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everyday parenting as spiritual practice

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leap day and lessons from l’arche

12 Comments

I planned to seize the year’s extra day with all the gusto I could muster.

When the Winter-That-Wasn’t lobbed one last Hail-Mary of a storm, cancelling my meetings and leaving us with a snow day to enjoy, I envisioned curling up with the boys, a cup of tea and a pile of good books. An idyllic day of at-home mothering.

Instead I woke up to one boy who wet the bed and another who leaked all over the changing table. Two giant piles of laundry and two hungry children cried for my attention. After a long night (used in the loosest sense of the term by those who don’t sleep), a longer day loomed.

I felt as stuck as the car’s tires spinning at the end of the driveway.

How would I turn this day around? It seemed to promise nothing but cranky children and crummy chores. As I stuffed the stinking sheets in the washer and the baby wailed, my poor brain scraped together one lone theological thought: I need a spirituality for stuff I don’t want to do.

And that’s when I remembered Bernard. And Michel. And Claude. And Philippe.

When I lived in France after college, I worked in a L’Arche community. In our house four assistants lived side by side with six adults with developmental and physical disabilities. We shared the daily rhythms that mark French life – eat, work, play, rest – but with a unique spirit of acceptance and inclusivity.

I didn’t have any experience working with people with disabilities before I came to France. When I learned L’Arche would be part of my volunteer placement, I was uneasy. How would I know how to act? What to do? How to help?

And it turned out that I didn’t need to know anything about Down syndrome or schizophrenia or degenerative disorders to serve at L’Arche.  Tale as old as time, it turned out that I was the one who was taught, who was helped, who was transformed.

The way of life at L’Arche is a daily spirituality of stuff no one wants to do. Wiping drooling mouths. Cleaning up messes. Helping someone learn to eat. Or use the bathroom. Simply sitting with a person who cannot speak.

But this spirituality of stuff no one wants to do becomes a beautiful inversion of the normal way of living, in which speed and success rule the game. L’Arche taught me to slow down, to simplify, to see Christ in the beautiful brokenness around me.

I spent my time at L’Arche doing nothing glamorous. Changing Philippe’s soaked sheets each morning. Helping Claude to get dressed. Cooking with Michel every Wednesday night. Listening to Bernard tell the same incomprehensible stories.

Simple tasks like preparing meals and setting the table took twice as long. Getting out the door was an epic event: struggling with coats, shoes, last-minute bathroom needs. People didn’t sit down when they were supposed to, and they hit others out of anger or frustration, and they broke into loud laughter whenever you were trying to have a serious conversation about something important.

In short, L’Arche might have been the best preparation for my life as a mother of little ones.

Life behind closed doors with those whom society dismisses as dirty or demeaning or a drag can sometimes be stifling. But it can also surprise with pure, rich joy.

Living as a family, living as community – these are schools of humanity. Where we learn that simply being made in the image of God is worth enough for our dignity. Where we set aside success and embrace faithfulness. Where we recognize each other’s brokenness but celebrate the fullness of sharing life together.

No matter how much food gets spilled in the process. No matter how many times the bed gets soaked. No matter how many times we struggle to stay patient.

It’s a spirituality of stuff no one wants to do. But it also opens a way to encounter the God we long to love.

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Comments

  1. Leanne says

    2 March 2012 at 2:08 pm

    Beautiful and inspiring again! I was just reminded of a quote by Mother Teresa while reading “The Domestic Church Room By Room” by Donna-Marie Cooper O’Boyle. “Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do… but how much love we put in that action.” -Blessed Mother Teresa

    That alone has helped me while dealing with an array of bodily fluids from the littles lately!

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      9 March 2012 at 10:43 pm

      The daily sea of bodily fluids will be one thing I NEVER MISS from early parenting. My washer/dryer agree. 😉

      Reply
  2. Brian says

    3 March 2012 at 9:03 am

    I enjoyed your blog. Reminded me of the 5 months I spent at L’Arche Cape Breton after my undergrad program at St FX. In particular, I recall a wintery day in the workshop with Eddie who would regularly pace, sing to himself in almost unintelligible banter and strike out unexpectedly when frustrated. I recall the bleakness of the landscape, the humble surroundings and Eddie’s antics but also the deep sense of peace and privilege to be part of it all. Even after (yikes!) 28 years these and other memories and experiences of L’Arche still sustain me from time to time. Now as chairman of the Board of Directors of L’Arche Halifax I am grateful for the opportunity to help sustain a community here in Halifax where others can create their own sustaining memories.

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      9 March 2012 at 10:45 pm

      Thank you for sharing a beautiful L’Arche glimpse of your own, Brian. Such memories do sustain our wonder at how we were transformed and “the deep sense of peace and privilege to be part of it all,” as you so wisely state.

      Reply
  3. Anita Maroun, SC (USA Eastern Region Coordinator) says

    4 March 2012 at 9:50 am

    I am so grateful to read your reflections on the spirituality of L’Arche – it truly is the making of the mundane into something sacred in holy. It is the great mystery of God – we struggle all our lives to find God and yet God is right here – in front of us, behind us, around us, present in the everyday. We at L’Arche would love to speak with all of you that have experienced L’Arche. We are trying to gather information about how living L’Arche has impacted your lives. This writing is a perfect example. Thank you! Blessings!

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      9 March 2012 at 10:49 pm

      Anita, I have carried your words with me all week: “It is the great mystery of God – we struggle all our lives to find God and yet God is right here.” Such a beautiful yet exasperating mystery! And L’Arche is indeed a perfect example of that. I would love to read more stories of how L’Arche has impacted others. Of course we have the brilliance of Nouwen and Vanier, but L’Arche is a million everyday stories as well. Stories of learning to be human together, stories we need to share.

      Reply
  4. Midge Mougey says

    5 March 2012 at 7:28 am

    What a blessing to read your reflections on L’Arche and making the connection to motherhood. My daughter Kati works at L’Arche…I need to start framing that differently after reading your post…it is not WORK..it is LIFE….it is truly ministry, not unlike motherhood.

    Your posts resonate with me and feelings from afar rush over me and it feels like just yesterday. Just know that your journey is made so much richer by your reflections and your authentic expression. So much of mothering “in the day” was about repressing the feelings that were about “stuff no one wants to do.” By naming the events and your response, you truly free yourself…it truly does open…”… a way to encounter the God we long to love.”

    I love how you are finding God in the little moments and let’s face it, at this point in your mothering journey, most are little moments!!

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      9 March 2012 at 10:53 pm

      Midge, your wise words warmed my heart this week (and on our shared birthday, too!). You remind me how truly freeing it is to bring the shadow sides of my own mothering journey into the light that is writing and sharing them with others. And we do need to affirm the ministries that we are each called to, no matter the work or the title or the life circumstances in which we find ourselves. Beautifully stated.

      Reply
  5. Ginny at Random Acts of Momness says

    5 March 2012 at 11:23 pm

    Very lovely. I’ve always been so intrigued by L’Arche and it is fascinating to see the parallels that you draw to motherhood. Both remind me of that quotation by Mother Theresa, about how there are no great things, only small things done with great love.

    Reply

Trackbacks

  1. L’Arche – Who really needs the programs? « enablingoccupationaltherapy says:
    9 April 2012 at 8:07 pm

    […] leap day and lessons from l’arche (motheringspirit.wordpress.com) Share this:TwitterFacebookLike this:LikeBe the first to like this post. […]

    Reply
  2. take two: working (and praying) | mothering spirit says:
    30 July 2013 at 1:25 pm

    […] the laundry room, two postcards from the L’Arche community where I worked in […]

    Reply
  3. a different assumption for today « mothering spirit says:
    15 August 2014 at 6:12 am

    […] children running around the pews in the parish, the adults with disabilities whom they served in L’Arche homes. They taught me how truth and love are embodied – in laughter, in dancing, in dessert, […]

    Reply

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I’m Laura Kelly Fanucci. Mother, writer, wonderer. This space is where I explore mothering through writing. It’s where I celebrate how God shows up in the chaos of raising children. It’s where I love to build community with readers like you. Read More…

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thismessygrace
If our daughters had lived, we never would have pl If our daughters had lived, we never would have planted this garden. 

There are pockets of beauty in my life today that could not have existed if they had survived.

Acknowledging this does not mean I accept their loss. Or that I wouldn’t trade it all to have them here instead.

But the grieving know this strange, stubborn, saving truth: that goodness can grow in the gaping holes left by the ones we love.

I don’t know any simple ways to make sense of the hard times in which we’re living. As a porous soul, I feel it all and it breaks my heart, even as I cling to what I know is true.

But loving and losing my girls has taught me that life is both heart-breaking and resilient, that surviving is more complicated than we suspect, that most people are walking around shattered beneath the surface.

Sometimes I can catch a glimpse of it, searing as sunlight: the grief in someone’s eyes behind their anger, the burden sagging their shoulders, the past that’s poisoning their present. Few things have transformed my life more than learning to recognize pain in others.

Grief is a long letting go of a life you thought you’d have. Most of us are carrying more of it than we realize—or remember when we’re dealing with each other (especially when we’re tearing each other down).

Go gentle today. Practicing compassion and generosity of spirit will crack open more of the world and its confounding struggles. You might lose the satisfying clarity you clung to before life broke your heart in complicated ways, but you will find more of God in the messy, maddening middle.

I have learned this much from the garden I never planned to plant, from a version of life I never dreamed.
Nearly 20 years ago (!) these crazy kids graduated Nearly 20 years ago (!) these crazy kids graduated from Notre Dame. Now we’re thick in the midst of life-with-kids, celebrating middle school & preschool & everything in between. 
 
Since June is a month for graduations & celebrations, I’m delighted to help you celebrate with @grottonetwork .

Grotto Network shares stories about life, work, faith, relationships, and more. Check out their videos, podcast, and articles to help you reflect on where you are in your journey.
 
Grotto Network has generously given 2-$100 gift cards to Bloomin’ Brands Restaurants (Outback, Carrabba’s, Bonefish Grill & more) to help you celebrate this month with friends & family! It’s a huge giveaway, because we all need to savor and celebrate whatever joy we can find these days.
 
To enter the giveaway, follow @grottonetwork and @thismessygrace and leave a comment below about what you’re celebrating this month. Tag a friend for extra entries (up to 3).
 
Rules: Open to the U.S. only. Entries will be accepted until 6/11/22 at 11:59 pm CT. The 2 winners will be chosen at random and announced on 6/12/22. Per Instagram rules, this promotion is in no way sponsored, administered, or associated with Instagram, Inc. By entering, entrants confirm that they are 13+ years of age, release Instagram of responsibility, and agree to Instagram's terms of use.
“How did you do this?” I want to ask her. “H “How did you do this?” I want to ask her. “How did you let your heart break a thousand times?”

I want to call my mother and ask her impossible questions, to probe her heart that held five children and let each of us go in the hardest ways. But I know what she will say, “It’s hard. But you’re doing a beautiful job.” She can’t give words to the deepest yearnings and groanings. None of us can.

I wish I could ask my grandmothers, each of them gone for decades now, each of them matriarchs who raised big broods of their own. I never got to know them as an adult, but I have heaps of questions: How did you do it? How did you not lose yourself or your way? Or did you, and that was precisely the point?

I want a whole book of answers to impossible questions, and none exists. So I send my thoughts to the mothers of faith whose short stories, mere snippets on pages, have sparked small lights to guide me along. To Sarah and Ruth, Hagar and Rachel, Mary and Elizabeth. Every unnamed anguish the holy ones carried, every treasure of love they held in their heart.

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Imagine if we let ourselves be filled with the Holy Spirit to shout out with loud cries.
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