Despite my best intentions, it seems to be inevitable. The chaotic, hurried frenzy that occurs each Sunday morning as we prepare to leave the house in time for Mass. Someone can’t find her shoes; someone else can’t find her tights. Someone is pouting because she doesn’t like the dress she’s been asked to wear; someone else is complaining that no one will let her use the brush. Someone is dawdling and has to be reminded several times to keep moving; someone else remembers to brush her teeth just as we are all getting strapped into the van. And oops, someone forgot to wet down Charlie’s disheveled hair once again.
Sometimes there are squabbles, sometimes there are tears, and often times there is exasperation on the part of one or both parents. In the midst of these unhappy moments, I find myself wondering how we have reached this point as a family and what it is that I am doing wrong. I ponder these thoughts as we drive to church and deeply regret the unkindness that has just taken place.
And then comes another inevitable moment. It may happen while we are standing and singing, or sitting and listening, or kneeling before the Consecration, or extending the sign of peace. But always, at some point during the Mass, I become intensely aware of the beauty beside me. I am given a vision of our family in its essence, of us as we truly are instead of as we sometimes behave. I see the family we were created to be by the One who loves us so completely. At that moment, all is right and good in my little world, and I couldn’t possibly be more content or blessed. I vow never to allow the peace that floods my soul to be shaken.
But it will. Most likely it will be lost again next Sunday morning, probably even before that. That’s okay. Because once again my Lord will whisper to me that although we are not perfect, we are His. He will remind me that although we do not always appreciate the gift of each other, we are a family, stumbling along together on our path toward holiness. And this is all I really need to know. It is more than enough to sustain me through the valleys of our weakness.
8 comments:
My sentiments exactly! We were pushing the girls this morning (for noon Mass!) to eat,shower, dry their hair, take turns dressing our pre-schooler and combing her knotty hair, and left for Mass with damp hair and three minutes to spare. Good thing it’s two miles away!
We got to church during the opening hymn, which I count as on time, and squeezed past an obviously displeased older woman who had positioned herself at the end of the last pew.
There should be an unwritten law that the last pew (in a no-crying room church)belongs to families with squirmy youngsters.
She left early. And I thought it was a relatively well behaved Mass. Christina, the 4 year old, was happy cuddling with Daddy, and all I had to contend with were the 9 and 13 year old girls’ quiet squabbles.
Can the Sign of Peace turn into a torture session? Unfortunately, yes.
But, here’s my point. The very same Christ was there at the moment of grace in the consecration, and I offered Him my family, such as it is, and asked Him to re-make us in His image. Again.
I had a beautiful communion, and left the church as I normally do, lighthearted and ready to do my mothering this week.
Very beautiful! We choose to drive many miles each Sunday to attend a beautiful Old Latin Mass…well, that requires getting two teen boys and a preteen girl to get themselves up and ready to be out the door fairly early. Sometimes there is chaos in doing so and some fussing/squabbling in the car. Then once we’re there and all is right with the world I’m shown a very beautiful view that lets me know that in spite of the struggles I’m doing a very good job….here’s the view – my 18 and 16 year olds vested and serving the Priest and Mass….the bells, the incense, and MY two boys – who sometimes drive me absolutely NUTS redeem themselves every time I see this view. The view continues as I look to my right and see my daughter sitting between my husband and I – everyone is where they belong and it is all OK! :)
I think every mother struggles with this..but not every mother puts it so beautifully!
Well-said, Diane and since your family sounds like mine…well-lived, as well!
Diane, I am so glad you have started this blog! Our family identifies so well with this (elequently written!) post. God Bless you and your lovely family.
This is wonderful, Diane!
Beautifully said, Diane, and so very true.
I agree with Rose….that “you have put it so beautifully.” I’m all teary-eyed!
We are committed to attending Mass a family, and many times I ask myself if it’s worth it. And, the answer from above is always YES! Your post illustrates the frustration, yet the beauty of our imperfect domestic churches STRIVING for perfection. Thank you!
….now, I must get back to my Thanksgiving stuffing!
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