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everyday parenting as spiritual practice

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on bad moods and breaking bread

22 Comments

It started off as a lovely morning. Until.

Isn’t that the way it always goes?

Until the baby smeared yogurt all over his third outfit of the morning. Until the preschooler dawdled away all our free minutes pushing strawberries around his plate. Until one child cried for help getting shoes on the right feet while the other tipped over my tumbler of tea and the dog howled for help and suddenly everyone was wailing and white-hot anger surged through my body, tight and hard and shaking and ugly, and I found myself screaming at the top of my lungs I cannot DO this, God I cannot DO THIS!

And finger-snap fast, the bright sunny morning is brooding and dark. We’re sulking in the car and I’m racing through stop lights and both boys are sad-quiet in the back and all I can think is this is not how I want to live. Yelling at my kids and running late and stress pounding in my temples.

I take a deep breath, two, three. I ask for forgiveness. I promise I love them. I sing a song to cheer the mood.

But all morning long the memory lingers.

I pray as I stroll the baby down sun-dappled streets. I plot ways to ease the morning crunch. I plunk down five dollars at the bakery for the big boy’s favorite loaf of fresh bread.

And then we’re driving home, and he’s full of school day chatter and the baby is babbling smiles and I am overwhelmed with the rush of love and joy and guilt and fear that sweeps over every day of mothering. God, I love them so much and they’re such sweet, small things and I hate my rotten temper and I hope I’m not ruining them.

Rare is the day that comes easy, but how I wrestle with the days that come hard.

At lunch’s end, I pull the loaf of still-warm bread from the paper bag. Something feels sacramental. I tear off a hunk and offer it to the boy I screamed at hours earlier. He grins and accepts. I do, too.

We both chew, quiet and content. I think about Eucharist. Does it help us forgive? Liturgy and sacrament classes swirl in my head; I can’t remember a single connection. But it feels good to slow down and break bread. That much I know.

Before nap time we’re snuggling over a pile of books. As he dives under the covers, he asks if we’re going to do prayers next. I start to say no, that prayers are for bedtime, and then I hear my own words. Of course, I reply. Let’s pray.

He launches into “Our Father…”and I hum along, half paying attention. Until.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us.

Bread and forgiveness, I realize. There it is. I swallow back the lump in my throat, kiss his mop of hair as he turns away on the pillow.

What we need daily: bread and forgiveness. That much I know.

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Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Megg Donnelly Baade says

    27 September 2012 at 3:02 pm

    Your so talented. Love this.

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      27 September 2012 at 9:25 pm

      Thanks, Megg. 🙂

      Reply
  2. g says

    27 September 2012 at 3:10 pm

    beautiful, gorgeous, father allen was all up in that post!

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      27 September 2012 at 9:26 pm

      Oh dear Fr. Allan! I thought of him so many times this weekend as we unpacked books…I came across so many of his liturgy books from when he gave them all away – to his swan song class! Love that man.

      Reply
  3. Lydia says

    27 September 2012 at 3:39 pm

    I love this so much. Yes, yes and yes. Admitting here that rare is the day that I get through with no regrets. But yes, Bread and forgiveness make the world right. Praise God.

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      27 September 2012 at 9:27 pm

      Oh, they do make the world right – well said. Thank God for that.

      Reply
  4. Stephanie Romero says

    27 September 2012 at 5:09 pm

    Oh how I remember those days when my three were young. I was convinced that I had “ruined” them. With one of my children grown and two in their teens, I can tell you, they are not ruined. Bread and forgiveness is right…and your children will learn that, right along with you.

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      27 September 2012 at 9:28 pm

      Thank you, Stephanie. I do think I am teaching them a lot about forgiveness, for sure! And I do try to make myself take the long view, to remember that surely I’m not scarring them and they won’t remember this in the long run…but isn’t it always so hard in the moment?

      Reply
  5. HomemadeMother says

    27 September 2012 at 8:08 pm

    Love this post for SO many reasons!! THANK YOU!

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      27 September 2012 at 9:29 pm

      So glad it resonated…thank you.

      Reply
    • Stew says

      15 October 2012 at 12:33 am

      I really identify so much with this. I was home taking care of my kids and some mornings I was determined to have a good day and not lose my patience and then a chain of events would end up with me yelling at my kids. It feels so awful… the second after you do it! I remembered that these beautiful little beings are looking up to me. Sometimes, when I paused for just a moment the idea would come to me to “take a break” and I would say, “Daddy’s going to take a little break.” and I would lay down on my bed with the door shut and breathe and pray and breathe and pray. (This was when they were about 9 and 5 and I knew they were safe in the house while I stopped to take a break and change the frustration building up.) And after I calmed down on the mornings when I yelled, I would go to each one and apologize to them for yelling and tell them how much I love them.
      Now they are older, 11 and 7, and I am in a challenging new stage of life where my older one is becoming so independent and doesn’t rely on me and I am battling this rising fear that I won’t always be there to protect him from a bully or from a friend or group of friends that through “peer pressure” push him to do something unsafe. He is a very thoughtful and responsible kid and I have no reason to suspect he’ll do something that is sketchy…but I also remember many sketchy things that I did as a kid. I WANT to be able to say with conviction, “See: God took care of me, so of course God will take care of him.” but I haven’t been successful at instilling this trust deep inside even though I’ve been praying about it. I didn’t really notice that these fears were creeping up on me until they just sort of spilled out of my heart and mind. If you have any prayers around this idea or other prayers you recommend, send them my way. I read your blog about the prayers from Creighton U’s online ministry: good stuff. Thank you for your blog!

      Reply
      • mothering spirit says

        15 October 2012 at 7:41 pm

        Thank you, Stew, for sharing your own story of frustration and forgiveness. I love the idea of more prayers around this idea…will have to think on this some more. (Seems like I have plenty of similar days with which to revist the theme!)

        Reply
  6. rootstoblossom says

    28 September 2012 at 9:47 am

    Yes. Exactly. I can’t do this, or I don’t want to do this anymore, or how did I get here? All those hurtful thoughts keeping me from enjoying my life as mom. But those thoughts pass, and once again I am grateful to be on this journey and sharing it with my loving family.

    Reply
  7. elaine says

    28 September 2012 at 3:48 pm

    Thanks. I needed to read this today.

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      30 September 2012 at 9:02 pm

      Thanks for your note, Elaine. It helps me to know I’m not alone either.

      Reply
  8. Thrift Store Mama says

    28 September 2012 at 10:13 pm

    Lovely post. I hate losing my temper and yelling at my kids, I just hate it. The resulting “sad quiet” is just so sad. I am so grateful It happens much less frequently now, and grateful to be able to take a deep breath, tell my children I’m sorry, and ask God for forgiveness. Take another deep breath and start over again.

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      30 September 2012 at 9:02 pm

      Thank God for starting over! Sometimes I admit to cheesily invoking Anne Shirley’s refrain that tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it yet.

      Reply
  9. aschlatt says

    29 September 2012 at 11:50 pm

    Aww! This is great! I have such a fiery temper. I need to read this every day! Thank you!!!!

    Reply
    • mothering spirit says

      30 September 2012 at 9:00 pm

      I think I need to reread it most days, too. 😉

      Reply
  10. Lauren L. says

    3 October 2012 at 3:10 pm

    I love this. I love the honesty of this. It’s so easy to fall into the trap of “I had a lovely day until [I started talking to people…you pissed me off…the weather wasn’t what I wanted…work went crazy].”

    It’s hard to let go of the “until,” to not put limits on the loveliness of days. (It’s hard to forgive myself for splitting infinitives too.)

    And the Our Father…it’s such a powerful prayer. I’ll never forget the strength of those words “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” mumbled as I sat in chapel across from a woman, a dear friend, with whom I was having a difficult time. Those words washed over me and, after a period of time, healing took root.

    Grace is an incredible thing.

    Reply

Trackbacks

  1. an (un)surprising end to an (un)surprising year « mothering spirit says:
    31 December 2012 at 4:10 pm

    […] quiet moments full of God: doing nothing and resting after, slowing down and listening, living and forgiving each other. I watched us each relax into the rhythm of hours together in the heart of our home, a […]

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  2. Featuring: On Bad Moods & Breaking Bread | says:
    10 June 2015 at 9:08 am

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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

thismessygrace
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. 
 
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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.

Is it any coincidence that birth often brings both cries and screams, laughter and joy?

We hold it all within us. We cannot give words to the enormity of what it means to mother.

I sit outside a coffee shop two blocks from my children’s school on a sunny afternoon, the last day of the year. I wipe away tears for the natural nostalgia, but I also feel the gutting grief welling up from my own wounds of motherhood to know a deeper truth: marking milestones with love and longing is nothing compared to the gaping loss of not having your child here to break your heart in a thousand tiny ways.

So I resolve again, a hundred times again, to let this vulnerability become the strength that keeps me fighting for all children to have what I want for my own: life, love, health, safety, support, opportunity, community, hope. This is how parenting asks us to change. To let the particulars of our lives stretch us to love more widely.

I once thought “to mother” meant to have and to hold.

Now I know it also means to let go.
Many of you asked me to save these suggestions I s Many of you asked me to save these suggestions I shared after the school shooting in Uvalde.

Remember: we can’t do everything, but we can each do something.

Just because we can’t eradicate evil overnight doesn’t mean we can’t take small strong steps toward change.

Any work for justice and peace is long and hard. But we can build this work into our daily lives in concrete ways.

Look at the children in your life. What would you do to keep them safe and alive?

Start there. Let your life and love lead you.
When women meet, the world changes. Today is the When women meet, the world changes.

Today is the Feast of the Visitation. A day when we remember the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth.

Two women pregnant with new life, blooming with prophetic power.
Two mothers called to change the world.

What would happen if we gathered together like this today?
How could the world change if we made Mary’s song our own?

“He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.”
(Luke 1:51-53)

Imagine if we stayed in this holy space—not for a moment’s meeting, but for months together—to gestate the dreams God was waiting to birth through us.

Imagine if we let ourselves be filled with the Holy Spirit to shout out with loud cries.
Imagine if we lifted our souls with prayers of justice and joy.

Imagine if we gave each other strength and service, courage and compassion, as we kept asking how to answer God’s call in our ordinary lives.

When women meet, the world changes.

If you want to know how to fight for justice for your children, for your people, for this world, look to the Visitation.

The mothers will show us the way. They already have.

(Image from the “Windsock Visitation” by Br. Mickey McGrath, OSFS, commissioned for the Monastery of the Visitation in north Minneapolis.)
Here’s what I wish I would have heard preached t Here’s what I wish I would have heard preached today on the Ascension.

Right now is a time to be prophetic and pastoral, a time for each of us to ask how God is calling us to act.
I am writing this to us next week. When our right I am writing this to us next week.

When our righteous anger will have quieted down. When the white-hot fury pulsing through our veins will have subsided. When the news cycle will have moved on.

Do not forget how we felt tonight.
Stay angry. Flip tables.

We cannot live like this. Literally—our children are dying. Our elders are being murdered. We have accepted violence as—a way of life? An unfortunate side effect of freedom? A helpless shrug?

No. I am not resigned.
Stay angry. Flip tables.

Remember how it felt today to hear the news and feel the world crack open—again, for we have heard it a hundred times now. Remember how you felt sick to your stomach. How the children around you glowed, alive and fragile, miraculous and vulnerable.

Remember how you wanted to do something, anything, how you wanted to act, how you wanted to stop and scream for it to end, how every cell in your body cried out that this was evil and unjust and horrific and cannot continue.

Press into that memory like a bruise.
Stay angry. Flip tables.

The only way anything changes is if we change. Change what we believe. Change who we support. Change how we vote. Change where we give. Change how we act. Change how we speak. Change how we pray.

There are no easy answers to terrible, complex problems—which is what gun violence in the US has become. But the lack of easy answers makes it all the more urgent and vital that we press into our righteous anger and say NO MORE.

Stay angry. Flip tables.

I am writing this for us, for tonight, for next week. And I never want to write it again.
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