As we enter more deeply into Lent, most of us will continue discerning how in particular we are going to increase and focus our prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Today, I have a specific suggestion for adding to your Lenten prayer focus. The catch is that it doesn’t end with Lent but continues until the end of your life. Sound like a big commitment? It’s not scary at all… and I actually think you will love it and find that it draws you further into the joy God has called you to.

Let me introduce you to the Handmaids of the Precious Blood, an order of cloistered nuns who “offer their lives for the sanctification of priests in Eucharistic Adoration.” From their website:

The Handmaids are cloistered contemplatives dedicated to the honor, worship, and praise of God. By their hidden apostolate, they extend the arms of prayer and sacrifice around the world, with a special solicitude for God’s priests. A Pontifical community, their love for the Church is expressed in unswerving loyalty and fidelity to the Holy Father. Eucharistic Adoration is a special aspect of their ecclesial mission.

Beautiful. And the lay person is not excluded from participation in this privilege but has the opportunity to spiritually adopt a priest through their Lay Associates of the Priesthood. No meetings. No fees. No requirements other than daily prayer for a specific priest.

When you fill out their “Adopt a Priest” form, they will match you with a priest and send you a prayer card with the name of your priest (first name only) and welcome packet. That’s all there is to it. You take on the role of spiritual mother to one of God’s chosen servants… and God willing, you will meet and embrace someday in heaven.

The nuns would love to have every priest spiritually adopted and currently have almost 30,000 members. I signed up a couple years ago and Father N. has become a part of my thoughts and prayers and family. I know I will never meet him in this life but I find myself wondering how he is and have asked the Lord to give me a nudge when Father needs extra prayers. I think of him on the feast of his patron saint and very much look forward to our heavenly meeting.

I strongly encourage you to prayerful consider adding this privilege of prayer to your life as a part of your Lenten practice this year. I really can’t see any down side and can certainly attest to the blessing. If you pray daily, this is not a difficult obligation at all.  Please visit the Handmaids’ website to learn more and to be encouraged by their beautiful witness and resources.

www.nunsforpriests.org

If you need any more encouragement, I’ll just tell you that the late Father John Hardon was instrumental in establishing this lay apostolate and was a great friend to the order. Hey, a little Catholic name-dropping never hurts! He certainly knew how much our priests need our support and prayers. Let us together offer this small sacrifice for those men who have given all to Christ.

Copyright 2013 Melody Lyons

How to Forgive Anyone

When you look at me, what do you see? Do you see the woman God made me to be or the broken sinner bent on thwarting His beautiful plan?

When you look at me, what do you feel? Do you feel gratitude for how He has worked in my life? Or do you feel the pain that I have caused you with my words and actions?

Does it have to be one or the other? Can we see both… looking through the scars and woundedness to a place of innocence and joy?

You see me as I am now. As I present myself to you. As I hurt you or comfort you, show my face or hide my heart. But do you see me as I was meant to be? And will you call me forth to come into my own?

If you struggle with forgiveness, I can offer you a way to find it… an opportunity to uncover that place in your heart that can’t fight mercy. It’s a little exercise. I can’t promise it will work. I can promise you that God will work… even if you can’t feel it yet… particularly if you are a mother.

Find a photograph of the one you wish to forgive. Not just any photograph, but a very early one… or maybe two or three if you can manage. One of infancy, another of toddlerhood, perhaps another at about 3 or 4 years of age. Baptismal photos are good… or in the mother’s arms. If you do not have an actual picture, imagine a small child. If you do not think in images, find a picture of an unknown infant and imagine that the child in the photo is the one you are trying to see.

Now close your eyes and pray. Beg the Lord to help you SEE. Beg Him to help you have  COMPASSION. And MERCY. Ask the Holy Spirit to flood your mind and soul and vision… that you  may only see now through God’s eyes. And that you may be able to forgive.

Open your eyes and examine the pictures before you. Imagine holding that infant. Look into the eyes of the child and SEE the innocence and the beautiful plan that God intended. Think like a mother. Think of all of the hopes and dreams that you would have for such a little person. See the little one smiling up to you and reaching. See baby fall… and the tears… and running to dry them and kiss them away.

God’s baby. God’s little one. At this moment, that little heart is in your hands. Now, even if you don’t feel it, Say out loud:

You are His beautiful child and I forgive you for His sake.

I have done this a few times. All times but one it was an accidental (providential) moment. Once, I was sent a childhood photograph by a person who had hurt me. Perhaps she knew me well enough to know the effect it would have. It was her First Holy Communion portrait and her eyes were shining with a beautiful innocent joy. I could SEE her for the first time and all bitterness left my heart. Forgiveness does not always mean reconciliation but it is still necessary. There is still brokenness. There is still division. But I cannot see the radiant face of God’s little girl and withhold my forgiveness. The image from that photograph has not left me.

I found a picture of my own childhood one day and really LOOKED for the first time. And I wept at what I saw because I saw what I thought was lost. Then I knew that He still SEES and loves and forgives His little girl. He always has the face of my innocence before Him.

We aught to do this for each other. I mean, that we should continually see each other through the Father’s eyes and recall each other to our purpose… to the image in which we were made. We should practice seeing what may be hidden and calling out to the little soul in hiding.

“Only when we see God’s presence in each other in the small ways are we then able to progress to other areas where we are called to love.”  (Father Franz Dool)

Mother Teresa of Calcutta saw our Lord in every person. I am not so good as that. The mother in me sometimes needs to start with a baby picture.

Copyright 2012 Melody Lyons

Letting Go of the Superstar Vocation

I think one of the biggest pastoral mistakes that good priests make is trying to be great when they should really just work on being good. (By the way, I can’t honestly claim to know what a priest is trying to do unless he says it… this reflection is based purely on what I see.) What I sometimes think I see are the super-try-hard-wheels of a priest spinning and they are frighteningly similar to mine. And I know where that gets me. Try hard, try harder, try hardest… fail. Cry. Repeat.

I can see it in their eyes. Especially with the recently ordained. I know that panicked look. It starts with that passion to serve and quickly becomes a panic attack. I want to hold their nervous hands and give them hot soup on a cold night and let them know… the dishes can wait… go pray with your children.

I haven’t a clue what the “dishes” of the priesthood are but I know they exist. Like the good fathers that they are, they want to meet the needs of their many children. They see the woundedness, the suffering, the hopelessness and they want to fix it all. right. now. Good fathers.

Sometimes I want to jump up on the pew bench during a homily and say, “Cut to the chase, Father. We’ve only got you for a few minutes here. A little less TV talk and a little more Jesus, okay? It’s all right. I do like where you’re going with this one. It’s just that time is short and I need you to give me as much Jesus as you possibly can in this here hour. You don’t have to be exciting. We’ve heard that joke before anyway (it’s a good one) and I’ve never even heard of that movie. You don’t have to be a superstar today. You don’t have to perform in order to attract. Just be faithful.”

When I’m overwhelmed with the responsibilities of my motherhood, I want to run away to an area of my life where I can feel successful. Character issues with a child? Time to make cupcakes! Can’t get anyone to help around the house? Let’s explore the fiber arts! I escape to an activity at which I can take charge, appear successful, and ignore the real needs around me. I plan a big party. I give a big, important lecture to the kids. I visit Pinterest for something shiny and cool to make me feel like I’m accomplishing something. Anything.

And what my kids really need from me is holiness. They need to be in a home that oozes pursuit of sanctity. I want to be great. Superstar mom. Clean house. Perfect teacher. Infallible mentor. Master chef. All of that. God wants me to be good. Faithful. Diligent. Attentive. Prayerful. Loving.

If you’ve ever known a good priest, a really good priest, odds are he wasn’t a superstar… just incredibly prayerful and faithful to Jesus. Those are the kinds of priests who mysteriously attract a large following of the faithful who know that he’s going the right way… and want to make sure they are along for the ride.

Some people are cut out to be superstars. Most of us are not. But every single one of us is called within our vocation simply to be Good. Holy. Loving. Loved.

Copyright 2012 Melody Lyons

When Your Child is Lonely: Homeschooling Through Hard Times

This article is written primarily for homeschooling parents who wonder if their kids will ever find true, Christ-centered friendships with someone of similar age. I will spoil the ending for you in this first paragraph but then you still have to read the rest of the post. The answer to your question is: Likely, but not certainly.

I’m going to tell you our story, and dedicate it to those moms and dads out there who have seen their children cry tears of loneliness. To those parents who know that particular pain and are afraid, this is for you…

Have you ever been lonely in a crowded room? I don’t believe there is a person who has never felt that kind of ironic isolation. It is a reality I have reminded myself of countless times over the years while parenting my children, particularly when the temptation comes to cure loneliness with extra bodies and activities. I know better. We all know better.

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee, O God” Yes. We do know.

My own experience of peer relationships as a child was heavily negative. I had close friends, many acquaintances  and many places to be throughout my youth, and still I closed my eyes at night feeling isolated. I used to think that it was my personal failure. As wisdom has increased, my eyes have opened to the fact that this is simply the lot of mortals.

When my husband and I made the decision to homeschool our children, we fielded many questions about the “socialization” of our offspring. Ah, socialization! Exactly! Because we knew the long term health of our kids would depend, in large part, upon our ability to guide them to good and holy relationships.

I’ve got to be up front here and admit that we have always been rather guarded about which companions our children spend time with. We have taken the words of Scripture and the saints to heart and guarded the door…

Nothing can be more dangerous than keeping wicked companions. They communicate the infection of their vices to all who associate with them. ~ St. John Baptiste de la Salle

On the other hand, we have allowed the children to become involved in many extracurricular activities with large numbers of their Catholic and non-Catholic peers. We have been busy, busy and surrounded by people. We have walked with them. We have coached their teams. We have stayed at practices even when mocked by the other parents.  “Why don’t you put the baby with a babysitter and go have a latte by yourself?” But there is a difference between smothering a child and offering appropriate guidance and protection. By the grace of God, I believe that we have walked that very fine line somewhat successfully… but it has not come without lonely tears.

Why can’t I go to that birthday party, Mommy? The whole team is going and everyone is nice. Tommy even likes to read, like me.

On the one hand, my heart is breaking for this kid who just sees the best in people and who only wants some companionship. On the other hand, I know what I know about people and I won’t sacrifice a child’s goodness on the altar of fun times. Because I sit in the bleachers when the other moms leave, I know how the kids speak and how they treat each other. Sometimes I hear more than I would like. I know which friendships would be treacherous to a pure heart. I know when to make unexpected appearances in the girls’ locker room and when to have a young boy wait to change until certain people have left. I know which parents are filthy in behavior and speech. I know which families allow what we do not allow. It is my business to know. My vocation.

And so, every once in a while,  the child cries in his bed quietly and wonders if there will ever come a day when he will have a friend who cares about him. I tell him softly that the Lord has prepared those friendships for him and that he must not settle for less than godly friendships. He nods and continues to shed tears until he sleeps. I head off to my own room for a good cry and wonder if the problem is with homeschooling. No, know that isn’t it. I attended some kind of school from infancy through young adulthood and still cried through many lonely nights.

As the older children have grown, I have struggled with this again and again, trying to find the balance between necessary growth and exposure and prudence. I do not exaggerate when I say that it has been an ongoing and monumental battle for souls. I have been on my knees many times begging the Lord to give me the wisdom and courage to carry on according to His will.

We are not afraid of people, we are attentive to our children. We are constantly stretching out into the world and pulling back when necessary. Being a close family allows us the strength and freedom to weather the lonely times. This approach has provided the most unexpected friendships… and surprising divisions.

I have spent countless hours discerning the correct approach to the social life of my children. I see other Catholic homeschooling families growing up and their children clinging to joy and faith… and some abandoning all of it and self-destructing. What makes the difference? Why does one Catholic child grow to be a faithful Catholic adult? Why does another child of a daily Mass attending, rosary praying, Scripture loving, service- centered family leave the Church and become a drug addict?

Free will. There is that. But there is another element that seems to be absolutely critical in formation. That element is peer influence. Socialization. Friendships.

Bad company corrupts good morals. (1 Cor. 15:33) And how.

Let’s take the case of a fictitious (but representative) family who homeschools to avoid negative peer influence in school and instill strong faith and virtue in their children. After school hours, the parents are faced with a choice: Do I keep my kids locked in the house all the time? Or do I permit them to spend time with the neighborhood kids whose behavior is rather questionable? Or is there a middle ground?

I’ve got to tell you, if you are a homeschooling parent who prefers the second option, please make sure you are the parent in the figurative bleachers. You will accomplish less in your home. You will be viewed as odd by other adults. You will be viewed with disdain by some of the kids. (Those are the kids your kids should not be playing with.) You will also learn very quickly what is going into your child’s mind and heart and be able to step in at key moments… and that is worth a lot in these stakes.

It is not really a choice between the cloister and the streets of London. A third option is to build a family culture that knows how to extend beyond the castle walls in a healthy way and then fall back and regroup when necessary. We have done this with many failures and successes but our baseline remains intact.

I’m going to fast forward a little here. Past the lonely years when I asked the older ones to trust me about friendships. Ask God to bring them to you and He will. Do not settle for less than those whom He chooses. Past the countless birthday party invitations we turned down. Past the evenings when my husband and I wrestled with the question of whether socialization for it’s own sake was worth considering….

… to today. My oldest two, a boy and a girl, are 15 and 13-years old. They have waited more or less patiently for the green light. They never dreamed of what God had in store for them. I dreamed of it but didn’t have any idea how it could happen. God is a designer of dreams. And my children are now little social butterflies with some of the most virtuous, joy-filled youngsters I have ever met as companions. Some of those friends live well over an hour away but my own children have learned to be patient. They do not kick and fight to get out (most of the time), but rather they thank God for every precious moment of shared time. They are so happy to be themselves with those who value virtue and faith. The Scriptures exhort us to do so…. and wouldn’t that be the hallmark of holy friendship? Indeed.

God has taken my dreams, their dreams, and once again expanded them.

A few nights ago, I was blessed to overhear a conversation between my oldest son and his younger brother (10). The younger one was mourning the fact that he had very few friends his age with whom he could spend time with. He was unhappy that I had denied his request to play with a home-educated youngster from an area Catholic family. I know what I know. He doesn’t know. I sit in the bleachers. My son would hang out with that boy from the daily-Mass-going-rosary-praying family when you-know-what freezes over. I just want to play! I won’t listen to anything he says! Again, I said no. The boy was seething. My heart was breaking for him.

And then older boy said this:

I know how you feel. I have been very lonely at times. I just wanted a friend and mom would tell me that a good friend was worth waiting for. She was right… and during those lonely times, you need to just pray to Jesus to send you really great friends. It seems like it takes a long time but I promise you, it is worth it. Maybe that kid will mature and learn what it means to respect people like a Christian should, but until he does, you shouldn’t hang out with him. It’s not worth it.

That message was from one of my sons to another but I give it to all you moms and dads whose hearts are breaking for your lonely kids. Help them to develop a deep friendship with Jesus and their family members. Guard them from peers who do not honor their innocence, their dignity, or their God. Provide them with opportunities to explore the beautiful and good in life. When they’re young, hold their hand while they branch out. As they grow, sit in the bleachers. Prayerfully discern everyday and you will know when it is time to walk away.

Oh, and please pray for me… I’m got many miles left to go.

Copyright 2012 Melody Lyons

When Life is Hard: Thoughts on Failure

Some days in life are just so stinkin’ hard. The most difficult part of hard days is the part I play in them. The failures that are mine, all mine. If I have twenty balls up in the air and manage to keep ten of them up, hoorah for me! But still I drop the other ten.

Every once in a while failure backs me into a little corner. Then, like Poe’s Montresor, it builds its wall about me in the catacombs of my soul. Failure hangs a mirror on the bricks in front of my imprisoned heart and laughs. There you are… see what you have become. Failure! Requiescat In Pace!

That would be the end of me, I think, if Someone didn’t come along with reliably perfect consistency and unlock those chains and remove the mirror and the walls. He always comes. I know He is coming. And I wait.

Some days He waits longer than others to make Himself known and it is hard. I wake in the morning and Failure is there mocking me. I turn out the light and see it, trowel in hand, building the wall of my demise. But I rise anyway. I work anyway, step by step. I pray anyway, dry and cold. And wait on the Lord.

There are days when He comes like a whisper and nurses me back to life. Child, you are broken. I will carry you today. At other times He comes to correct and chastise… refining me, reminding me, that true love is not a flicker but a blaze! Get up! It is time to walk! I will stand with you… but you must rise. If I can only place pressure on the bottom of my feet He accepts that small fiat and carries me again.

What does it mean to lay down one’s life? Many holy men and women have illuminated the hearts and minds of the faithful on the subject. Christ Himself went to the Cross to show us. But on those days, when Failure tries to destroy me, I have no understanding of the ways of the saints and I can hardly see His face at it’s height on the cross beam. With the little will that remains in me, I lay aside myself and offer everything, everything to Him… which is nothing really but a tiny flame that was His all along anyway.

You gave me life, Lord. You made me beautiful in your image. You knew I would falter and still, you created me. That mysterious Love… reason enough to wait upon You when my body and mind are impatient for an end. I know You will come. And I press on for You and for Love.

Love comes and I collapse into His arms, exhausted and suffering. What is it about me that keeps You returning? Don’t You see what I am? 

No, Daughter… I see WHO you are… and that is enough. I will always come for you. I will always carry you. Do not be afraid.

I used to count my failures, convinced that by identifying and detailing them that I could overcome them bit by bit. Instead of whittling them down, I have seen them multiply. And my trust has multiplied. And my joy. And my peace of mind and heart. Funny. Funny how God sometimes works in ways that defy human reason…

For the hardest days are the ones in which I shout “Yes, I can!” and quickly find out that I cannot. This humility is one of the greatest blessings of my life for it brings me to His Heart again and again. But humanly speaking… it is hard.

“The ignorance of this truth, that the ways of God are very different rom our ways, is the cause of much confusion for the soul. Every time we suffer a calamity in our spiritual life, we grow alarmed and think we have lost our way. For we have fancied an even road for ourselves, a footpath, a way strewn with flowers. Hence, upon finding ourselves in a rough way, one filled with thorns, one lacking all attraction, we think we have lost the road; whereas it is only that the ways of God are very different from our ways.

Sometimes the biographies of saints tend to foster this illusion; that is, when they do not fully reveal the profound story of those souls, or when they disclose it only in a fragmentary manner, selecting solely the attractive and pleasing features. They call our attention to the hours that the saints spent in prayer, to the generosity with which they practiced virtue, to the consolations they received from God. We see only what is shining and beautiful and we lose sight of the struggles, darknesses, temptations, and falls through which they passed. And we think like this: “Oh, if I could live as those souls! What peace, what light what love was theirs!” Yes, that is what we see, but if we would look deeply into the hearts of the saints, we would understand that the ways of God our not our ways.” ~ Archbishop Luis M. Martinez, Secrets of the Interior Life

Copyright 2012 Melody Lyons

What is Real? The Velveteen Catholic Meets the Saints

I have always been a Catholic but did not fully practice, understand, or embrace the faith until adulthood. I married at age nineteen and had my first child at twenty one, so when I say “adulthood” I do not mean mature adulthood. I knew I needed to grow and figured that the best place to start was with the saints, my brothers and sisters in heaven, who had been where I stood and had “made it.”

In our first home we had two shelves full of saints books that my husband had purchased for our infant son. It would be a few years before he would read them but I dug in and spent hours rocking my baby and getting to know my heavenly siblings. Wonderful! Inspiring! If only I could be like that! But there is a significant problem with many saints books written for children, and that is that they are subject to some serious literary airbrushing. The saints are too often depicted like fictional beings who seem too fantastical to be true and rather distant to a growing sinner. I became discouraged. That is not for me, I thought. I can’t possibly become a saint. Heck, I can’t even keep the kitchen sink clean.

I wanted desperately to be like those lovely sanitized holy men and women but I knew that I could not. I tucked my failure deep into a corner of my heart and pressed on with a shaky faith; walking forward, seeking God’s will, growing slowly in love and commitment to my vocation.

What is real?

As my family grew and the challenges of life increased, I repeatedly turned to the example of the saints and then turned away. They appeared in my mind like cartoons and the pastel pictures in my son’s books, unblemished statues with flawless stories. Those images had spread into my faith life to a degree as to cause my entire vision of church and faith to occasionally falter… so that everything that was once real and beautiful to me appeared as a smooth blond airbrushed plaster statue of Mary. With blue eyes, of course. And the smooth hands so unlike mine with my nails roughly bitten down to the quick.

Like the Velveteen Rabbit I began to wonder what was real. I was real. And I could not be a saint. I knew this because I knew the lives of the saints were an impossibility. I couldn’t make it through the morning without messing something up let alone live such an untarnished life until the end. Unless God directly intervened, it was hopeless for me. And He didn’t seem to be taking any significant action in spite of my pleas.

The Saints were Crazy

Over the years, my understanding increased a little and my reading level also rose. I began to read biographies of the saints that were written for adults; accounts that revealed the real humanity and weaknesses of these men and women who became such great friends of God. I remember reading a book about St. Francis of Assisi during my lunch breaks at work. As I made my way through the volume, a very disturbing thought kept recurring to me: This man was crazy! I had attended a Franciscan high school and everyone there knew all about St. Francis. We were experts. He was something of a religious mascot to us. He loved animals, right? What more do we need to know? He was gentle and little birdies and wolves listened to him. The real story is much more intense and cool and… totally crazy. This man loved God so passionately that he did extreme things for that love. I became increasingly convinced through my reading that many people who knew St. Francis during his lifetime did not think of him primarily as the nice animal guy. And that a lot of people probably thought he really was off his rocker.

As my education increased, I learned that all of the saints had a similar quality, this intensely real marriage of tremendous love and messy humanity. They were all willing to be considered odd or extreme or reviled or misunderstood… if it meant glorifying and serving the Lord.

The Saints Suffered

I continued to read and met with the suffering saints. Boy, did they suffer. The kids books gloss over those points (maybe they should, I don’t know) and consequently, I imagined that real suffering for Christ would be easier, humanly speaking, than suffering without Him. But it seemed that I had the wrong idea. A suffering Christian is not spared actual pain, but they are given hope and joy in the midst of their agony. There is nothing about the crucifixion that modeled an easy, gentler kind of suffering. And the saints suffered like Jesus in ways that seemed too hard for me.

I prayed for a miracle. I knew that I did not want to be considered strange and reviled by others. And I did not want to suffer like that. I did not really want to be a saint. Not a real saint. Maybe just a nice saint… with blonde hair, blue eyes and immaculate hands. I took my secret and tucked it back into that corner in my heart.

I continued to pray and to go through the motions… but I always stopped short of giving God everything. After all, I had been learning a lot about what happened to His closest friends. Most of the time I tried to ignore my lack of trust. But occasionally, I would pray more deeply and He would draw me closer… and I would face my fear. And stop short.

I have had a very good life and love my family and vocation; but there is no question that life is just plain hard sometimes. Sometimes, we all suffer… with a capital S. During one of those very human moments in my life, I found myself awash in tears. My prayers reached a desperate crescendo and I faced that uncomfortable moment again, the one at which I had always stopped before. But this time, I crossed that threshold and finished my prayer.

Lord, change my life forever. Take me anywhere. Just don’t let me go. Because I am afraid.  Please lead me wherever it is You want me to go. I will go. I want to be a saint. 

I’d love to tell you that I changed significantly immediately. The reality, however, is that I hardly changed at all exteriorly. If anything, I am a worse housekeeper, more forgetful, make more mistakes  and am lacking in discipline more than I ever have been before. My vocation requires a bit more of me than I seem to be able to give. Sometimes I open my eyes in the morning and groan, wondering what the good Lord was thinking when He gave me this job. You know I can’t do it, Lord… I guess You knew that from the beginning. All right. Here we go. You better not drop me.

What has changed is that I feel free to approach God and to love Him freely in spite of my ugliness and sinfulness. Human perfection is not required to be a friend of God. He wants me even if I can’t keep my sink clean. Want to know how badly He wants my friendship and yours? Take a long look at the crucifix. He didn’t do that for perfect people.

The Saints were Real

Some notes about the saints:

* They were clumsy

* They were forgetful

* They had tempers

* They upset people

* They had allergies

* They had disfigurements

* They had chronic illnesses (sometimes brought on by their imprudence)

* They had serious disagreements with people (sometimes other saints)

* They made errors in judgment

In short, God calls us to perfection, but this does not mean that we shall never drop a dish or have a disagreement or lose our tempers or spend a week with the flu.

Sainthood is About Love

Shortly following my desperate prayer, a priest at our parish reminded us that “You can be the greatest saint.” For the first time in my life, I believed him. I won’t ever be canonized (since my life would just scandalize the faithful) but I can be a near and dear friend to Jesus. And as long as He holds my hand, I am no longer afraid.

My heart is free from my secret now. I no longer see the saints as separate from my reality. And my life has dramatically changed. As I said, I seem to be getting no better humanly speaking, but I have God to open the door for the work of grace in my life. Sometimes that simply means having the courage to get through a very difficult day and falling asleep with the name of Jesus on my lips.

Now I can look at a beautiful blonde statue of Mary and take delight in it. I get it. Saints are beautiful because God is beautiful. Their disfigured humanity was beautiful because it was for Him. They spent themselves in His service. Gave up their beauty sleep and took lashes from their enemies for Him. Their perfect pastel images are beautiful because they symbolize something greater. I’m still wary of books about saints for children… but I recognize the need for them to become familiar with simple beauty… and I’m careful to keep it real.

Copyright 2012 Melody Lyons

So perhaps it isn’t so strange that when I first heard of online voice lessons, I was extremely interested. My first visit to the website of tenor Daniel Foran caught my attention instantly. It was very professional with pages and pages of reading, listening and viewing material. Almost every question I had was answered: credentials, experience, fees, structure, audio, video, method; all covered. And then I heard him sing. I was completely sold. The only thing left was to talk to Mr. Foran himself to see if online instruction under his mentorship was a match for my family.

Since that time, I have been very pleased with my fortuitous discovery and consider our family blessed to know and study under Daniel Foran, who was not only homeschooled himself from third grade through high school, but has continued to embrace and grow in his Catholic faith.

Faith and Family

The first time I sat down in front of my computer to have a live chat with Mr. Foran (via Skype) we spent a little time covering the basics. “So how many children do you have?” he asked me. “I have six,” I replied. I’m accustomed to the shocked exclamations of those who think my family is extraordinarily large. Instead, Mr. Foran laughed and quipped, “You’re just getting started!” You see, he is the ninth child in a family of fourteen. Just getting started, indeed… I’m not even halfway there yet!

Born to a musical family who sang together weekly in their church choir, Mr. Foran was exposed to music from the womb. He was also exposed to the beauty of life within a strong and faith-centered family. Music and faith have never left him. In his words:

“Catholicism has always been in my life. The faith we have been raised with, in most cases, has been exemplified to us at home, which is where real faith begins. It has served as a guide to me through all things.”

“Certainly, we are always put in a position in which we have to make choices. These choices, however important or menial, become the embodiment of who we are. I have made many choices in my life that have been carefully considered through the prism of that beautiful guide of Catholicism. To do so (for me) has always been as normal and natural as breathing. So I feel I can truly say that my faith affects every aspect of my life, including my work.”

It does indeed affect his work. From the very beginning of our communications, Mr. Foran has made it clear to me that he considers the parents to have a primary and pivotal role in the development of his students.  I found this incredibly refreshing. A true mentor is one who seeks to bring out the most good and beauty in the life of a child, even if it means stepping aside to defer to a greater good at times. Mr. Foran sees, through the eyes of his faith, that there is no replacement for the family and he dignifies and compliments this great gift of God through his teaching role.

Homeschooling

As the homeschooling movement grows in numbers and longevity, the fruits are becoming apparent. Daniel Foran is one of those fruits. His homeschooling adventure began when he was in the third grade when his parents, unwilling to allow their son to be mislabeled with a learning disability, began their homeschooling journey. At that time, homeschooling was almost unheard of and yet they willingly took up that cross and became pioneers for the love of their children. What happened to the little school boy who wrote his letters the wrong way? Daniel Foran graduated from college magna cum laude and continued on for his Master of Music degree from the Manhattan School of Music, which is considered to be the best music conservatory for voice in the world.

When asked if he considers his homeschooling experience any advantage to his professional work and teaching, Dan replied:

“I believe that homeschooling has helped me immensely in my ability to diversify with others or, more simply put, I mingle well with all ages and peoples. Associations we have with others and our handling of them are usually based on our childhood experiences with people and the relationship exemplified to us through our parents. For me there existed an extra level of this due to the uniqueness of my family size and our constant dependency on each other to get things done. This has allowed me to understand synergy as a way of life without even realizing it. Also, since I often studied on my own, I learned how to focus and how to learn what I have to learn when I have to learn it. This, too, has been a tool of immeasurable value to me, especially learning roles.”

As a homeschooling parent, I have never had the privilege of having my children mentored, coached or instructed by a homeschooled adult (other than myself and my husband, of course). I am finding it to be a great and unexpected blessing. Mr. Foran understands our family situation as few other teachers can; and not only that… he delights in our uniqueness. He considers it a great opportunity to serve homeschoolers since he has a particular insight in the matter.

Teaching

Sometimes technology really knocks my socks off. My daughter stands before the computer for her lesson with her music teacher. He’s showing her proper jaw positioning and then turns toward the back of the room, apologizing that his piano hasn’t yet been moved to a more visible spot. He plays the notes and she sings. He turns around and they talk together before the next exercise. My mind flashes back to all the Jetsons episodes lurking in the recesses of my brain (“Yum, it’s been light years since you programmed synthetic brownies!”). How is it that this man in New Jersey is able to share his knowledge and enthusiasm and joy with my family when we’ve never even stood in the same room together? It boggles the mind. But it is a fact.

One of the things I appreciate most about Mr. Foran is his willingness to be a pioneer… just like his parents. Online voice instruction is an unusual idea that has come into its time; and he is ready to explore it. For a mother like me, it is a gift.

Pope John Paul II wrote, “Artistic talent is a gift from God and whoever discovers it in himself has a certain obligation: to know that he cannot waste this talent, but must develop it.” By living a life engaged in this mission and determined to share it with others, Mr. Foran is doing just that.

When asked about the factors that helped develop his talent and teaching goals, Mr. Foran said, “As far as preparing me for online teaching, I think that my entire life has helped prepare me more than any single event or experience. Online teaching is something that is still very, very new. As I work toward improving it and making other disciplines online accessible, such as guitar or piano, I am constantly looking for inspiration for accomplishment in the people I meet. I can’t help but to see God helping me along every step of the way here and things seem to get more exciting as we go forward into the future.”

Catholic Performing Artist

The first time I heard Daniel Foran’s voice on his website I thought, “Where can I buy this?” I am not incredibly knowledgeable about music but I know what I like. I know what is beautiful and what raises my heart and mind higher toward their Creator. My second reaction to hearing him sing was the greenest envy of the parishioners of the church at which he cantors! As a professional singer, he has appeared regularly in the New York/New Jersey metropolitan area and a few of those performances can be heard or seen through his website. New Jersey is certainly a lovelier place for his presence there.

What is it like being a faithful Catholic in the classical performing arts? I suspected that Mr. Foran’s answer would be much like the answer that any Catholic adult would give in this culture; a mixture of good and bad and a story of many a Calvary and Easter morning. But I still wanted to hear his words of struggle and faith and encouragement. I was not disappointed.

“Performing in the classical world is a cultural endeavor and (in most cases) it appeals to the highest profundities in the visual entertainment world. While subject matter tends to be real life scenarios and include bad decisions that people make in their lives, those decisions are usually presented as an insinuation rather than blatant manner. This lends itself quite nicely to the morally conscious artist.”

“The most difficult challenges I have faced in the industry have been by far, the weight of perceived social norms from those with whom I have worked… That constant striving for the ideal and the human desire to belong can often conflict…”

“What then of they who think it no big deal to pursue their own designs? I have seen the destructive power it can have on a life and I have seen how wonderful it can be when done the right way, according to the law. Only one of these choices will bestow that deep, personal peace. Those who come to know me often wonder and ask why I am always so happy. I reply with a smile, ‘life is good!’ ”

What Catholic mama wouldn’t be delighted to have a person like this teaching her children? For me, the potential benefits outweighed my uncertainty about the unconventional format of internet instruction. And now, after having engaged in the adventure, we’ve discovered that the concern was unwarranted. It is with great pleasure that I recommend Daniel Foran to you and your children.

If you are interested in learning more about Daniel Foran or contacting him about lessons, please visit his website at www.danielforan.com. And don’t forget to listen to him sing while you’re there; just select Multimedia from the menu options… and enjoy.

Copyright 2011 Melody Lyons

We had a lovely time and my niece performed beautifully. My littlest girls particularly liked the theatre seats that automatically fold under their light weight, leaving their tiny feet the only part of their bottom halves visible. My youngest giggled every time the seats squeaked in that funny way they do. My oldest daughter, however, was quietly and seriously attentive and I noticed an intensity in her attitude that began to concern me. That quiet focus continued in the car and at home and I suspected she was somewhat unhappy.

She had danced ballet for the same school for three years and loved every minute of it. She never wanted to stop and dance filled her dreams but her dad and I ultimately decided, for various reasons, that it was to best to find a different outlet for her. In spite of the fact that she has had phenomenal success in other activities since then, particularly in athletics, she has never lost her desire to be a dancing princess. Her melancholy that day expressed that sense of loss and also possibly a little envy. She saw the beauty of the dancers and began to compare. The pretty skirt she had picked out to wear suddenly became plain and her confident demeanor began to droop.

I have an intense personality and tend to become passionately attached to any activity we are currently involved in. When we were in dance, I loved dance. Consequently, I was a bit surprised at the recent recital to discover that I don’t actually love dance. What I really and passionately love is my daughter. She is no longer a ballerina nor would I like her to be; but I want her to feel as beautiful as her cousin looked in her sparkling tutu and flowered hair. She is that beautiful already but is entering that age when doubt begins to creep in.

My daughter is now a young athlete and I have no trouble becoming enthusiastic about competition and sport. Athletic skill requires a coordination and grace of moments combined to produce a particular and purposeful action. Like ballet, movements are carefully orchestrated to a purpose and a well-executed athletic movement can certainly be described as beautiful.

There are dangers inherent in both sport and dance.  The culture of dance (where physical beauty is an absolute standard) can exaggerate and overemphasize the female tendency to focus on physical appearance. Narcissistic tendencies are common. The culture of sport, on the other hand, can neglect femininity entirely and pressure a young lady to adopt more masculine tendencies (not all of them healthy even in males).

I know there can be a healthy compromise in athletics but it is increasingly difficult when a culture as a whole devalues the feminine virtues. A girl who is modest, gentle and compassionate has become the minority in sport where vulgar language, violence and mean-spiritedness has become common. To be fair, these negative characteristics are also frequently seen in the most beautiful of ballerinas who dazzle audiences with their grace on stage and then drag on their cigarettes while spewing profanities in the green room.

The solution is in the heart and character of each little girl and her home. If she comports herself with modesty and humility and grace at home, she will not have difficulty bringing it to her talent venue. Femininity does not exclude a courageous and competitive spirit on the field or court but it places limits on improper expression. Femininity is not automatically generated by beautiful costume but is revealed through offstage character.

As my husband and I held our daily late-night conference after the recital, I confessed that I thought our daughter was the most beautiful girl in that entire theatre, on stage and off. My unbiased opinion, of course. The wistful look in her eye did not detract from that beauty but added to it as I recognized her character going through some growing pains. My own heart stretched along with her until I thought it was going to break.

In my adult life, one of the greatest obstacles to fully trusting God has been my own feeling of worthlessness. I was conditioned by this culture to estimate my value by what I saw in the mirror. Haunted by my countless exterior and interior flaws, I have at times intentionally distanced myself from God. Please don’t look at me, Lord. There is nothing worth seeing. If I can raise my daughter differently, I will. If only it were as simple as choosing the “right” activity.

The issue is not ultimately about the choice between one physical activity over another but rather about a mother’s desire for her daughter to grow up secure in the knowledge that she is loved and confident in her identity as beloved, good and beautiful. Not in the narcissistic way of a worldly ballerina nor with the “I rock!” mentality of a secular athlete; but with the joy-filled confidence of a daughter of the King. The details of the journey are a little more complicated and frightening at times. Fortunately, I have a daughter who still loves to hold my hand. I’m sure I need it just as much as she.

Copyright 2011 Melody Lyons

I never would dance that way for you. You wouldn’t understand it. You’d miss the genius, the beauty, the point. But it wouldn’t be your fault. The dance wouldn’t be meant for your eyes and I would change it anyway when I saw you standing there. Maybe you would do the same when you noticed me watching your fearless and perfect dancing.

As I come to the end of another school year, I necessarily begin to think about the next one. There’s an odd mixture of disappointment and excitement swirling in with those thoughts. I remember how last year began, with the song, like David’s, on my lips; and it has ended somewhat muted (like when you realize that someone is behind the door secretly listening as you belt out your world class shower rendition of the Star Spangled Banner). My plans for the new school year are grand though. This is the year I will rise up and catch grace on a shooting star. Every year begins that way; I revisit my mission, the vision God has for my children, the ideal school day, the joy on the faces of learning children. Ah yes, this is the year I will dance while I teach! That is my dream anyway; the one I speak when I’m alone in my living room before the Lord.

How would you teach if no one was watching? What would your day look like if there was no superintendent a few miles away in the official building of school administration? No standardized tests? No fear of college entrance exams or hope for scholarships? How would you teach your children if people stopped questioning your competence and randomly quizzing your children to see if you are cheating them out of an education?

I freely admit that this exercise requires a tremendous stretching of the imagination for me. First of all, it is a difficult thing to grasp, this thought of having no one to satisfy but ourselves and God. Secondly, I feel something like a rush of wind overwhelm my mind and heart. Like being at the top of a very tall rollercoaster waiting to slide over the top. There’s a type of fear and elation mixed together.

So, how would I teach if no one was watching? The first time I actively engaged this question, I felt a lump of emotion rise to my throat. There was a freedom and joy in the answer that startled me. My days would not look like my days as they are now. My books would not look like the books I use now. There would be a lot more doing, a lot more seeing and a lot more dancing. The liturgical year would be my school calendar and that rhythm would guide our dance steps. My heart soars at the thought… and then shrinks back in fear.

Fear is a poor leader. It is shameful for me to think about how much of my school is led by fear even though I know better. There have been many days when I have sat paralyzed by the immensity of the task; this educating and planning so that the children will be a success. Are you like me? Have there been days when the sun shone and the world looked inviting and full of life and it beckoned? And you said “NO” because you were afraid? Maybe we’ll go to Mass today and to the park and pick some flowers to press… and then we’ll visit someone and paint something and lay around and read and write letters to mail. And then you thought about the unfinished vocabulary workbook pages…

The interior dialogue begins and we think of the empty box waiting to be checked. We think of our planner. We think of our neighbors and of grandma, God bless her, who keeps asking after our school work. We think of the superintendent. We think of college. Our brains start to calculate. Well, I guess we can make the park a “nature hike” and cover Science. Pressing flowers could be Art if we did something nice enough with them to hang on the wall. Maybe we could call it Botany. Painting is Art, too… is that too much Art? Reading is good but maybe I should ask some comprehension questions in the car. Writing letters could certainly be English. And if we skip Mass, we can get those workbook pages done in the morning.

We begin to calculate the joy and purity out of the dance… and the children begin to notice… and droop. We are like bargain shoppers; how can I fit every single particle of life into school?  And isn’t that backwards? We compartmentalize and analyze and fret and wring our hands.

On the fearful days, the fretting often takes over, the details engulf and the workbook ends up being the only opportunity taken. And then, there are those days when we just dance like David. When do your children learn best? There is no comparison between the days in my home.

My mission for the coming school year is to invite that passion and purity back into our home. It is a fact that we must please certain people and institutions and I fully intend to teach my children how to live successfully in this culture. I do have boxes I must check and papers I must sign. But as I stand at my mental blackboard, I remember the primary reason I educate my children at all and I resolve to keep it in sight this year.

In the Scriptures, Jesus never specifically teaches children. He teaches the adults who will presumably pass that teaching on to their offspring in their homes. There are obviously children in the crowds but he does not direct his words to them. What He does do is to call the children literally to Himself and He touches them and exhorts the adults to become as the children…

“Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them; and when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” (Luke 18:16)

He does not tell adults to be immature or to play with our food or to throw our shoes on floor in the middle of a nice restaurant. He calls us to purity and joy. He calls us to dance like a child before His throne and learn to love Him for His sake and not just because He is a subject on the list.

How would you teach if no one was watching? How would you teach if there was no one but Jesus watching? In the next couple months, we will be reworking our goals for the coming school year. I will write them down and refer to them when I need reminding. And at the top of the page I will write: Dance Like David… With All Our Might

somewhere in the middle I will write:

College scholarships have never been known to increase character or holiness.

Maybe a day will come when I will dance and sing, speak and write and teach before the Lord with all my might… and not care if you are there to see me. Maybe, for once, I will not change any step or word of it out of fear. Maybe you won’t understand and maybe some will laugh or complain. Maybe the superintendent will send a letter asking me to submit my choreography to those with advanced dancing degrees. And maybe the Lord will look kindly upon me and see that I have cared for my little ones with the heart of the good Master instead of burying their treasure out of fear. And then perhaps He will see them dancing before Him and turn to me and say…

“Well done, good and faithful servant… enter into the joy of your master.” (Matthew 25:14-30)

We homeschooling parents often read articles to find out specifically what to do and how to do it. For this reason, this article may be unsatisfying for some. My point, however, is not to give you another checklist, but to encourage you to pursue the goodness of this chosen lifestyle with a passionate love rooted in Christ. If we engage the Heart of Jesus, He will bless our children. He will teach us and call them. And they will come joyfully to His arms even when the world rebukes them for it. Mission accomplished.

Copyright 2011 Melody Lyons

Openness

Neither create nor permit any obstacles. Instead, encourage the discussion and dreams of a life dedicated solely to the service of God and His Church. This doesn’t mean pushing the kids that way, but allowing the dream to form and blossom in their minds and hearts. “Mommy, I want to be a Daddy someday.” That’s wonderful. “But sometimes I think I want to be a priest, too.” That’s great, too. God gave us Marriage and Holy Orders. They are both good and beautiful… I will support you wherever God leads you.

I have had the kids ask me questions like “What do YOU think I should do?” and what can I say? They don’t like my answer: Whatever God calls you to do is what will make you most happy… and that is what I think you should do. They think it’s a cop out. They think I must have a preference. I really don’t. The thought of grandchildren thrills me. The thought of a son in a Roman collar also gives me tremendous joy.

Do you have a secret preference? Keep it a secret. Pray constantly for increased trust in God and place your fears and preferences at the foot of the Cross-at every opportunity. Your holy will be done, Sweet Jesus!

Discussion

Openness naturally leads to fruitful discussion because children are able to trust that you will handle their hopes with care. The conversations in our family often center on the idea of vocation as the kids share thoughts about their futures and dream out loud of what might be. I have been happy to see that they look at all their options with youthful interest. We’ve allowed them to dream and only guided those dreams minimally when questions are asked or input is helpful.

The first conversation I ever had with a child about these dreams was when my oldest (we’ll call him Professor) was four years old. He was closing in upon his fifth birthday. It was 11:45pm. We were all in bed and it was dark and quiet when I was startled by a shout from Professor’s room. I jumped out of bed. What is it? What’s wrong? “Oh, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to tell you that God just told me he wants me to be a priest!” Oh. Okay. When did he tell you that? “Just now!” Uh huh. Okay… good. That’s good. “Yes! Goodnight, Mommy.” Do you need anything else? “Nope. That’s all. I love you.” Love you, too, son.

So, that was the inaugural discussion. He didn’t talk about it much at the time but began to show an increased interest in all things priestly. We purchased a little Mass kit for him for his fifth birthday and I made him little altar linens and tiny vestments.

Have you discussed vocation with your children lately? Prepare them now to open to the call of God.

Good  Example

Children are designed by God to learn through imitation. For this reason, the presence of consistent good example cannot be overstated and it takes constant effort to keep it in place. Shortly after Professor’s First Holy Communion at age six, we found it necessary to change parishes. It was not easy. It was uncomfortable. It was sad to leave those we loved. However, it was the right thing to do since the witness of the priests was joyless and the preaching was contrary to the teaching of the Church. As a result of our move, we found ourselves in a parish led by priests who were passionately in love with Christ and their vocations. They took time to answer Professor’s questions, invited him to inspect the sacristy and lived lives that shouted their joy and faithfulness. Invitations to consider the priesthood have been common. Their happy example has made a world of difference.

In the seven years since, Professor’s attraction to a religious vocation has waxed and waned. He has a natural appreciation for females and has thought in a positive way about marriage. He has been a successful athlete and harbored grand dreams that don’t seem to reconcile with a priestly vocation; but his mind and heart always seem to turn back to the church and liturgy where those joyful men of God serve.

In recent years, it had begun occurring to the Professor that maybe the priesthood was only for “old” guys. He was growing quickly and beginning to discover all that the world has to offer to youth. The entrance of a young and fervent priest into our community made all the difference. It helped that the priest was strong and fast and intelligent and energetic. Professor’s imagination was fueled again and he began to speak in sentences starting with “When I’m a priest, I’m going to….”

After he was invited to serve as an altar boy, his dreams expanded even further. The regular witness and example of the priests (young and old), the excellent fellowship with the other altar boys (yes, all boys), the increased appreciation and knowledge of the liturgy, the time spent with peers and grown men who love the Lord, and the time spent in the Presence of our Eucharistic Lord… these things have all contributed to feed the flame of desire that is growing in his heart.

Moms and Dads: surround your kids with good example and do not hesitate to remove the bad immediately. Model a faithful, fervent, blazing vocation and they will rise in search of that joy.

Fight for It

When I say, “fight for it” I mean that parents should be willing to step outside of their comfort zone to defend the vocation of the child. Not that we know necessarily what that is… but we at least have to be willing to fight for the dream.

Fighting for the dream means walking a different path from most of the world. It means extraordinary diligence in formation and friendships and education and prayer. It means having the courage to protect a child when the world says to let him go and letting him go where God calls him when the world thinks you are crazy for doing it.

Fighting for the dream in concrete terms might mean changing parishes when the example there is detrimental to spiritual formation. It can mean that old friendships are severed when the dream is not honored and seeking new ones in unusual places. It certainly means traveling a rocky road to find a terrain that feeds and nourishes the child’s soul. It also means that the parents must enter into their own spiritual renewal in order to properly direct the son.

Have you begged God to draw you closer to Himself and change your life forever? Do it now and He will grant you the strength to receive the tidal wave of grace that will engulf your family.

Culture

The family culture is vital for the nourishment of vocations because it has the power to help a child unfold the dreams that God has planted deep within the soul. It has the authority, the blessing and the grace to properly support a young person in this discernment, and the love that sustains the courage necessary to risk and fight for the heart of the child.

My middle son (the one we affectionately refer to as “Crash” and with good reason) turned nine this year. He has never before had an attraction to the priesthood and has even told us all about what his future wife will be like. He never wanted to celebrate Mass, he wanted to build houses and put out fires. He didn’t want to wear a Roman collar; he wanted to wear a Carhart. We have never questioned these things about him but only encouraged him to pursue holiness in whatever he does. We love to hear about his dreams and strive to be open and to discuss these things whenever he wants to.

Holy Week for Crash was different this year. He seemed to wake up to the liturgy and took notice of the extensive involvement of his big brother. He observed the healthy and joyful camaraderie of the altar boys and the priests and started to want what they had. He sensed the excitement and importance of the liturgical events, particularly the Easter Vigil Mass. This example of the boys and priests (and deacon) was powerful.

On Easter Sunday morning, Crash bounced downstairs to tell me about a dream that he had. “We were at the Easter Vigil and they were one altar boy short and Father Bona asked ME to serve!” Since he’s not yet old enough to serve it was only a possibility in a dream… but God builds good dreams and Crash thought of it all day long.

A week later, he told me that he wanted to be a priest. To be honest, I was utterly shocked. Really? That’s surprising to hear since you have always said that you absolutely did not want to be one. You’ve always wanted to be a dad. “Yes, I know. I was just sitting here, not thinking about anything, and all of a sudden I wanted to be a priest.”

I picked my jaw up off of my lap. The discussion had changed.

I am not so naïve as to think, “that is that” with the subject. I know how the tides of life ebb and flow and feelings, inclinations and thoughts change. I know that discernment is a journey and that the call of God does not generally follow the path we expect it to. Also, I am aware that I will not be privy to a large part of the personal discernment of my children.

These events have caused me to reflect on my role as a mother and how essential it is that we are attentive to this process in our homes. It is critical that we are open to the possibilities and dreams of our children and of God; willing to discuss and support, encourage and guide; ready to fight to defend those dreams by turning away from some things or being open to something new; willing to be unpopular or lonely or a little frightened by God’s plans; providing example to our children through the living out of our own vocation, and finding a way to keep joy-filled servants of God in their lives.

Professor would not surprise anyone by becoming a priest, but he would make an excellent dad. Crash might surprise a great many people by becoming a priest! But God’s ways are not our ways. I do not know the end result. Until then, I pray fervently that our home is and will increasingly become a place where God’s dreams will always have fertile ground.

Does your home dance to the rhythm of the liturgical year? Or does it live to the beat frantically to the commands of the academic and athletic calendar? It is a constant battle but every day is an opportunity to begin again.

Prayer

Mother and Father, get on your knees… and teach your children to do the same. There is no substitute for prayer. Work and discuss and read and plan as you will, but to grow in love and knowledge of our Lord we must remain in constant communication with Him. Clarity, sanctity and faithfulness are contingent upon that grace. Build a prayerful home and the vocation of the child will enter into his dreams.

Liturgy

Tomorrow morning, the Professor and his dad will travel to the cathedral to witness the ordination of six men to the priesthood. My son is as excited about this event as I’ve ever seen him about any. He wants to absorb everything, breathing in every bit of incense and all the beauty of history and ritual, joy and sacrament. The Mass is where his heart is and this particular Mass has captured his imagination and awakened a little more of his dream.

How can a priestly vocation grow without a love of the liturgy and the very Presence of Christ in the Eucharist? God works as He will and does work outside of the Mass to call souls. The priesthood, however, is primarily about that moment when Heaven and Earth meet in the Liturgy of the Eucharist. If we want to nurture vocations, that is the best place to begin. On our knees. In the Presence of God. Surrounded by servants of God. With Open hearts. Family at our side. Ready to embrace Christ’s dream.

Jesus, I trust in You!

Copyright 2011 Melody Lyons

My youngest daughter has generally been quite charming and compliant at bedtime. She appreciates the value of sleep and loves the opportunity for extra cuddles before drifting off; but there was a brief period during her second year of life when her senses took a departure… and we battled. The “little sleep war” had been going on for a week and, on one night in particular, for well over an hour. She wouldn’t stay on the bed. She didn’t want to be held. She wanted to play. It was 11:45pm and her siblings were awake because of her chatter and we were all very, very  tired. Moans and groans were heard from the various rooms where sleep-deprived children waited for the noise to cease. There was no end in sight and her fatigue was only fanning the flames of her obstinacy. I’d been in this situation many times but not often with this particular child.

………………………………………………………..

Kisses aren’t working. I feel the weight of exhaustion pushing me to my emotional limits. For the sake of all involved, this must end gently but it must end now. It’s time to be firm. I sigh heavily as I prepare to follow through with the most difficult part of motherhood. I resolve not to lose my cool.

“Jellybean,” I say calmly to my defiant little bundle of spunk, “If you do not lay down right now, I am going to leave the room and close the door.” She does not like the door closed but she is not currently rational.

“ME DET DOWN!!!”

I leave her on the bed, walk out of the room and close the door. I hold the handle firmly so that she cannot open it. When she realizes that escape is impossible, she expresses her displeasure loudly. Very loudly. I’m counting slowly to 100. If I open the door too soon we’ll have to start all over again because the lesson won’t be understood. If I open the door too late, she’ll become frightened and learn that I will not come.

38…39…40…41…

My oldest gets out of bed and comes into the hallway. “Maybe you should open the door, Mommy. She’s pretty upset.” Go back to bed, son. I cannot open the door yet.

59…60…61…62…

The younger son yells from bed: “Pleeease pick her up! I can’t sleep with this racket!” You weren’t sleeping anyway, dear.

78…79…80…81…

My 10-year old daughter (whose compassionate heart always inspires me) emerges from her room on the verge of tears. “How can you be so mean to her? Please open the door!” I know it hurts. It hurts me, too. I’m sorry you do not understand.

97…98…99…100

I open the door and a tearful Jellybean runs into my arms. “I’m sorry I had to do that, sweetheart. Are you ready to go to lay down now?” She nods a drippy nose into my shoulder and I carry her to bed. I lay down beside her, she snuggles into me and we talk…

I love you, little one. I don’t like it when you cry. Jesus loves you, too. He wants you to sleep. He made you. He made your pretty nose….

“My nose?”

Yes, and he made your pretty eyes….

“My eyes?”

Yes. He made all of you. He made you His princess….

“Pretty Princess.”

Yes. His pretty princess. He loves you so much.

“Jesus wubs me. Jesus wubs me. Jesus wubs me.”

She falls asleep in the arms of her mama with Jesus’ name on her lips. I am sad that I had to discipline her and that the other children see it as an injustice. I hope they will understand in time that love sometimes requires us to stand behind that door and wait.

While I lay there with her sweet little head on my arm, I reflect on something my oldest daughter said in the hallway: “She doesn’t know you are there! She thinks you are gone. Please open the door.” I recall the times I have wondered why God must hide Himself from us. Why won’t He just open that door? Why won’t He  show Himself?

I know it is unwise to build an image of God based on my own inferior model. I won’t draw the comparison out too far. But my mothering heart catches a tiny glimpse of something true and beautiful about the love of my heavenly Father. Why does He hide from me? I do not know. I do not understand. Many times I have cried out at what seems so harsh. But I know that He loves me. And I know that He will do what is necessary to draw me closer to His protective arms.

Jesus, I trust in You!

Copyright 2011 Melody Lyons

Alas, surely I had misunderstood my vocational calling a decade ago! I could almost hear the tolling of the cloister bells and feel silence, holiness, and unquestionable saintliness flowering within my soul! Almost.

In my less strained moments I recognize that God knew what He was doing when He put me on diaper duty. He handed me the key to Heaven in my vocation as wife and mother (although it’s got some pink sticky stuff on it—must have been at the bottom of my purse for a while).

Before I had children, I would spend silent, focused time in prayer. Holy Mass was a sweet time where I could savor and delight in God’s Presence. It was confusing to me at first to find the situation so altered. I was still to get to Heaven but God was allowing a lot of gooey and colorful distractions to complicate my journey to that final goal (kind of like Candyland, now that I think of it).

My initial objections were whiny at best. I figured that God had made the mistake and that He ought to fix it for me. I didn’t think I could be holy if I had to deal with burping babies and clinging toddlers during prayer time. It took a long time for me to realize that my path to holiness must come through my vocation as wife and mother and no other. Much of my prayer time must come during diaper changes and floor washings. Full mid-day prayer must sometimes become brief cries for Heavenly help. My Morning Offering must carry more weight. And Mass must be a continuation of the sacrifice of motherhood. “I’m sorry, Lord. I am so distracted and tired today. Please bless my efforts and make up for my lack. I love you.”

Yes, I could pray more attentively if I left the kids with a sitter during Mass but that is not the path that God has chosen for me. I said “yes” to motherhood and it is from perseverance in this vocation that I will be sanctified. Holiness for me is through the little ones (oh, and the handsome guy I exchanged rings with, too).

A priest at my parish recently told me that there are many young mothers in my community who stay home with little ones on Sundays, considering it to be the obvious response to the loud, wet, embarrassing challenges we parents all face. It really is a shame. Haven’t they seen my kids? We sit right up front every week. I guess they weren’t there two weeks ago when my darling three- year old daughter belched like a trucker during the petitions. Maybe we scared them off. Honestly, if we all show up together, no single person will stick out!

As a result of this new information and a bit of self-reflection, I am inclined to issue a friendly challenge to all of you moms (and dads) who share my struggles… because we really do need to support and encourage one another on this journey.

#1 ATTEND MASS WITH EVERY MEMBER OF YOUR HOUSEHOLD EVERY SUNDAY.

Exceptions should be rare. Mass should not be viewed as “optional” even for little ones. If mom and dad are not faithful to this commitment, the children will get the wrong message loud and clear. Our example in this regard cannot be overestimated. We need to walk this road as a family, in spite of the challenges, because we belong here together. Making Mass optional for little ones and adults or “dividing forces” may seem easier in the short run but may create a childhood church experience equivalent to an errand to the beauty shop or (shudder) the BMV. The power of seeing a dad at prayer is mighty.

#2 INSIST THAT SMALL CHILDREN BE PRESENT IN CHURCH DURING MASS.

I know every objection to this so don’t even bother! I’m well aware of the dangers of elastic skirts and toddlers. I’ve had screamers who want to “eat too!” during Communion. But they must grow to know and love the things of their faith and grow accustomed to being in the Presence of God and His people. Our best effort will not turn our children into perfect angels but we must persevere with them anyway. The humbling moments that we endure with blushing cheeks will bear fruit which will overshadow the embarrassments over time… and even bless them with humor!

I recall taking my first baby to Mass on Sundays in spite of his repeated efforts to embarrass me into staying home. There was the time he spit up loudly into his great-grandmother’s purse (the one time I was grateful for her failing eyesight). And the time he filled his diaper (so loudly that it echoed) in the middle of Father’s homily. The times they all screamed and threw up and fell down. Changing babies in my Easter best on muddy floors… or in the car. Nursing while perched carefully on the edge of a toilet because there was nowhere else to go. A nose bloodied on a pew bench. And most recently, a loud “Jesus is dead!” from a toddler pointing to the crucifix. I could fill a book and I’m sure you have your own stories.

I remember whispering to my 2-year olds during the consecration, “Jesus! There’s Jesus!” only to find later that I had convinced every one of them that Fr. McManomon was indeed “Jesus!” We are a work in progress.

We attended a Mass recently where I was as troublesome as the children can be (actually worse because I should know better). Something funny happened (I refuse to divulge the source of my hilarity) and I laughed until the tears rolled down my face. I was silent but with shaking shoulders and mortified that I was apparently unable to stop. The kids thought it was a hoot and I prayed desperately to the Holy Spirit to help me regain my composure.

It dawned on me later that my own vocationally related distractions help me to understand so much better the challenges my children face at Mass. It is in many ways a gift that allows me to reach for a hand and say, “Yeah, this can be tough—let’s work on this together.” That means toughing it out even when the baby room seems so much easier. Leave the baby room for the nursing infants and temporary emergencies. Hang out on the edges of the church. Haunt empty pews. Tour the pictures and statuary—anything to stay in church. And when we do go out, make it as brief as possible.

It’s only an hour. I can do it! Heaven help me! Your turn, Daddy. Did I miss the Gospel? Stop taking off your shoes! Don’t lick the floor! Humility. Humility. Humility.

Thank God for my wonderful children and the thousands of daily opportunities to grow closer to Him through this hilarious and beautiful journey. May your own journey bring you ever closer to Jesus and provide the generations to come with an abundance of laughter.

Copyright 2011 Melody Lyons

Do we love our shepherds only when they do what we like? Do we love them for our own sake? Do we pray with “strings attached” that our priests will be made in our own image? Or do we love them in imitation of Christ: selflessly, sacrificially, and for the sake of their own souls and the glory of God?

Suprenant writes: “We esteem the priesthood and like the idea of getting a new priest…Yet…priests tend to fall off the map after ordination. The priests that we do have, day in and day out, are easily taken for granted. Over time their personal quirks or shortcomings overshadow, in our minds, the graces that come to us through their ministry…

And the fact is, serious Catholics and nominal Catholics alike-and everyone in between-can tend to depersonalize priests. We treat them as mere functionaries, as sacramental dispensers, not terribly unlike how we treat tollbooth operators, gas station attendants, and postal workers. We just want to get a “fill-up” of grace without annoyance or hassle.

So, it seems to me that the first step for us is to recognize that behind the priestly garb is a human being. He has forsaken many natural goods so as to choose the supernatural good of serving the People of God (us!) as an ordained minister.

The Church is not a private business or a government entity, but the Family of God, and the priest serves a fatherly role in the local family known as the parish. So clearly the priesthood is meant to be relational and not merely functional. We see in this reality the need to build the bonds of friendship, fraternity, and solidarity with our priests. But how?”

He goes on to give some very excellent and concrete suggestions. In addition to his suggestions, I have searched and found a number of others worth passing on. There is one particular recommendation that struck me powerfully when I recently encountered it:

Love him like a real brother.

I stumbled over it a bit. Our priests are “Father” and now they should be “brother”, too? In spite of my initial confusion I grew to cherish the suggestion. In his priestly office, the priest is “Father.” As an adopted son of Our Father through Jesus Christ, the priest is also “brother”. How do we love these ‘brothers?’ Perhaps we can learn to take them as our very own, helping to defend them soul (and body) in the midst of the spiritual battle that St. Paul exhorts us to remember. Above all, we ought to make sure our ‘brothers’ know that our community loves them as Christ exemplified—unconditionally—in spite of any failings or quirks. My own parish priests are well fed (I hear they could survive for a couple years on the goodies dropped off at the rectory during a single Christmas season) and have a solid brick home to protect them from the elements. So, how do we care for them? Here are some excellent suggestions (including Suprenant’s) for properly caring for our priestly ‘brothers:’

*Get to know them through personal interaction.

*Welcome interaction with your family. The priestly and marriage vocations are complimentary and draw strength from one another. A priest’s presence will help foster vocations in our families and also offer loving friendships to him.

*Deal with difficulties gracefully. “When we befriend priests and treat them with respect, we have earned the right to express concerns in charity to them.”

*Offer positive assistance and encouragement.

*Pray daily for them.

*Pray, especially through the Rosary, that Mary will be a tender mother to them and find them good friends.

*If you say the Liturgy of the Hours, offer it up in reparation for all priests who have stopped saying their Office.

*Pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet asking God to be merciful to His priests.

*Make a regular holy hour for priests.

*Start a prayer chain. Parishioners can divide up prayer hourly so that at least one person in the community is always praying for the priests of the parish.

*Make a regular communion of reparation to the Sacred Heart of Jesus for the sins of priests.

*Beg God that they avoid giving scandal.

*Sacrifice daily for them by fasting or offering a portion of your sufferings for them.

*Pray for newly ordained priests who face unique challenges.

*Pray for new vocations to replace them when they can no longer serve.

*“Adopt” or pray for a particular priest or bishop you find especially troubling, rather than (or in addition to) one you like. This requires greater sacrifice and will strengthen us in the selfless love of Christ as well as building up a struggling shepherd.

*Shield them from temptation.

*Remember them at times when it would be natural to reach out to a real brother.

*Become a saint that they may become saints. “In a real sense, our priests are a reflection of us.”

“As we observe this Year for Priests, we will surely find that we get back far more than we give, as personally and spiritually renewed priests will return the love shown to them in myriad ways, for the good of souls and the betterment of our parishes.”

*All quotes taken from The Proper Care and Feeding of Priests by Leo Suprenant in the Nov/Dec 2009 Issue of Lay Witness Magazine. Read the entire article here: http://www.cuf.org/Laywitness/Online_view.asp?lwID=1909

Copyright 2011 Melody Lyons

I had a woman tell me once that she could not imagine me ever yelling. All I could think was, “Wow. I sure have you fooled!” I certainly do not like to yell. It gives me a headache and often makes someone cry (usually me). There’s almost always a better way to communicate. But it does happen. Let’s take today, for instance…

We’ve recently been battling the tendency of children to leave stuff everywhere pretty much all the time. It’s disorganized and ugly and dangerous. But no amount of lecturing or disciplining seems to make an impact for any extended period of time. So today I was determined to get at least one room clutter free. MY room. Your stuff does not go in my room. Not your shoes or your toys or your dirt. Out! Out! Out!

As I stepped off the bottom step triumphantly carrying a large box of organized old kids’ shoes (that I’d been graciously sharing my space with) I stepped on…a toy. A little plastic petit four to be exact. (Presumably to be consumed with plastic tea.) The box of shoes scattered everywhere as I felt that oh-so-familiar pain of an ankle sprain. I’ve been here many times before but it generally happens while doing something that’s actually supposed to be somewhat risky.

The first thing I want to do at the moment of crisis is to throw out every toy within sight but I cannot effectively do so from my seated position. Then I yell loudly and randomly about little toys and little boys and what are you going to do with an injured mother since I’m the only one who picks up your stuff and makes your food and other silly (and loud) things like that.

I’d taken a crash landing in the middle of the day for a good dose of humility. I don’t want a disorderly home. I don’t want to yell. I don’t want a sprained ankle (even though it isn’t really that bad). Is this getting a little whiny? I don’t want to whine either. Back to the foot of the Cross I go where I can remember His strength by remembering my weakness. I am not stronger than my temper. And I am glad for the 20 minutes to ice my ankle, my anger and my pride as I remember that I’m always leaving things on God’s floor for other people to trip on.

The following passage, taken from The Imitation of Christ (Book 2, Chapter 11), is a faithful companion for me at times like these:

“Jesus has always many who love His heavenly kingdom, but few who bear His cross. He has many who desire consolation, but few who care for trial. He finds many to share His table, but few to take part in His fasting. All desire to be happy with Him; few wish to suffer anything for Him. Many follow Him to the breaking of the bread, but few to the drinking of the chalice of His passion. Many revere His miracles; few approach the same of the Cross. Many love Him as long as they encounter no hardship; many praise and bless Him as long as they receive some comfort from Him. But if Jesus hides Himself and leaves them for a while, they fall either into complaints or into deep dejection. Those, on the contrary, who love Him for His own sake and not for any comfort of their own, bless Him in all trial and anguish of heart as well as in the bliss of consolation. Even if He should never give them consolation, yet they would continue to praise Him and wish always to give Him thanks. What power there is in pure love for Jesus–love that is free from all self-interest and self-love!”

A fruitful exercise is to read the passage prayerfully and ask: Will I remain faithful if nothing goes as planned this season? Will I falter when the decorations and consolations are gone? Will my joy and fidelity be unwavering even in the face of loneliness and suffering? Will I offer Him that same emptiness when the good feelings and emotions pass? Or if they never come? Will I praise Him when my heart is broken and weary just as I do when I am prosperous and satisfied?

Christmas is a beautiful time and I am not suggesting that we avoid the festive preparation and celebration. However, if we do find ourselves suffering an absence of emotional happiness this year, let’s remember that Christ did not come so that we will feel good everyday; He came to offer a peace that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7) and a joy that does not fade when holiday company leaves.

When the emotional high is gone (or never comes) and the tree goes out on the lawn and we feel that we’ve lost something, it’s time to start again. We get back on our knees, turn our eyes to the Cross…. and just keep on praising Him.

Copyright 2010 Melody Lyons

In the first grade, I wanted to be a nun. I wanted to wear a veil and teach children. I used to sit on the steps of the convent next to my grade school and wait for a sister to pass by. In my dreams, a passing sister would ask, “Little girl, have you ever considered being a nun?” Then she would invite me into the convent kitchen and we’d have a long talk. The moment never came.

Throughout the years that followed, I dreamed of being a ballet dancer and a star on Broadway. I wanted to sing and make people cry with my music. I wanted to be fast and strong. I dreamed of being an Olympian. I wanted to be a teacher and change lives. I wanted to be a feminist activist. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to go to a prestigious art school and learn to create beautiful things.

From one perspective, my worldly ambitions and dreams have all failed. “You can be anything you want to be” is the constant, pounding mantra of the schools. It is one of the hard lessons of adulthood that those dreams you spend so much time building as a youth may never actually happen. It may be an even harder reality to achieve those dreams and find them empty of meaning.

But around my 17th year, God began to reclaim His own and introduce the dreams that He had for my life. My future husband appeared in my life and took a risk. He introduced me to an authentic life in Christ and walked with me through my first frightened steps. My conversion to the Heart of Jesus was like taking a step off a cliff; except that this man who loved me never let me look down and he entrusted my safety to the arms of his Savior. It has always been a mystery to me why he chose to love me. He is a very careful planner, logical and philosophical, and several years older; the more I know about him, the less I understand the risk he took and the more I see how powerfully the grace of God was working in my life. When I was 19 years old I married him. I was 21 when I had my firstborn.

As I spent endless hours nursing and rocking my high-need baby boy, I would pray fervently for guidance. I prayed that God would show me the direction for my life and help me to fulfill my dreams. I questioned why He was silent and begged Him to show me who I was to become. In my blindness, I shouted, “What do you want me to DO?!” as I held the answer to my prayers in my arms.

I was so busy grasping at childhood dreams that, for a time, I missed the beautiful truth that He had given to me in my vocation. I was focused on my failures because I had never been taught to view motherhood as a legitimate and worthy life path. I saw that actresses and business owners and scientists and athletes were also mothers instead of the other way around. The moment that I stopped running away from my motherhood was the moment that I began to see God’s dream for me.

I have fulfilled none of my dreams…and all of them.

They have been refashioned by the hand of God to give me a greater joy and peace than I could have dreamt for myself. It is my adventure, my purpose, my path to Heaven.

I still struggle, sometimes mightily. The modern formation for little girls is very linear and masculine; focused on specific future material goals. Worldly success demands clear and constant physical measurement that isn’t always possible with a woman’s vocation. It is the kind of dysfunctional view of life that would cause a married adult woman with a child to continue to ask: “What do I want to be when I grow up?”

We want to win something, get trophies and medals, become millionaires and see our names in lights. It becomes the primary purpose of our lives. Years of indoctrination into that mindset are not easy to undo. We don’t win ribbons or applause or a paycheck for changing a diaper or doing dishes. We may have nothing of worldly significance (other than marriages or births) to have printed in the alumni updates of our alma mater. We spend the entirety of our childhood and youth training to “win” and many of us must overcome the tendency to view our actual successes as failures. By the grace of God I am continually reexamining the gift of femininity, marriage and motherhood and continue to be awestruck by the magnificence of His plan.

My own girls dream big. They want to be religious sisters. They want to be mommies. They also want to be artists and athletes, cowgirls and authors. I want my little girls to dream like that. I want them to see God’s great big beautiful world and dream of their own place in it. But I pray that their dreaming will never blind them to the miracles and purpose present in their daily lives. And hopefully, I can help them see that fully living one’s vocation will provide more reward and adventure than they could have planned for themselves.


Copyright 2010 Melody Lyons

Today, we welcome Melody Lyons to the CatholicMom.com family of contributors!  Melody shares her thoughts and writing at her blog Blossoming Joy. We’re so happy that she’ll be joining us monthly here at CatholicMom.com to share her talents and inspiration with us.  Welcome Melody!

There happened to be a busy mother who had the privilege of attending morning Mass on two consecutive days. On the first day, her husband watched the children and the mother was without distraction. On the second, all 5 children attended with her. Which experience was the more “meaningful” of the two? Let’s take a closer look…

Mass #1: The child-free Mass

I have no difficulty rising this morning and I quietly slip out of the house and run to the car. Ah! Blessed Silence! Even the ride to church is an opportunity for prayerful reflection, like a 7-minute vacation on wheels. There is no squabbling to be heard. No whining. No howling. Not even any whistling. Lovely.

Mass is beautiful, objectively and subjectively. I know Mass is always beautiful because Jesus Himself is the essence of beauty; but this Mass is beautiful to my weary senses as well. I can pray without distraction, listen attentively to the Word of God and the excellent homily, bask in the miracle of His Presence. No one is tugging on my skirt, stepping on my toes or sticking fingers in my ears. I am so grateful for this gift of time alone with Him.

Mass #2: The Mass of my Vocation

Has it ever been this difficult to get out of bed? I’m sure there must have been other times but this one is truly a mountain to be overcome. The kids feel it, too. We press on and I determine that even a bullwhip would be an ineffective motivational tool for my group of little zombies. Out the door into the cold, transferring the sounds of grumpy young life to a new location. We pull into the parking lot and I joke interiorly, “Go on in, everyone. I’ll stay here and have a quiet nap.” We pile out of the car.

Again, Mass is beautiful but I am fighting through weariness and distraction to see it. I know it intellectually and in faith and today that must suffice. My prayer is weak and interrupted. I miss some things. Like the Gospel. Jellybean is pulling my hair and sticking her fingers up her nose and I guess I can’t tend to 3 things at once. The children are actually rather well behaved. I know it is a struggle for them, too, and I applaud their courage. They have no idea that their externally “well-behaved” mother is the picture of an ADHD 4-year old on the inside. It is one of those Masses where the priest says “The Mass is ended, go in peace…” and I say “Thanks be to God!” and mean it on multiple levels.

At which Mass was my disposition more pleasing to God?

My knee jerk response is to say that my attendance at the first Mass was clearly more pleasing to the Lord and more efficacious to my soul. And if only I could get babysitting for every Mass! And if only I could have so much time alone everyday! And if only…

On closer reflection I see that I am perhaps mistaken. What I know with certainty is that my “child-free” Mass was more pleasing to ME. I was comfortable. I was consoled. I was convenienced. But the second Mass was truly a Mass of my Vocation. I was living the life that God ordained for me. It is the path through which I must find holiness.

The mistake in my initial assessment was forgetting that the Christian life is about effort and that comfort level is not an indication of spiritual progress.  Love is an action and Christian love is a suffering love. Love is only pure when it serves the beloved.

I do not claim to know the thoughts of my Lord, but it does seem possible that my weak and weary struggle of mothering through that second Mass was at least as pleasing, if not more so, than the Mass that was “easy” for me. What toil will we offer for love? What sleep will we sacrifice? What hardship will we endure? Even a bad person can do a good deed when it is easy and profitable to himself. The tremendous effort that was required of me at the second Mass was significantly more than the first. In spite of my many failures, I believe that my struggle was pleasing to God because it was a work of love and obedience.

Will I jump at the chance to attend another wonderfully silent morning Mass? Of course! The task of motherhood requires times of regeneration and silence in Christ. But I pray to never forget that sanctity will only come through the embracing of my vocation…and not in spite of it.

Copyright 2010 Melody Lyons