O come, O come Advent

My oldest daughter and I were talking last night about how so many of the traditions from the Advents of her younger days have not been quite the same as they used to be.  We have not been visiting Santa Claus the last two years (because the “real” Santa retired and it is just not the same experience without him).  When we went to see our favorite Christmas lights displays last year they had scaled things way back and the experience was a huge disappointment.  And, most of all, she is well past believing in Santa.   

We talked about how the magic of the season feels somewhat diminished.  I reminded her that it is really about Jesus and not about Santa or fancy light displays anyway.  But then I felt guilty because even our spiritual preparations have been somewhat diminished this year…. 

This Advent, like everything else in life this year, has been overshadowed by busyness.  Our celebrations and observances have been sort of thrown together.  I hate that it is this way but I am not the most organized person and distractions keep finding a way of getting in the way of life and wrecking havoc on my very best intentions.   

I am trying to come to terms with the fact that this is life.  Busyness is a part of the chapter of life I am in- with five children ranging in age from 14-3, and three jobs between Tim and I, and home schooling, and the few extra activities the kids are involved in, etc., etc., etc….. And I am learning to find God in the midst of it all.  I am beginning to understand that holiness is serving Him as best I can despite the distractions and struggles.  

Anyway, what I really wanted to share though was that this morning as the younger kids and I were working on an "O Antiphon" craft that I threw together, I decided a little music would set the mood.  I thought a little music might help us to appreciate the O Antiphons and the last little bit of Advent and the special time of preparation and contemplation this time of year should be.   

I was right!  This song by Matt Maher (my very favorite Christian musician.  I love his voice and his songs and, most of all that, he is Catholic) immediately cut through the distractions in my heart & mind.  For a few moments, as I listened, my heart stirred with hope and joy.  And the spirit of Advent came alive for me.  I had to share…..I hope it touches you as well.

How my Grinch plans got stolen!

            What a week we had last week!  Sick kids, changing work schedules, and not one night where Tim and I were both home together with the kids.  We so rarely have this happen.  In fact, a month ago my eleven year old son overheard a conversation Tim and I were having about statistics we had heard concerning the importance of families eating dinner together, and my son asked, in confusion, how a family could possibly avoid eating their dinners together!  Unfortunately, this week, he had the chance to find out!

            As if the busyness and unpredictability of our days  was not enough...  I had seen something on Pinterest I really wanted to do.  It was a recipe for a dessert using lime sherbet and the suggestion to have it while watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”.  Now, that is one of my favorite Christmas movies (the old half hour animated one, not the newer live action one).  And, my daughter had been requesting sherbet for dessert for a while.  I thought it would be fun to buy the kids the green dessert (skipping the fancy recipe and just having the sherbet plain) and curl up as a family with the movie.  I thought it would be even more fun to surprise the kids with my plan.  

As SO often happens, my plans did not work out as I hoped.  First, I wanted to have our movie/dessert night on Tuesday evening, but the aforementioned sick child and changing work schedules prevented that.  Wednesday was out from the start. So, Thursday was my second choice but-- did I mention changing work schedules?  Thursday did not work out.  Friday did not seem an option- I was “on call” at work and would likely have to help close the store that night.   

It was beginning to look like our Grinch movie and dessert surprise was doomed to failure.  But then it turned out, I was not needed at work on Friday and would be able to spend the evening with my family.  Finally, a night that we would ALL be together.  I decided we would load the kids up in the car and swing by the store to buy our treat, then watch our movie before bed.  

            A perfect plan, right?   But on the five minute car ride home from the store with our sherbet, my daughters got in an argument.  My nine year old let her temper get the best of her.  Her behavior was such that she did not deserve a special treat and was told she would have to go right to bed without dessert or movie when we got home.  

I hate, sometimes, having to follow through on discipline.  Our daughter came to us, in tears after putting her p.j.’s on and brushing her teeth and apologized, begging to be included in the fun.  We felt bad.  But, Tim and I try very hard to stand firm, in order to teach our children that their choices and actions DO have consequences.  So we sent her off to bed alone while the rest of the family shared a special evening. 

Our dessert was yummy, and the movie was cute and meaningful, as always.  But, without the whole family in on the fun, our night was not as special as it was supposed to be.  So much for my plans……

Merry Christmas

This morning we woke up to a few very special "gifts" under the Christmas tree.  No, Santa had not come a day early.  My children had decided, after hearing one of my favorite Christmas memories of sleeping under the Christmas tree with my sister and brother one year, that they had to do it too.  We had to talk Tim into it, but at his slight smile and nod, they all grabbed their sleeping bags and pillows and snuggled up beneath the festive branches.  He and I heard them talking and giggling for hours after we had gone to bed.  What a special treat it was for them.  

The last-night-of-Advent slumber party was only the beginning of the excitement and joy...

  

Today is Christmas Eve and tomorrow Christmas Day, of course.  The children are giddy with anticipation and I can practically see the visions of sugar plums dancing in their little heads.

May your holy-day be joyful and special and full of the love of God and family! 

From our house to yours....Merry Christmas!

"The Wreath Game"

            We have a lot of special Advent and Christmas traditions.  Most of them, Tim and I thought about and planned, thinking about the true meaning of the season and ways we could prepare for and celebrate the birth of Jesus. 

     One of my children’s favorite traditions this time of year, however, did not arise from calculated forethought.  Somehow, all on their own, they decided several years ago it would be fun to count wreaths.  They watched out the windows of the car as I drove around during December and started noticing all the festive decorations around town.  I do not know why it was the wreaths they decided to focus their efforts on but as I said, somehow a tradition was born.  It is known affectionately as "The Wreath Game" around my house.

one....

This is probably the fourth year of wreath counting, and so far, it is off to a great start.  The tallies, marked on pieces of scrap paper retrieved from the floor of the minivan, are rising quickly.  “I have seen 24,” one child will shout and the others will chime in with their latest numbers.  I must remind them repeatedly that our wreath counting is just for fun, not a competition.  Yet, they seem to be trying to top each other’s numbers constantly.  We have, thankfully, had no real fights over wreath numbers though there have been a few claims that have been disputed.  “You did not see seven more wreaths in the last two minutes!”  So far, we have been able to handle all disputes peacefully, mostly by my reminding them again, that wreath counting is for fun and not a competition.  

two....

 Anyway,  this morning alone, as we drove to math class and back, the children saw upwards of 140 wreaths adorning the doors and windows of our friends and neighbors houses.  We took the long way around two different neighborhoods to give them an opportunity to look for even more wreaths.    It is such a silly meaningless little thing, but they all get into it and enjoy it every year.  From the 13 year old to the 2 year old (who cannot really count at all) it is fun for all.  I’m hoping that people will keep their wreaths up long enough that the 2 year old will start counting properly any day now and maybe by next year she’ll be ready for adding and subtracting, maybe multiplying and dividing, maybe algebraic equations …. 

three....

A little like Scrooge

            I have a confession to make.  I have not been really looking forward to Christmas.  Back in October, when the first realization of the upcoming Christmas season hit me, I felt a sense of mild dread.  All I could think about was:

·     the same old Christmas music on practically every radio station on my car pre-sets (does anyone else loath that upsetting song about the dying mother and her special Christmas shoes, or that inappropriate song about “Baby, it’s cold outside” as much as I do?), 

·     the crowded traffic I would have to fight and the long lines I’d have to stand in at Wal-Mart when all I need is a bottle of shampoo or a case of diapers, 

·     the stress of trying to find time to do some shopping when my children are with me ALL THE TIME,  

·     trying to find a better place for the Christmas tree but probably  having it take up all the space in my classroom, forcing the kids and I to be creative in where we do our work each day,  

·     to-do lists, and Christmas card lists, and the children’s wish lists, and junk mail asking for charitable donations for charities I have never and would never support, and special Christmas sale coupons and catalogs, catalogs, catalogs, etc. etc. etc. cluttering my countertops.  

I was feeling quite a bit like Scrooge as I thought about all the chaos and madness the season brings with it.

    Then, last week after Thanksgiving had passed, I started really thinking about everything I needed to do to get ready for the rapidly approaching beginning of Advent.  I had to get the Advent wreath out of the storage bins in the garage,  pull out our Advent prayers, find our version of “O come, O come Emmanuel” amidst my children’s recent MP-3 downloads on the computer, and get our Jesse tree ornaments ready.  As I thought about it, I realized-- I was not dreading these things at all.  In fact, the more I thought about praying our beautiful Advent prayers before our wreath with (this week) one purple candle glowing and our Advent music playing in the background and the scent of incense wafting through the kitchen, the more I was filled with joy.   When we went to Mass on Sunday and sang (just like we would later at home) “O come, O come Emmanuel” and saw the church all decked out in purple and listened as the priest blessed the Advent wreath and watched the lighting of the first candle, I was filled with even more joy.

     It seems a little silly because it should have been so obvious but it was not Christmas season I was dreading, it was all the distractions that come with the season.  I was dreading the busyness and craziness and materialistic commercialism-- not the joyful anticipation of our Savior’s birth, or the beautiful, peaceful preparations we make in our Church, our home, and our hearts.  It is the preparations that are spiritual and meaningful that I look forward to each year and it is all that other stuff that I sometimes dread. 

I still wish I could avoid the streets and the stores this month but since that is probably not possible…….  I guess I should just offer up those unavoidable trips to Wal-Mart for diapers and focus most of my energy on the stuff that really matters this time of year. 

Life in a family

Today is the feast of the Holy Family.  The day we celebrate and honor Jesus’ family.  I have been thinking a lot about family lately.  About my own family, and our extended family and how while some relationships within our family are wonderful, loving, and close, others are strained, awkward, and full of tension.  The homily at Mass this morning was all about family and was so good I wished I could tape record it to listen to over and over.  The priest spoke about how we all come from a family and even our Lord Jesus came from a family.  How our families are so important and how they should be a source of faith, love, and peace.  He also admitted that families are not always what they should be, and sometimes are not so faith-filled, loving, and peaceful.  It seemed every word out of his mouth this morning mirrored the thoughts that have been swirling around in my mind for the last week or so. 
    Christmas is such a beautiful time for families and my own childhood Christmas memories are filled with scenes of family all around.  We would always make the trip to visit our extended family though they were far away.  We would celebrate Jesus’ birth with aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents.  My grandparents' house would be filled with laughter, talking, and gifts spilling out from under the tree, stacked high waiting to be given in love.  We would gather around the table and share a Christmas feast with all those to whom we were bound in love surrounding us.  My big, extended family growing up was not perfect, of course.  The adults often had differences of opinions.  The children, cousins and siblings alike, had disagreements and feelings were hurt.  But, we were family and though things were not perfect there was always love enough for everyone and, always, that connection to each other.  We may have argued but we also forgave.  We may have disagreed but we cared enough to get past it.  Maybe because I grew up with a strong connection to my extended family, family has always been very important to me.  I knew, growing up, that I was a part of something bigger than my own immediate family.  I knew that, though they lived far away and we did not see them as much as we would have liked, I had a whole, big family who loved and cared for me. 
    It is so important for children to grow up in a family.  Important enough that even our Lord was born into a family.  Even Jesus grew up with the love of his grandparents (Sts. Joachim and Anne), cousins, and (obviously) aunts and uncles.  He grew up with the love and support of extended family because, as our perfect example, He knew that we all need a connection to our family to know who we are, who we belong to, and where we have come from.     
    My own children do not have as many opportunities to be surrounded by extended family as I wish they did.  In some instances, it is only because of physical distance.  In others, it is because of emotional distance and tension between the adults involved.  I wish that it could be different.  I wish my children could see the cousins they love and adore more often.  I wish they could see their loving aunts and uncles more.  I wish they knew the love of all their extended family and could see, with everyone all together, that they, too, are part of a whole, big family. 
    But, as the wise and holy priest at church this morning said, families are not always just as they should be.  Ours is not always what it should be or what I would like it to be but even with our imperfections, my children know they are loved.  Though our extended family is not perfect, I am grateful, for what my children do have.  They know the love of their grandparents.   The aunts and uncles they do get to see are always kind, caring, and generous to them.  They love their cousins and keep in touch with most of them through the internet (the kids love Skype) and occasional phone calls and, when we can work it out, wonderful, fun filled, memory-making visits.  They have even had the chance to meet many of their great aunts and uncles and to build a close, loving relationship with their great grandmother.  And, of course, they always have me and Tim, and each other, to shower them and surround them with love and affection.  We do not get to choose our family.  Ours is certainly not perfect in every way but I pray the strained relationships will one day be close and loving.  And in the meantime, I am grateful that my children are growing up connected to so many of the people who love them completely and unconditionally.

The Final Countdown

    The last few days of Advent are upon us!  I am not sure where all the time has gone but in just days it will be Christmas at last.  At our house, the shopping is *almost* done.  The Christmas cookies are made.  The cards (yes, I did reconsider and send out a few) are “signed”, sealed, and delivered.  The Advent candles are almost down to nothing.  Visions of sugarplums are already forming the minds of my little ones.  Tonight night we will attend the Reconciliation service at Church and then, the only thing left to do will be to wait.  As a child, the waiting was always the best and worst part of Christmas for me.  I loved the feeling of anticipation during Advent and all the special things we would do to get ready for Christmas but it always seemed to last so very long.
    My mom would do everything she could to stretch out the waiting even once Christmas morning arrived.   I am not sure if it was the mounting excitement that she knew came with the anticipation or if she was just taking the opportunity to teach us a little patience.  She claims she really and truly wanted to make it last as long as she could because she knew it was all so magical and special for us.  Whatever the reason, she would make us all wait for her and my dad to get up before we could even go downstairs to see our presents.  The four of us kids would all line up at the top of the stairs after waking our parents and wait….. for what seemed like f-o-r-e-v-e-r.... for them to get out of bed and join us for the walk down the steps to the living room to see what Santa had brought.  As we waited, my sisters and I would sit and wonder what might be awaiting us but my brother would inevitably get too excited to sit still and would dart down the steps for a quick peek before mom and dad emerged from their room to catch him.    Finally, after descending the stairs as a family, we would be allowed to open our stockings and see what gifts were there but we could not open anything under the tree until after our parents got their coffee and settled themselves on the couch to watch the unwrapping.   The coffee always seemed to take longer to brew on Christmas morning as we eyed our gifts so eager to see what they contained.  Even then, after all that stalling, we were not allowed to just dive in and start tearing off paper haphazardly.  We would take turns.  One child opening one gift at a time, around the circle, so we could all watch and see what treasures our siblings received, and they could see what ours were as well.  It would take hours but how wonderful my memories are of those Christmas mornings spent all together around the tree sharing our presents and our joy with each other.
    I appreciate all the waiting now that I am grown.  I can see that that is what Advent is all about.  It is about waiting, as Mary and Joseph waited.  They waited to welcome their baby, they waited to see what God had planned for them next, they waited to see how His plan would unfold in their lives.  They waited for their journey to Bethlehem to come to an end. They waited for a place to stay, patiently enduring the doors of inn after inn being shut in their faces.  Much of the Christmas story is about waiting.  And, about anticipation.  And, about trusting along the way, growing closer to God as we prepare, like Mary and Joseph prepared, for the coming of our Lord.
    Like my mother, I will try to encourage my children to wait, to anticipate, to look forward, not only to the wonder of presents on Christmas morning but, ultimately, to the joy of welcoming Christ.  I wish you happy waiting, joyful anticipation, and…. finally a merry, merry Christmas.

Christmas cards- a thing of the past

    We haven’t gotten many Christmas cards this year.  We, actually are not sending them either- I think Facebook, and the “connections” we make there have convinced people that once a year communication through Christmas cards is no longer so meaningful, or maybe it is the cost of sending all those cards all over the country.  For us, it was a combination of the two things….  Despite the fact that we aren’t sending them, I still really enjoy receiving Christmas cards.  I was looking at the few cards we did receive and smiling at the smiling faces pictured on them.  I loved the picture from our friends who welcomed their third child this year, a baby girl to join their two boys.  And, the picture from our friends who had their second child two days before we had our fifth.  Their son, who last year was a tiny baby, is now a toddler sitting big and proud on his mommy’s lap in the picture.  It is amazing how quickly time flies, a fact that always seems to hit me hard on my children’s birthdays.  It hit me pretty hard again this morning, looking at my Christmas cards and realizing that, like my friends’ children, my children are growing and changing so quickly.
    It was just last year that our Christmas card picture included a tiny, little infant sleeping in festive red p.j.’s.  This year, getting her to sit still long enough for a picture is a monumental feat.  It was two short years ago that, just days before Christmas, we found out she was coming and announced to her sisters and brothers on Christmas Eve that the best gift would be coming in nine months.  Now, of course, she is here and enjoying the wonder of the holidays like only a toddler can.  She is fascinated by it all.  The candles on the Advent wreath that she loves to “foof” at reminding us that the real purpose of candles is to blow them out (or so say her siblings who get an incredible thrill in the blowing out of candles).  The tree glittering brightly in the family room, full of amazing new “toys” that she desperately wants to get her hands on.  The Christmas cookies we have been making for the last week, and especially licking the spatula after mommy is done mixing with it.  She has had a perpetual chocolate moustache for a week now.  Next weekend, we will visit Santa for pictures and then, of course, there are all the gifts that are coming on Christmas morning.
    What joy our little one has brought to our Advent preparations.  My older children have stopped believing in all the magic of the season but through their baby sister are able to experience and enjoy a new sort of magic- the pure delight of her youth and the awe in her little eyes.  All of the sudden the traditions they have known all their lives are a new and special experience as they share them with the little sister they all adore.  We took them out to see some of the more spectacular Christmas lights displays in the area the other evening and the older kids had such a great time pointing out all the beautiful decorations to the baby.  “Look at the light up duckies,” they screeched.  “Do you see cute little seals in the front yard?”  they asked excitedly as she took it all in completely expressionless.  Even our five year old, who still firmly believes in all the magic is enjoying sharing it with his little sister.  He has explained how Santa works to her.  How she must behave if she wants toys on Christmas morning and how Santa will deliver them only if she is sleeping.
    Though we were sure not sending Christmas cards this year was the right decision, I am starting to reconsider now.  What a beautiful moment in time they capture.  A moment that will be just a memory before we know it…

Missing Mother

    Nothing frustrates me more than losing things.  Lots and lots of things frustrate me.  Whining toddlers, getting stuck behind slow people in traffic, that game that my children play where they repeat everything they hear. “Stop copying me!”,  “Stop copying me!”, “I mean it, stop now!”, “I mean it, stop now!”   It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.  But losing things makes my blood boil like nothing else in life.  I remember one time when I was about 17, I lost my wallet.  It had in it my driver’s license and whatever little amount of money I had to my name and I could not find it anywhere.  I remember looking everywhere, turning the whole house upside down, completely baffled as to where it could be.  After searching high and low, I was so irritated and upset I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t even see straight.  The wallet finally turned up in the basement, though I never could remember taking it down there. 
    I lost my keys for several months a few years ago.  I had spent the day with my grandmother, who had just bought a furnished double-wide mobile home about an hour north of us.  When I came home with the (then) four kids and all the stuff they had brought along to play with, and all the various things Nana had sent home with us, I spent a few moments putting everything away to avoid leaving the mess of junk at the front door.  Somehow in the midst of all the stuff my keys disappeared.  I could not find them anywhere and, of course, the expensive electronic locking/unlocking thing that comes with all keys these days was missing along with the rest of the key ring.  We could not afford to replace that.  Talk about frustration.  I ended up using Tim’s set of keys to the minivan and finding a spare house key to make do with, giving up entirely on ever finding my keys.  Then one day, literally months later, I pulled out of the closet a set of sheets that Nana had given us because they were twin bed size and she had no twin beds in her house, and low and behold there were the lost keys all folded up inside. 
    This morning, I woke up and sat down on the couch to snuggle with the baby for a few minutes to enjoy the beauty of the Christmas tree.  I was sitting for about 30 seconds when I realized one of the ornaments was missing.  The baby has been stealing ornaments, rearranging ornaments, and tasting ornaments since we put the tree up over the weekend so the fact that one was out of place should not have been even noticeable much less surprising.  This was a special ornament though, purposely placed in the center of the tree, up much too high for little hands to reach.  It was one of a set of three, hand-painted by my mother, ornaments from my childhood that depict the Holy Family.  There on the tree was baby Jesus all wrapped in His swaddling clothes and next to Him, St. Joseph all dressed in brown with his hands folded in prayer and on the other side… just an empty branch.  The Blessed Virgin Mary was missing!  And on the eve of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.  I searched under the tree, sure the ornament had just fallen off somehow.  No Blessed Mother.  I searched in the tree, peeking through the branches.  No Blessed Mother.  I searched around the tree and looked at every branch in case she had been relocated, though I could not, for the life of me, figure out who would have done that.   No Blessed Mother.   With the kids help, I searched through all our library books, through all our Christmas books, through the overflowing “Pack n’ Play” that has become our toy box, through the hall closet, and under all the couches and chairs.  Still no Blessed Mother.  At this point, I was bordering on frantic.  How could we lose Mary?  And especially this Mary, that had been a part of Christmas since as long as I could remember.   I prayed, and asked the kids to pray, to St. Anthony, who is the patron saint of lost things.  I was at a loss and kept picturing Mary accidentally tumbling off the tree and being picked up by the baby when no one was looking, only to be deposited in the trash can or some strange place we’d never think to look.  Then, finally, my oldest daughter put her hand into the branches of the tree and pulled out Mary, unscathed and holy and peaceful as always.  I don’t know how I missed her in my crazy searching but thankfully she was back and hung again lovingly on the branch next to her baby and husband.  All was well again. 
    Since then we have lost a math book and a sippy cup full of milk, but I am trying not to let that frustrate me.  As long as we know where to find Our Lady and Our Lord, we are doing just fine.   Nothing else really matters in life, and the milk, at least, is sure to turn up eventually…

The most wonderful time of the year

    It is a great time to be Catholic.  Here we are, having just celebrated the feast of Christ the King and the beginning of the new liturgical year with the first Sunday of Advent.  Now we can look forward with anticipation to next week when we will remember the generosity of St. Nicholas with gifts in our shoes, honor Mary on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception by attending the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and continue our preparations for Christmas, which is only weeks away. 
    In our house we are enjoying our nightly Advent prayer service.  After dinner we dim the lights and light the first purple candle on our Advent wreath.  This year, for the first time, we bought some incense sticks from Wal-Mart and are including that with our prayer time also.  The quiet room, with the children’s faces glowing and their eyes sparkling in the flickering candlelight, is bathed in peacefulness as we watch the smoke of the incense curling up towards heaven and smell the scent of Church at our own kitchen table.  We listen to a beautiful rendition of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” and pray our Advent prayers followed by the Divine Praises.  The children take turns leading the prayers.  This time truly feels reverent and sacred as we pray together as a family.   Of course, as soon as prayers are over the children all argue over who is going to blow out the candle but at least we have a few moments of peace and prayer each evening. 
    Our school projects reflect the season and this joyful time of waiting too.  We started our Jesse tree this week.  It sits in the middle of our school table and creates quite a focal point, reminding us what we need to focus on as we spend time studying the “family” tree of Jesus and the history of salvation leading up to His birth.  Each day this week we have started our school days with the Jesse Tree scripture passage of the day and the corresponding ornament for the tree.  The kids love coloring the ornaments and hanging them on the tree and it gives us a little something special to look forward to as we continue to school through these first few weeks of December. 
    This weekend we will put up our Christmas tree and all our decorations, including our beloved nativities.  We have been collecting nativities for years now, giving the kids a new one to open every Christmas Eve.  We are up to about 20 beautiful crèches and my goal is to have them everywhere you look in my house at Christmas time.  Considering my house is not that big we are almost there.  Even without our decorations adorning the house, I find myself with little glimmers of that magical Christmas feeling in my heart. Still, I am very eagerly anticipating being surrounded by our scenes of Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds and wise men all waiting in the stable for baby Jesus to arrive. 
    What joy this season provides.  It is truly a time of preparation and anticipation in our Church and in our home.  And the miracle of God’s love is all around us.  This would be the perfect time of year if only I could feel some love and peace while standing in endless lines at the store…

All are welcome, the tall and the small

I love the whole Christmas season. I love the time of Advent as we prepare for the birth of Jesus and the many opportunities it provides to spend time together with family and friends.

Several years ago a Protestant friend of mine invited my children and me to join her at her church for a Christmas concert the choir was putting on. Though, my friend had never before attended the annual Christmas concert at her church she had heard that it was a very family friendly event. It sounded like a wonderful evening and I gladly accepted. At the time, she and I had two children each and they were all toddlers. So with the four kids in tow we entered the church to find that we were the only ones with children at the event. Still, being a cradle Catholic and used to having children, sometimes lots of children, around during any and all church functions I did not think much of it. The Pastor's wife apparently did. It seems at their church children were not a part of their worship time. Children went to Sunday school during their church services and this concert was, in fact, not really a family event after all. The adults who had gathered to listen to the beautiful Christmas music were not expecting to have four giggling, screeching children as the background singers. We were encouraged, within minutes of our arrival, to please put our children in the nursery. We dutifully gathered them up and set off only to find the nursery room dark and locked up with no nursery attendant anywhere to be found. After letting the children run around on the church walkways for a little while we put them back into their car seats and set off for home. Though I could certainly understand that the concert was much more enjoyable without the children there, I remember thinking how sad it was that the kids were not welcome in the church.

This past Sunday our own church announced that they would be having an Advent prayer service followed by a pot luck dinner on Dec. 1st. It sounded so wonderful, as I had been really hoping to have a spirit filled, prayerful time of preparation for Christmas this year. Of course, Tim and I now have five children of our own and though they are not all toddlers, they are very energetic and full of youthful exuberance. In contrast, our parish, being in Florida after all, is primarily retirees and elderly people. We realized and fully expected that if we attended, Tim and I were likely to be younger than all the other worshipers. Still we really wanted to go and share in the prayer time and furthermore, we wanted to participate as a family. And so, despite our reservations, we packed the children up and set off, optimistically toting our steaming hot pot luck dish along with us. Before going into the church, we dropped off our pot luck offering in the parish hall which had several elderly people milling around. Our boys, who are 4 and 8 years old, immediately started to run, weaving between the tables which were beautifully decorated in purple tablecloths with candles glowing in the centers. So far, it wasn't looking like it was going to be the peaceful, prayerful evening I was hoping for. Nevertheless we went into the church which was dark, quiet and filled with the scent of burning incense. We took a seat not far from the cry room, anticipating that we would end up there in short order. As I looked around the church I noted that we were one of only a few families there, and the only one with five small children along. Almost immediately a women got up and approached me from the end of our pew. "My name is Sister Deborah," she said, " I just want to let you know that if your baby fusses do not worry about leaving, it is music to God's ears."

Now, I probably don't have to even tell you how the rest of the evening went. My heart was filled with such joy to be so blessed to be a part of the Catholic church, a church that encourages big families and supports and welcomes us all. The children, though not perfect, were fairly well behaved and the baby made only happy little cooing sounds but I suspect I would have enjoyed the evening just as much had they been less than pleasant. I appreciated the fact that we were all there together and that each and every one of us was welcome there. I could feel that our beautiful Church was overflowing with the love of Christ, alive in the tabernacle and in hearts of all those around us. What better way to celebrate this joyous time of year.