Childhood
For The Mornings We Yell
For the mornings we wake up determined to make it a better day, and then we don’t— For the times we promise to soak up the sweetness of these fleeting years, and then we wish them away— For the days we want to fill with laughter and song, and then they’re darkened by bad moods and…
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seeing stars in sunlight
“The word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision…He brought him outside and said, ‘Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.’ Then he said to him, ‘So shall your descendants be.’ And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.” (from…
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the sheer aliveness of tonight
My children seemed even smaller today, even more fragile and fleeting. The whole day shifted, slanted towards helpless with the news from Newtown. Everything felt ugly and overwhelming and exhausting, like being punched in the chest, the core of my heart. What to say or do or think in the face of horror, of violence…
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one year a christian
One whole trip around the sun. That’s how long he’s been a Christian. A year ago we gathered with old and new friends, family from near and far. My mother and I dressed my six-week old son in the baptismal gown that four generations of my family have worn. And a young deacon, an-almost priest we met as…
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on bad moods and breaking bread
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…
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the jesus of the cry room
Ironically, they’re the easiest scenes in the Gospels for me to skip over. Yesterday at church we heard the version from Mark. Arguing disciples, who’s the greatest, elbowing each other on the road to Capernaum like bickering brothers: nuh-uh, I’m the favorite. Exasperated Jesus, here’s the least, plunking down the kid in the middle like…
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A Prayer for a Messy Home
Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof… Christ, I’d be impressed if you made it past the driveway. Cracks lined with weeds. Untrimmed hedges. A half-mowed lawn. Plastic children’s toys abandoned to bleach in the sun in that tacky way I swore I’d never let happen in my yard. And if you did…
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morning: mumbling towards mystery
He is up at dawn, hours before his older brother starts to sing. Bright sunlight slips through the slats of his window blinds, enough to rouse his tousled head from sleep. Two rooms over, I hear his protests grow louder. I give up the dream of sleep, untangle my limbs from their warm cocoon and stumble…
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a prayer for wrangling children at church
God of infinite patience, Help me not to lose my mind at church today. When my toddler falls off the pew for the umpteenth time and howls at me, let me not say I told you so! but I love you. When the baby gets so fussy that no one within six pews can hear…
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Where I Saw Christ: Back Pew, Pink Coat
I glimpsed her at the back of a long line trailing down the aisle, shuffling forward in the slow side-to-side dance of people waiting their turn. She wore a bright fuchsia trench coat, hair coiffed in a cute side sweep. Behind her bobbed the heads of two bright-eyed daughters, brunettes like their mother. In her…
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to my son, on the eve of his baptism
Dear sweet boy, Tomorrow you’ll become a Christian. Your wriggling arms and legs will be plunged into a warm pool of water, and your lovely dark head will be slathered with oil. A candle will be lit, and a white gown will be worn. Your family and friends will gather to celebrate, and your life…
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This is my body. Given up for you.
The bodiliness of parenting young children. The meaning of the words from the Eucharistic prayer—“This is my body, given up for you”—have taken on a profoundly different meaning after the experiences of bearing, birthing, and nursing a child. I remember being overwhelmed with emotion (and postpartum hormones, no doubt) at the first few Masses I went…
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