Despite my best attempts, we struggle committing to a formal Christian education time or daily devotion in our house of chaos. I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly why, but it was likely the four busy, beautiful daughters I call my own.
Due to procrastination and a lack of communication I was anxious and alone on an otherwise serene night. The anxiety became anger and then in my anger, I sinned.
During a recent children’s time in church, one of our priests gave each child a slip of four star foil stickers – the ones that typically accompany a good grade on a worksheet from school – colored red, silver, gold, green, and blue.
Sitting around the breakfast table last year, I read through the story of the Annunciation with my children. We paused at the illustration and took in the details. Dirt floor. No windows. I asked, “Does this look like a poor person’s house or a rich person’s house?
Driving up the highway to return a few backup Christmas gifts, I began to meditate on the Christmas season, baby Jesus, and scripture I heard […]
We were at Chik-Fil-A with my younger child for dinner. Earlier that day I had listened to a podcast that mentioned the Big Bang and I asked the kids if they knew about it. They both said no. So I explained the Big Bang and this is how the conversation went.
As I stared at the crowds amassed around our holy family, it occurred to me that with our first child, other than the occasional comment on our parenting and her stranger glare reserved demeanor, we were pretty much left alone as parents to sink or float.
I saw an Instagram post this past week made by a residential program for women who are trying to piece their lives back together after varying circumstances. The picture in the post showed a small child holding a Christmas ornament, the young son of one of the women. The child was entranced with the sparkly red ball in his hands.
Reading some beautiful picture books of the Christmas stories is easily one of the most delightful and simple ways to focus our preparations on the birth of Christ. So head to your library, bookstore, or the Amazon marketplace and while you are at it, pick up some hot chocolate and marshmallows then prepare to snuggle up in front of twinkly lights.
Mary was a distant figure for me before having children. As a child she was the part in the nativity I never got to play (my short brown hair meant that I always lost out to my long blond-haired friends). As an adult, to me she was the venerated saint of Catholics, whose hailing brought a comfort I did not understand. I knew she was important, but I could not relate to her.