different, not only were we dragged away by our elbows and forced to stay inside the house, they would instantly remind us how people often abused and laughed at Jesus.  By their words and  actions our parents taught us to live as Jesus did, and to try to avoid doing anything that Jesus would frown upon.  Not only would these types of acts make Him sad (read – Catholic guilt), we would need to keep track of it for our next visit to the confessional and Father Kenny (read – Catholic fear).  Incentives abounded for us to act right.

Secondly, when society deems it unacceptable to talk about God and His Word in civil discourse, civility becomes a nicety, not a necessity.    Communication is reduced to sound bites, slogans, shouts, and vulgarity.

Did we ever hear our father use vulgarity when we were young?  Of course!  We grew up knowing two languages existed… Dad’s language, usually reserved for the garage and workroom, although there were a “few” instances of his peppery language during long road trips, and then there was the “proper way” to talk.  Were we allowed to use Dad’s language?  Never, and if one of his words accidently slipped out, our parents did not think it was cute. Rather, dad’s language being used by one of us always resulted in the use of the ever handy Ivory Soap, which by the way does not taste very good.

In addition, our grandfather repeatedly told us the way to sound intelligent was to never use vulgarity. He firmly believed the use of vulgar words was a sign of illiteracy.   We grew up knowing every vulgar word had at least ten acceptable synonyms; if we wanted to be perceived as being intelligent, we used these words.  But, at some point in our society,   vulgar and rude language became the norm; it is even seen as being funny!    Children and teens hear their sports idols, their Hollywood idols, and their favorite musicians using this type of language in interviews, movies, and songs.  These “American Idols” give tacit approval to our youth that this type of language is acceptable.  And a Catholic parent’s job is made even more difficult.

Finally, when society no longer allows prayer to be said on school campuses, ridicules politicians who publicly state faith is the center of their being, and passively accepts bad behavior, “as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone”, civility is replaced with narcissism.

Civility, public and private, is the direct outcome of living by God’s Commandments.  When these Commandments are no longer the center of the family, there can be no family. When God is no longer the center of one’s community, there is no real community.  And when God and His Commandments are not the center of our country, public civility is lost.

For Catholic families the job is made more difficult by today’s lack of focus on God and His teachings.  Mr. Pitts Jr. and all other public figures in the media, entertainment world, and political arena could make our job so much easier if they would once again begin to draw negative attention to those who abuse God’s Laws instead of making heroes out of them.  Or, as the First Commandment commands:

“‘I am the LORD your God… You shall have no other gods before Me.‘

You want to know what happened to civility Mr. Pitts Jr.?  I would advise you it is still out there.  There are many families in America who still live by the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule.  These are not relics; they are our way of life.   Furthermore, our country did not “lose” its civility; we threw it away in the name of entertainment, fame, and the desire to feel good about ourselves.

Maybe it is time those in positions that influence our youth remember and live by God’s Words once again.  Maybe it is time for everyone to remember there is a difference between our “rights as Americans” and doing the “right” thing.  Maybe it is time for all of us to stop, turn our eyes toward Heaven, and say in one voice “God help us, for we know not what we do”.

Copyright 2010 Carol S. Bannon

Tossing and turning, glancing at the clock every hour on the hour, becoming frustrated with oneself because of the never ending list circulating in your mind….insomnia is not fun.   You name it, and I have lost sleep over it; worries about money and bills, upcoming travel plans, worries about my children…even when my “children” are grown with children of their own.  Why else would there be aisles in CVS and Walgreens filled with teas, tonics, and pills created solely to ensure a good night’s rest?  I have wandered those aisles, and purchased many of the promised aids, frequently over the years.

This time though, my sleeplessness has nothing to do with any of the above.  It has everything to do with my inability to say no.

Do not misunderstand me.  I can say no to most “things” such as when a certain someone asks if we could use a larger television set, or do I want to go out to dinner instead of cooking, or  do   I mind if he replaces his golf clubs.   Those are all simple questions and as such do not warrant a lengthy inner debate about the pros and cons.

“No, our current television set is working just fine thank you very much.”

“No, I really don’t feel like getting dressed up to go out to dinner”.

“No, I do not mind if you want to replace those 20 year old clubs with a newer set.”

The golf club request was by far the easiest one in recent years, and it is not because he has perfected the art of framing a question to his benefit.  He works very hard and has delayed purchasing a new set for a variety of  plausible reasons…college education for four children, orthodontist bills for three of them, and of course a beautiful home with two functioning automobiles.  Plus, it doesn’t hurt that I am actually beginning to enjoy playing golf myself.

In fact, saying no to those closest to me is easy.  Saying no to acquaintances who ask for my help is not so easy.

My husband, who sleeps like a baby most nights and has tried to help me with my “problem” ,  will tell  me to just drop whatever is causing me to become agitated and go on to something else.  Most times I get angry at him for what I consider his cavalier attitude about my responsibilities, which leads to him becoming frustrated with me for allowing situations to grow out of control.  In hindsight, most of our arguments over the years have centered on this Ring-Around-the-Rosy Roulette.  I’ll complain about a situation, he’ll tell me to walk away from it, I’ll get frustrated because he doesn’t “understand” why his solution is ill-advised,   he’ll  retort  “so don’t ask me what I think”, and I will walk away angry that he didn’t listen to my problems.  Ah the joys of married life.

Commiserating to my mother didn’t help either.  In fact, concerning this matter they are both in complete agreement.   I need to drop my current project if I want to once again enjoy a good night’s sleep.  It is taking time away from my family and from the things I truly enjoy doing.

Sitting in my darkened family room at 3:00 A.M, sipping my “Sleepy-Time” tea, I finally acknowledge that both of them are right.  I do have problem.

I agree to do something I thought I wanted to do, and when it becomes apparent I am being taken advantage of,  or it starts interfering in my family’s life, or it becomes a distraction from what I truly enjoy doing,  it is hard for me to say “Enough”!  And then I become angry – subconsciously at first, until it finally snowballs into my consciousness sometime around 3 A.M.   And then I’m wide awake.

I need to remember true joy comes from having balance in life.   All of us will sometimes have something, someone, or some cause that will begin to overwhelm our days.  And, there will be periods when we need to place our family off to one side so as to finish a project, help a friend, or learn something new.  But as my mother reminded me, we need to return our families back to the center sooner rather than later.  Finish that project, give your friend the benefit of your counsel, and bring your new skill into play to help your family.

Most important of all, remember God and family comes first; everything and everyone else needs to wait their turn.

Thanks to my mom’s gentle reminder, sleeping is so much sweeter these days.


Copyright 2010 Carol S. Bannon

As adults we are conditioned to take control of our destiny, plot the course, make the lists…and follow through.  To do otherwise would be anathema to many of our natures.   And yet, that is precisely what all of us must practice at some time in our lives.  Illnesses arise or economic recessions may change our financial stability and through no fault of our own, the fabric of our daily lives is changed.  When bad things happen to us, or our loved ones, it never feels right.

I remember very clearly when my own family’s life was not only turned upside down, but cemented into a new place…and I was not happy.  In fact, I spent a long time ignoring the situation.  When I was forced to accept the new direction my family was headed, I became angry and then depressed.  The recriminations, the tears, the “why us” pleas, and even the childish expression of hate…I did it all.  Through no fault of mine, life changed and instead of being able to fix the situation, I had to accept it.

I believe one of the greatest fallacies of getting older is that life will become easier.  How many new parents believe once their children learn to walk and talk, their life will become less complicated?  In truth, once children learn how to walk, they inevitable love to run and you are left chasing them from morning to night.  Once they know how to talk, you find yourself telling them to be quiet more often than not.  The fairy tale repeated most often is when your children leave for college, or became married, or have children of their own, you can stop worrying about them.

The truth of the matter is most of us will never be able to stop worrying.  Even when we know in our hearts the outcome cannot be changed, we continue to try to “fix” the situation.  It is what many of us are programmed to do.  When a doctor gives a diagnosis we don’t like, we head to our computers to google other treatments.  When our children do not get accepted into their school of choice, we write letters and plead with administrators. When faced with absolutes, many of us need to know we have options. When faced without any options, we feel lost and out of control.

That is why growing older is not easy.  Aging forces us to acknowledge our options are limited. The certainty of youth to change situations is gradually replaced with the knowledge that certain situations cannot be changed.   I’ll never forget my father in law, a proud man who started his own company, sharing a glass of wine with me on the night he discovered he had stomach cancer.  My mother in law was in the hospital suffering from lung cancer, and I asked him if I could get anything for him.  He chuckled and told me that at this stage of his life all he needed was a little more wine and a lot more faith.

We all have a bit of Pilate in us.  It is the part of our character that goes in search of other options, the part that says to the world “don’t you know I have the power to ….”  At the end of the day, though, all of us must accept that which Our Father gives us to hold, to experience, to live through…good and bad.   As Christ said to Pilate “you have no power but that which My Father gave you”.   Thankfully He gave us the power to have faith in Him, to trust in Him, when all other options are gone.


Copyright 2010 Carol S. Bannon

Compare those days with today’s modern family car trips. When meeting our daughter at the rendezvous point to pick up Alex, we were given the all important car seat with the manicure destroying harness and a 25 pound diaper bag filled with medicines, emergency numbers, a smorgasbord of his favorite prepackaged snack foods, and his day and nighttime diapers – not to be confused with the swimmie diapers. Once my husband had safely stowed the essentials in the back seat, she proceeded to strap on the most important car trip item for the modern family– the portable DVD player. Of course she had to teach us how to turn on this player, and which buttons to push to fast forward past the credits, but she assured us this would keep him entertained for most of the car trip. She was not wrong!

There was no separation anxiety on his behalf, although his mom looked a bit worse for wear. He had his favorite stuffed animal snug between his arms, his Papa driving, and a sippy cup filled with his favorite juice – he was ready to be entertained. As a surprise, our daughter had purchased a collection of old cartoons for him to watch. There was Felix the Cat, Popeye the Sailor Man, Baby Huey, Tom and Jerry, and even Little LuLu…I would be lying if I didn’t say all three of us enjoyed the trip home. Alex laughed to the antics of Felix dancing on a wooden fence pole, and my husband and I enjoyed both his laughter and our memories of watching these same cartoons with our own children. About four hours into the trip, when Alex finally dozed off, I glanced over at my husband and the sense of déjà vu was very strong. We had done before, and to me it didn’t seem all that many years ago.

This feeling of time passing too quickly is one I experience every Lent too. No matter how committed I am to following through each year with the intentions I set forward, somehow time gets away from me. As the end of Lent approaches, I always seem to feel as if I have not done my best. Oh I had many good reasons for this – in grade school it was because I gave up something “too hard”. In college I was always “too” busy, and as a young mother – well that speaks for itself. Only a mother can tell you how short the forty days of Lent truly are. Before you can say “forgive me Father, for I have sinned”, Holy Thursday has arrived and the children are beside themselves with Easter Fever. I was lucky to do the Stations of the Cross on Friday evenings and find ten minutes of solitude to pray every day.

This Ash Wednesday I chose two goals. One was based on the lofty guiding principal of why Catholics love this season of denial – to lose twenty pounds by giving up my favorite snacks. My second goal was to become closer to Christ. Ironically, upon reading my newest diet book I came across this Chinese Proverb:

“If you are in a hurry, you will never get there”.

I have not come close to accomplishing my first goal, but this proverb rang true for my second. If I rush through Lent I may never get to where I want to be, which is in a deeper relationship with Christ. Time will escape – that is an unavoidable casualty of living. Details, schedules, and people will continue to band together in a concerted effort to derail my best laid plans. Only now do I understand this is part of everyone’s life.

Meditating on my shortcomings, which I find myself doing quite often, I have come to one conclusion…God is willing to let me take as long as I need. He knows I can do better, and more importantly, He knows I will try to do better. Maybe this Lent wasn’t perfect, but I am not perfect. I do know that I need Him near me when I become lonely, to talk to me when I feel frustrated, to listen to me when no one else seems to even hear me, and to forgive me for the thousand ways I hurt Him every day. Lent is a beautiful season where we come to a closer understanding of our relationship with God, but it is the beginning.

I understand Lent, like preparing for family car trips, are just the beginning of a long journey. Every year the details of how I plan to prepare for Easter may change, but my goal to know God better has remained constant. I may never complete the journey the way I envision on Ash Wednesday, but I will always try, because I do want to be with Christ! I want to be able to gaze on His face when I die, and feel that same sense of déjà vu – knowing that He was always right beside me on my many Lenten journeys, waiting for me to know Him, an

d welcoming me home.