The Smallest Gift

Lately there are many things in the media speaking about women’s rights and women’s freedom. In my short lifetime of 24 years there has always been the controversy around abortion and now we are freshly confronted with the HHS mandate disputes. Now, even though I am tempted to confront the issues themselves I am sure there are others who are much more qualified to write about them and my views can also be found primarily in the truths outlined in the Catholic Catechism. But I like to stick to what I know and as a young wife and mother I know what it is to be daunted by the prospect of a not-so-planned pregnancy.

At 21 I got married and a month later we moved to Italy together. We both had jobs working on an American campus about 45 minutes outside of Rome. We of course were open to having a baby at any time but I was also very nervous about having a baby in Italy. I didn’t know if pregnancy would jeopardize my employment and I was wary of the Italian healthcare system, being totally ignorant of it.

I remember going to confession shortly after marriage and telling the priest that I was lacking faith in the Lord with my fear of pregnancy. I didn’t know if he would think I was a bad Catholic when he heard this, but instead he looked at me with love and said “I want you to pray to our mother Mary and pray that she reveals to you the consolations of motherhood”.  I thought about that for a long time and today I still do think of that advice. In prayer I would repeat to myself “the consolations of motherhood… what is that?” I knew what it felt like to babysit other children and to dote on them, but I had no idea what having a child of my own would entail. One of the most terrifying things is the unknown. And at the time, pregnancy and motherhood seemed very unknown.

We arrived to our new home in Italy in July and we were presented with a positive pregnancy test in September, the weekend after my 22^nd birthday. Steve and I were so joyful, but I would be lying if I didn’t say we were also shocked. I didn’t know so many things: what pregnancy would be like, giving birth, being at the mercy of an Italian hospital, how my boss would take the news after I was a new hire, and how much the necessary healthcare would cost—I was overwhelmed with unknowns. But the great thing about being Catholic and Christian is the complete certainty that the Lord knows. Every little fear I had, I knew the Lord not only knew intimately but also had a plan for.

The birth went well and we had a perfect, beautiful baby girl and now all those fears that I had pale in comparison to the greater gift of life that they surrounded. Now I think of the consolations of motherhood and instead of drawing a blank so many things come to mind—seeing the actual face of my child and holding her in my arms for the first time, the joyful exclamation of “Hi Mama!” I receive every single morning when I walk into Abby’s room, the unexpected little hug or kiss or smile given when most needed on a bad day. I also think of the privilege of motherhood and pregnancy and feeling a baby kick that not all women are blessed with and remind myself to be thankful for it. These are things not to be treated or prevented like a disease but things to remain in awe of, that our Lord would trust us with them. I gave up complete control for the greater gift of joy. To me, there is no right or freedom that could compare to this gift.

Holy Week

Holy week is a serious time for us Catholics. It is considered the most holy, solemn week of the liturgical year. We know priests are having a purifying and sanctifying week, we witness their hours spent in the confessional, marching down the aisle night after night for holy week services, kneeling before altars of repose, leading the stations of the cross, presiding over masses, and who knows what else they may be doing when not surrounded by parishioners. I have visions of various forms of corporal punishment, bread and water and other holy and pious things.

Then there is me. As Christ aptly reminds us, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, and my mind and level of focus are daily reminders of this. As a young mother of a nearly 2 year old mass can sometimes be a challenge. The more engrossed I become in prayer and the more I ignore my daughter in mass the more those around me suffer her disturbances. Sure, I have fantasized about ditching her in the cry room and taking some alone time to pray in mass but I don’t think the unsuspecting public in there would be so keen on me unleashing my exuberant 2 year old on them. Yet as many excuses as I have for laziness in my focus and prayer life, I somehow know that just because I am not an ordained person doesn’t mean that I am not still called to be holy and close to the Lord. I want to love the Lord and be his dear friend but the perpetually nagging question is—how?   

            In some ways the most difficult part is being still, being still and attentive before the Lord. Forcing my mind to be still and not to worry about my daughter or what I’m going to make for dinner or what errands I need to run but to focus on the gravity of the presence of Christ in the mass and in my life. My husband and I just finished a Jeff Cavins’ Bible study on Acts with the parish in which he spoke of entering into the Lord’s rest on Sunday at mass. Cavins impressed upon me how much the Lord desires us to truly enter into His holy, renewing presence and to rest there. As an inexperienced mom still trying to grapple with succeeding in this vocation of motherhood sometimes the hardest call I receive is the call to slow down and stop, to stop and praise the Lord and give Him my time, which I am in the habit of dividing and guarding so fiercely.

            I know my limits. And I know that just because I am not an ordained religious doesn’t mean that I am not called to the same level of holiness in the sacrament of marriage. Creativity needs to win out. If Christ could focus in prayer in the garden of Gethsemane on the eve of His Passion and death, can I not find a way to praise Him with just one small child and a house that I am attempting to run? Holy week is upon us and I have such a desire to enter into it. But these things don’t just happen. The sacredness of my time depends on the preciseness of my planning. I need to plan out confession, stations of the cross, mass and prayer time just as our priests do. And most importantly I need to show up. Not just in flesh but in spirit and in mind. Just as we look for the priest’s presence at holy week events I know the Lord is looking for me.

Luckily, I am not without direction, the apostles leave us great examples in Acts of the power of prayer and fasting. As Mother Theresa said “There are no great acts only small acts done with great love”. It is the daily battles of clinging to the Lord and trying to be patient even when my daughter Abby is throwing a tantrum or when I don’t want to wake up for morning mass that I need to fight. The path is bumpy and imprecise but I look to the holy people God has put in my life as examples of warriors, fighting the good fight in small ways, and hope that I will use the grace God gives me to make a sincere effort at having a prayerful holy week this Lenten season.