Three days in to 2021, and gearing up for the first real “work week” of the new year. Feeling a bit curious about what is in store, I signed in to Jennifer Fulwiler’s “Word of the Year” website, and found three words in quick succession.
Journey. Rest. Quickly. Hmm….
“Journey ahead. Rest (quickly), while you can”? or
“Journey to a place of rest. Do it now.” or
“There will be rest and the end of your (quick) journey. Hang in there.”
I suppose time will tell.
Tonight I hopped on the stationary bike to watch a Bee Gees documentary and the first episode of my favorite home improvement show, “Home Town” with Ben and Erin Napier. I was also taking up Resolution 1 for this year: at least 30 minutes of exercise a day. Resolution 2 is from my latest audio book, Codependent No More: by Melanie Beattie: Stop nagging. Take control of your own life. Practice better self-care.
That sounds like a journey worth taking, wouldn’t you say?
Author’s Note: The other day I came across a dozen “drafted” posts that I’d written on the fly over the past few years (this one from late April, 2018), and I decided to finish them up and send them out into cyberspace for your enjoyment. So if they seem a bit … I think the word I’m looking for is “anachronistic,” you’re right! But sometimes the Life Less Traveled takes a detour, and that, too, has made all the difference.
To say that my life has changed drastically in the past six months since my mother has joined our household would be putting it mildly. Adding an elderly dementia patient to a house like ours, with two work-from-home parents and two special-needs teens and a couple of VERY spoiled dogs (one of whom cannot sleep at night unless her butt is planted firmly in my armpit) has been a real eye opener.
But it’s also had some real bright spots. And that is the truth. Not just the “You’ll be so glad that you had this time with her when she dies” variety. Though there is that. But there are other perks as well.
I’ve discovered love is a funny thing. The same fashion-forward teen who can’t look in my direction without a snarky comment about my appearance will ooh and aah over her “Mammie’s” new hairdo. It lets me see a kindler, gentler side of her I’ve been missing.
Another member of the household (who shall remain nameless) who emerges from his room (oops) only for Doritos refills will make his way to her little apartment in the basement, just to make sure she is up from her nap in time for dinner.
What I’ve loved most, though, is that having mom with us has given me a fresh appreciation for my mother’s gift for friendship. Her church friends in Georgia haven’t written her off since she’s crossed the Mason-Dixon line to go live in the frozen winterland of northern Indiana. Even though she doesn’t write, doesn’t call, doesn’t send cookies anymore … they continue to love on her in every way possible: on the special Facebook group I’ve set up for her, where we’ve heard from people from my childhood who had passed out of my world years ago. In cards and notes and care packages. And yes, through the occasional phone call on my cell that makes my mother’s face light up when she hears a familiar voice on the other end.
It makes me wonder who will still be calling me thirty or forty years from now … How about you?
This morning I received a note from a woman who belongs to a parish in which the parents would like to form a “children’s liturgy” for young children who have trouble paying attention at Mass. I recently came across this informative article explaining the basis for such a practice, in particular affirming the legitimacy of such a practice: http://www.catholic.org/featured/headline.php?ID=1999
Not all parents will want to participate in this. Some believe their children’s place is in the pew with them, learning reverent behavior by witnessing the participation of adults. And because parents are to be the first and most important educators of their children, this is absolutely their right and should not be discouraged.
At the other end of the spectrum are parents who will want to send their children as much for their own sake than for their children’s — who will not want to participate on the children’s liturgy teams. Depending on their situation, they may need a little encouragement . . . or a bit of forebearance. There was a time when the demands of parenting were so unrelenting, I desperately needed a few moments’ peace. At that time, children’s liturgy was a Godsend. Those who serve on the children’s liturgy teams, then, are ministering to both children and their parents.
Having said that, it is crucial that there are sufficient volunteers, so that the responsibilities can be shared. No one should be in a position of absenting himself/herself regularly from participating in the Liturgy of the Word at Mass. (Children’s Liturgy volunteers may choose to attend a second Mass to fulfill their Sunday obligation.)
Children’s Liturgy should not be an extended coloring session. It should follow a form similar to that of the adults, listening to the readings and responding to them appropriately, using visual aids and other resources to help the children understand what they are hearing. The point of children’s liturgy is not to entertain children, but to educate and inform them until they are ready to participate alongside the adults in the prayers and service of the Church.
If your pastor agrees that your parish should begin this kind of ministry, here are a couple of resources that may help you to get started: