Stations of the Cross ... Bringing them Home during the Coronavirus Pandemic

Lenten Friday during a Pandemic. Sharing a few ideas on how to pray the Stations of the Cross from home ...

Our favorite way to pray the Stations involves placing fourteen votive candles across our mantle, with a black and white etching of each station taped below. Then, as we read a station we blow out the corresponding candle until, when the last one is blown out, we sit in the darkness in silent contemplation. On Easter morning we gather to read the 15th station, and instead of blowing out a candle, we light an Easter candle in celebration.

As a family, we love praying the Stations of the Cross using candles; it encourages active participation, and by reading aloud, lighting candles and then blowing them out, we become part of a ritual as old as time itself.

Here is a link for the etchings.

This year I decided to try something different. Rather than using our mantel, I placed fourteen tea lights in a French bread serving board and, as we sat around the kitchen table, we took turns reading a Station and then ceremoniously used a candle snuffer to put out the candle.

Another idea is to pray the Stations of the Cross virtually via Skype or FaceTime. I plan to do that with my parents. We will also have our traditional Sunday dinner together via Skype.

There are many versions of the Stations of the Cross. Sometimes we like to keep things traditional, sometimes informal, sometimes short and sweet. Here are some ideas:

St. Alphonsus Liguori
Scriptural Stations of the Cross
Stations of the Cross for Children

The Stations below are from my childhood. They are perfect for fidgety toddlers or antsy teens and are often a springboard for discussion.

Finally, Pope Francis gives us 8 reasons why we should pray the Stations of the Cross, and no matter if we meditate upon them in church or around the kitchen table, the important thing is to enter into the story, follow in Christ's footsteps as he heads to that cross on Calvary, and then be guided from that cross to resurrection. 

FIRST STATION: JESUS IS CONDEMNED TO DEATH
Jesus, we stand in silence as you are condemned
by Pilate. Standing in silence is not new to us; we have stood in
silence as you went hungry by our tables, as you were orphaned
in our wars, as you walked powerless in our world. We stand in
silence because, like Pilate, we are bowed, broken, and afraid.
Give us the courage to speak in your behalf. Amen.

SECOND STATION: JESUS ACCEPTS HIS CROSS
Jesus, we watch you bear you cross and do not
understand. We are afraid of suffering. We flee sickness,
sorrow, and pain. But you carrying your cross says something
different about suffering. Help us to follow you even when we
do not understand. Amen.

THIRD STATION: JESUS FALLS THE FIRST TIME
Jesus, you have fallen with your cross. Everywhere
we see signs of weakness: in our Church, our nation, our world.
We see dissension, controversy, turmoil. We do not understand.
Our faith falters. Help us know and understand your strength
beneath the cross. Amen.

FOURTH STATION: JESUS MEETS HIS MOTHER
Jesus, we are moved by Mary’s love for you. She
saw beneath your grime and agony. She saw your hidden beauty.
We know she does the same for us. We need to be understood
these days, and with Mary we are not alone. Amen.

FIFTH STATION: SIMON HELPS JESUS
Jesus, we have to admire Simon. He took up
your cross and followed you. He had so little doubt, so
little hesitation. We see you suffering all around us: in
the poor, the powerless, the misunderstood. We are often
hesitant to come to your aid. We find so many excuses.
Grant us the wisdom and the courage to help the least of
our brothers, and in doing so we help you. Amen.

SIXTH STATION: VERONICA WIPES THE FACE OF JESUS
Jesus, you rewarded Veronica for her courage.
You left your face upon her veil. Help us forget our fears
and reach out to serve others so you will leave the imprint
of your face upon our lives. Amen.

SEVENTH STATION: JESUS FALLS THE SECOND TIME
Jesus, you must have been discouraged by your
second fall. We, too, know discouragement. Our best efforts
sometimes end in failure, and life does not bring us peace. What
shall we do? We will imitate your example and try again …
even in the face of futility. Amen.

EIGHTH STATION: JESUS SPEAKS TO THE WOMEN
Jesus, in the midst of your sufferings you had
compassion for others and their pain. Too often we are so
self-centered. We want pity, kindness and understanding,
and yet, we are unwilling to do the same for others. Help us
forget ourselves. Awaken us to the pain of others. Amen.

NINTH STATION: JESUS FALL THE THIRD TIME
Jesus, your third fall is the beginning of your
death agony. Our world I filled with dying people: in war,
in famine, in hospitals, on highways. Many this day will die
alone. May our prayers be some comfort to the dying. Amen.

TENTH STATION: JESUS IS STRIPPED
Jesus, there is something fearful in thinking of
you stripped before the crowd. Even the privacy of clothing
is taken. You have given up everything for us. May we have
the grace to give of what we have to help our brothers and
sisters around us. Amen.

ELEVENTH STATION: JESUS IS NAILED TO THE CROSS
Jesus, the pain of those nails was unjust. Your hands
which did such good and your feet which walked on errands of
mercy are now punished. You received little gratitude for the good
you did. Help us to be like you: to give, and ask nothing in return.
Amen.

TWELFTH STATION: JESUS DIES ON THE CROSS
Jesus, you have the greatest love for us. What
can we say in the face of it? We can only try to imitate
you by responding to the brothers and sisters you have
given to us to love. Amen.

THIRTEENTH STATION: JESUS IS TAKEN DOWN
FROM THE CROSS
Jesus, you are laid in the arms of your mother.
The agony is over, but resurrection is not yet. Your Father’s
plan requires patience. So it is with us. We reach moments
when only patience can carry us on. We know that something
better will come … but when? Help us find some of your patience
in our lives. Amen.

FOURTEENTH STATION: JESUS IS LAID IN THE TOMB
Jesus, the end of life is so definite. We fear it
deep within. We do not want to die, but help us understand
that our lives are but a prelude to a new life … a life with
you and your father. Amen.

O, Our Jesus, guide us from the Cross to the resurrection and teach us that evil shall not have the last word, but love, mercy and forgiveness. O Christ, help us to exclaim again: "Yesterday I was crucified with Christ; today I am glorified with Him. Yesterday I died with Him, today I live with Him. Yesterday I was buried with Him, today I am raised with Him." 

– Pope Francis, Good Friday, April 18, 2014

Spring Break and the Kindness of Strangers

Two years ago, when Nicholas was a senior at Clemson University, the Nonni let him and three buddies use their Myrtle Beach timeshare for spring break. It was their last moment of freedom before graduation.

This year, it is Jonathan's turn.

After four years of working every summer and holiday, this is Jonathan's first official spring break. He and his three roommates left Sunday morning and stopped on the way at Nonna and Nonno's house for lunch. In honor of Timothy's birthday the Nonni had prepared a veritable feast: grilled ribs, pasta salad, potato salad, bruschetta, vegetables, oven potatoes, and ice cream cake.

It was so nice to have those young men--all seniors--seated around the table. They talked about their plans for the future in the fields of accounting, business, environmental science, and marketing. They were all charming, polite, and paid attention to Timothy, the Birthday Boy.

Before they left we loaded their car with beach chairs, a basketball, a football, and a few bags of groceries.

They arrived in Myrtle Beach, checked in, and went to dinner at Myabi Japanese Steakhouse, a hibachi-style restaurant on Broadway at the Beach. It's a very nice restaurant. Seated at their table was a middle-aged couple who must have been impressed with our guys because at the end of the meal ... the couple paid for ALL FOUR OF THEM!

I think their spring break started off well.

It's All About Giving Thanks

 

It's All About Giving Thanks
by Maria Novajosky, Guest Columnist


*published in the Columbia County News-Times, November 23, 2015

(delivered with Sunday's Augusta Chronicle)

            It doesn’t take much more than a holiday and a meal for our Italian-American family to gather in celebration, and Thanksgiving is no exception. People often ask if our Thanksgiving meal in any way reflects our Italian background, and while the immediate answer is yes (for with an Italian mother anything involving food reflects our Italian heritage), the answer is also no because Thanksgiving is the one holiday my mother uses to celebrate all things American, an opportunity to pay homage to a land which welcomed her with open arms.

            My mother came to this country as a young bride on the arm of my father, a soldier in the U.S. military; she was only 20 years old and determined to embrace this new life. She took language classes, became fluent in English, learned to drive, and volunteered for the American Red Cross. When my parents lived in Washington D.C. during the racial unrest of the sixties, my mother studied American history to understand what was happening.

            When she was 32 years old she stood before a judge in Savannah, GA and was sworn in as an American citizen. She had her picture taken under the American flag, and her nationality would henceforth be hyphenated, a bridge between the words Italian and American, between the country she was from and the country in which she now lived.

            Those two words also meant my sister, brother, and I got the best of both worlds. We spoke Italian with our Nonna and English at home; we ate gelato in Venice and an ice cream cone in Disney World; we explored the hills of Tuscany and the streets of Manhattan; and while holidays in our family were a beautiful blend of both cultures, there were some things quintessentially American that my mother embraced – and the traditional Thanksgiving meal was one of them.

            She had a lot to learn, however, and it took years of trial and effort to get it right. In one of her earliest letters to her mother, she described this strange, white cooking stuff that came in a blue can (Crisco shortening); she had never eaten turkey, much less cooked one; she had never heard of sweet potatoes (why, in America even the potatoes are sweet!); and she definitely didn’t know what to think about cranberry sauce or Jell-O (all that jiggling red stuff didn't look like food at all).

            It took years of trial and effort, of studying Betty Crocker and cutting out recipes from Good Housekeeping, but today my mother has perfected the art of the Thanksgiving meal. The moist turkey, the perfect balance of brown sugar and marshmallows in the sweet potato casserole and, yes, the dish of jiggling cranberry sauce are all displayed with a sense of pride on how far she has come. Two ceramic pilgrims decorate the dining room table, and in the afternoon everyone heads outside for a family game of backyard football or softball.

            Of course, there are small concessions to our Italian heritage: we sip espressos with our pumpkin pie and have a small glass of limoncello as an after dinner digestivo. But it is an American meal celebrating an American holiday, and with a rousing Buon Appetito! three generations of our family gather at Thanksgiving to honor the American half of our Italian-American heritage.

Cappuccino and Cake

I'm coming to you in the darkness of the early morning because it's a special day.

It's a day which celebrates one of the things that is a source of daily joy for me, something which also happens to be the best  accompaniment to a good book, early morning prayer time, a rainy afternoon, and cozy chats with friends.

Today is National Cappuccino Day!

Oh, cappuccino, how I love thee! The daily ritual of firing up the espresso machine, frothing the milk, brewing an espresso, and then combining the perfect balance of thirds--1/3 espresso, 1/3 milk, 1/3 froth--keeps me grounded. It may sound melodramatic, but a cappuccino is a little smidgen of magic in an otherwise perfectly ordinary day because--and let's be realistic--although my cappuccino may be balanced, daily life can be anything but.

Which brings me to THE CAKE. The Confirmation cake I ordered for TIMOTHY, but with the words Happy Confirmation, Jonathan! (yes, the wrong son). When I shared this story, I received all sorts of helpful advice: take the cake back and have the bakery fix it, scrape off Jonathan's name and put lots of candles in the blank space, or change Timothy's confirmation name from St. Francis to St. John. Two people even offered to come over and share their professional baking skills to fix the problem.

But you know what? As I was enjoying my cappuccino the morning of Confirmation, I had an epiphany. Life is crazy. Life is wonderful. Life is funny. Life is a hodgepodge of the insane. And that cake, which had become a topic of conversation, a source of laughter, and the reason for a flurry of text messages and emails, was a metaphor for life. Our life. So it was absolutely fine--wonderful! great! fantastic!--to have a Confirmation cake with Jonathan written on top when it was Timothy's Confirmation.

In a strange, wonderful way, it made perfect sense.

So, on this National Cappuccino Day, I wish you a day filled with the zany, the wonderful, the messy, and everything in-between.

All of which pairs very nicely with a expertly frothed cappuccino.

Halloween Days of Yesteryear

This year, Halloween will be different.

This year, we won’t be building a costume around a hat plucked from the Hat Box, or scrambling to pull together a costume at the last minute.

This year, we won’t leave the Nonni in charge of giving out candy while we walk around the neighborhood talking to neighbors as our sons run up and down driveways.

This year, we won’t gather around the kitchen table with the evening’s bounty, everyone burrowing through the pile looking for their favorite treat—a Babe Ruth (me), Sour Patch Kids (the boys), Hershey’s bars (Joe), Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups (Nonna), or any candy bar (Nonno, who likes it all).

This year, for the first time in over 20 years, we won’t have a child trick-or-treating. There will be no puppies, court jesters, Mr. Potato Heads, cattle rustlers, Harry Potters, Luke Skywalkers, pirates, football players, or Uncle Si.

Which is why this year ... I am thinking of all the Halloween days of yesteryear.

The story of a fountain

Two years ago I wrote a post entitled, The Fountain in the Piazza. It was the story of one fountain in Verona, and the generations of my family who have posed in front of it. Last night, I found a photo of my father, in front of the same fountain ...

clockwise from top left:

my mother (left) with her sisters

my father, 1966

family in the piazza, 2010

with my mother, 1967

me, 2015

our sons tossing coins in the fountain, 2010

with my aunt Paola, 1967

Speak to Me Sunday, vol. 7 (a quote and an idea for seven books)

This week I have two golden nuggets of inspiration. One quote and one idea ...

~1~

This past Friday we traveled to Milledgeville for Jonathan's initiation ceremony into Phi Kappa Phi, an all-discipline honor society. During the ceremony, Dr. Samuel Muttiti spoke about his work in Kabwe, Zambia where a 100 year old government-run mine and smelter has resulted in highly toxic levels of lead, cadmium and zinc in the soil. Here, in one sentence, is the point of his talk:

"Whatever you do, whatever your major, do it honestly, ethically,

to the best of your abilities, and in the service of others."

~Dr. Samuel Muttiti

keynote speaker, Phi Kappa Phi Initiation Ceremony

~2~

Today we are headed to Columbia, SC for my nephew's Confirmation and, per our tradition, we are gifting him seven books representing the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit.

The list changes depending on the recipient and his/her interests. For example, with our eldest son (an avid reader) I included many literary classics, but with our middle son (who would rather dribble a basketball than read a book) I included several sports biographies. Sometimes the list includes the Bible (if they don't already have one) with their name engraved on the cover. Sometimes I explain which book represents which gift of the Holy Spirit, and sometimes I let them figure it out; mostly, I try to find books that are appealing, inspiring, thought-provoking, and stand the test of time.


Dear Thomas,

For your Confirmation, we wanted to give you seven books representing the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit. As you read these books, we pray that the Holy Spirit will reveal his gifts so they will help you grow in your faith.

Be a gracious receiver of these gifts! St. Teresa of Avila said, “Christ has no body now on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours; yours are the eyes through which Christ’s compassion is to look out to the earth; yours are the feet by which He is to go about doing good; and yours are the hands by which He is to bless us now.”

Thomas, allow the Holy Spirit to guide you and watch in amazement as God works through you, with you, and in you.


Love,
Uncle Joe, Aunt Maria, Nicholas, Jonathan, Timothy

1. The Gift of Wisdom gives us the desire for the things of God.

The Robe (by Lloyd C. Douglas)

2. The Gift of Understanding enables us to know more clearly the mysteries of faith.

Of Mice and Men (by John Steinbeck)

3. The Gift of Counsel helps us to see the difference between right and wrong.

To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)

4. The Gift of Fortitude strengthens us to do the will of God in all things.

The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)

5. The Gift of Knowledge enables us to know oneself and to know God.

The Hobbit (J.R.R. Tolkien)

6. The Gift of Piety gives us a deep respect for God and for the Church.

Daily Meditations with the Holy Spirit

7. The Gift of Fear of the Lord enables us to recognize an all powerful God.

Unbroken (Laura Hillenbrand)

St. Joseph Feast Day Box

Today is the Feast Day of St. Joseph, or la festa di San Giuseppe! It's a big celebration in southern Italy, and it's one we celebrate as a family. Some years we go all out and host a big party, inviting the parish priests and setting a table filled with Italian food and wine; some years we celebrate quietly with just the family; one year I hosted March Bunco and shared the tradition with my friends.


This year I wanted to give the means for our older boys to carry on the tradition no matter where they are in the world, so I prepared a St. Joseph Feast Day box and mailed it to them. The contents included: a small St. Joseph statue, prayer cards, a published article I wrote on St. Joseph, the story behind the tradition, a package of pasta, a container of breadcrumbs, and fava beans.


Now, I don't know if my sons will do anything more than open the box and give its contents a cursory glance. And that's okay. But maybe, on a March 19 in the future, they will share the tradition with a girlfriend or some roommates; maybe one feast day they will prepare a simple pasta dish and set out a bowl of breadcrumbs signifying sawdust of St. Joseph the carpenter; and maybe there will be a year when they will need the comfort of family and tradition and reach for the box.


St. Joseph will be waiting for them.

**********************************************************************************


You can read about our traditions below:


I Never Knew, a published article about my affinity to St. Joseph


Celebrating Italian Style, how we celebrate St. Joseph's Feast Day


Photo collage of St. Joseph celebrations through the years ...

Lenten Friday: Oreos and Fortnite

Things haven't changed much around here. One year our little guy gave up all cookies for Lent EXCEPT Oreos ... when all he ate was Oreos. This year our not-so-little guy gave up computer games EXCEPT Fortnite ... when all he plays is Fortnite.


"Mom," says our little guy yesterday. "Don't put cookies in my lunch. You keep forgetting that I gave up cookies for Lent."

Now, as we are having this conversation he is sitting at the kitchen counter with a tall glass of milk and a stack of 6-8 oreos. Dunk - munch, munch. Dunk- munch, munch.

"What do you mean?" I ask. "You're eating cookies right now. You've been eating cookies ever since Lent started!"

Dunk - munch, munch.

"No one gives up Oreos for Lent," he explains matter of factly. "I gave up all the other kinds, like chocolate chip."

Huh. I'm thinking that's like someone giving up all sodas for Lent except Diet Coke ... when all they drink is Diet Coke.

He smiles, a very oreo encrusted kind of smile.

Okay, then.

I reach for an Oreo and ... dunk - munch, munch. After all, I did NOT give up cookies (of any kind).



What we made yesterday ...

Tortellini.


Over 600 of them.


And it was a family affair.


When the older boys arrived home from college on Friday, we made the announcement.


Us: "Tomorrow we're having lunch at Nonna and Nonno's house. Nonna is making homemade minestrone and bread."


The boys: "Yeah!"  "Sounds great!"


(They really, really like Nonna's minestrone.)


Us: "Then, as soon as we're done eating we're going to make tortellini!"


The boys: Silence.


(I'm positive they would have preferred to do ... anything else.)


But they were good sports because on Saturday, after enjoying Nonna's delicious homemade minestrone and bread, we got to work.


And three and a half hours later, we had a little over 600 tortellini lined up on the counter.

Nonno: official tortellini dough roller

How old is this pasta machine?
Next April my parents will celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.
This pasta machine was a wedding gift.

Home from college and put to work.
(But they were good sports.)

Joe, Nicholas, Jonathan: official rollers of tortellini filling

Bia & Nonna: official folders of tortellini
(the two of us folded all 600+ tortellini)



Giving Nonno a break at the pasta machine.

Timothy: official tortellini transporter (from kitchen table to counter),
and official tortellini counter

Tortellini lined up on the kitchen counter.

A family Christmas tradition.

At the Kitchen Table

In our family, every Sunday night we gather around the kitchen table for family prayer time. Sometimes we pray the rosary, sometimes we pray extemporaneously, but during Lent we pray the Stations of the Cross which, over the years, has become a tradition for us.


Our favorite way to pray the Stations involves placing fourteen votive candles across our mantel and, after reading a station, blowing out one candle. We continue doing this until the last candle is extinguished and we are sitting in the dark in silent contemplation. On Easter Sunday morning we then gather to read the 15th station, but instead of blowing out a candle we light an Easter candle in celebration. You can read about our tradition here.


This year I decided to try something different. Rather than using our mantel, I placed fourteen tea lights in a French bread serving board and, as we sat around the kitchen table, we took turns reading a Station and then ceremoniously used a candle snuffer to put out the candle. It only took fifteen minutes, but with the rain falling outside and my boys (big and small) praying in the flickering candlelight, God's grace was shining.

The Cereal Bowl Birthday Tradition

It's funny how traditions are born. When the boys were younger and celebrating a birthday, I would leave a surprise in their cereal bowl for them to find when they came down for breakfast. A pack of Pokémon cards, some gum, a funny note ... just something small as a way to kick start their birthday.


One year, the night before Jonathan's birthday, he announced that he couldn't wait to see what would be in his cereal bowl the next morning.


I had completely forgotten. That is to say, I didn't so much forget as think that he had outgrown this ritual, but evidently I was wrong. So after he had gone to bed I made a quick run to Target.


That was the year I realized that our simple ritual had grown into a family tradition, one which has included years of cereal bowls and Matchbox cars and Kit Kat candy bars, and one which continues today, even for an 18-year-old.


Today is Jonathan's birthday, and this morning as I was setting up Jonathan's treats I recognized what a bittersweet moment this was. That little boy excitedly opening a pack of Pokémon cards has grown into a fine young man. Next year Jonathan will be away at college on his birthday, and while other traditions will most certainly evolve, the fact is he won't be here ...


And I will miss our cereal bowl birthday tradition.

The Cereal Bowl Birthday Tradition:
various candies (wrapped because it's fun to UNWRAP), chocolate donuts, $5 gift card
for Chick-fil-A and McDonald's (it's all about the food), and a 2-liter bottle of
Blue Voltage Mountain Dew because he has been begging me for weeks to buy some.
Today I did.

Enough said.

Jonathan

In His Own Words

Many of you know about our family vacation tradition in which the boys send postcards to themselves as a way of keeping a travel journal. A postcard is perfect because it's a picture of what they've visited, and the limited amount of space on the back keeps the torture journaling to a minimum. The older boys have outgrown this tradition, but Timothy is the perfect age.


Today, his postcards started arriving from last week's adventures ...

Seven Books

My go-to Confirmation gift idea is this: seven books which represent the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (wisdom, understanding, right judgment, courage, knowledge, reverence, awe of God).


The list changes depending on the recipient and his/her interests (with our middle son, for example, I included several sports books). Sometimes the list includes the Bible (if they don't already have one with their name engraved on the cover), sometimes I explain which book represents which gift of the Holy Spirit and sometimes I let them figure it out, but mostly I try to find books that are appealing, interesting, thought-provoking, and stand the test of time.


Yesterday we attended our nephew's Confirmation, and these were Christopher's seven books:


1- In His Own Words, Pope Francis
2- To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
3- The Book Thief, Markus Zusak
4- The First Phone Call from Heaven, Mitch Albom
5- Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck
6- Unbroken, Laura Hillenbrand
7- The Fall of Freddie the Leaf, Leo Buscaglia




As his sponsors, Joe and I kept trying to get a photo with Christopher (and just Christopher!) ...
but we kept getting photo bombed.
And the cute little guy in the bottom left corner? That's chocolate cake all over his mouth.

I Never Knew

The following was published in the March 2013 issue of Shalom Tidings. In celebration of the Feast Day of St. Joseph, here it is ...

       

I Never Knew

A Reflection of Saint Joseph
by Maria A. Novajosky

 

            Having spent part of my childhood in Italy, I grew up surrounded by saints. I saw them painted in the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel, nestled in grottos scattered in the mountains, and sculpted in tiny alcoves and chapels of churches found in every piazza in every town. With every saint came a story, one which was meant to help us on our own spiritual journey. And yet, as a little girl kneeling in church next to her Nonna and surrounded by centuries of saints, it was Saint Joseph who had a special place in my heart. I never knew why, but there it was.

 

            Perhaps one reason for my devotion was that I was intrigued with the fact that of all the saints, it seems we know the least about Saint Joseph. The last time he is mentioned in Sacred Scripture is when he and Mary returned to the Temple in Jerusalem looking for Jesus. After that, nothing. When did he die? Why was he no longer mentioned? Why don’t we know more? Too many unanswered questions, but dwelling on what is unknown can distract us from what is fundamentally true … that the silence of Saint Joseph is there for a reason, and it speaks volumes.

 

            When my husband and I had our three sons, I turned to Saint Joseph more and more often. Parenthood is not easy; while I prayed to Mary when I needed guidance in my roles as wife and mother, during the moments in which I felt the most inadequate I looked to Saint Joseph. I took comfort in the fact that he was a man – fully human – and yet he lived in the presence of the Son of God. Doesn’t God ask the same of all of us? That we work, live our lives, raise our children, and do the best we can all while living in His presence? Time and time again Saint Joseph showed me how to find blessings in the ordinariness of daily life.

 

            Obedience, forgiveness, trust, faith … there are so many lessons to be learned from the saints. They, who have already walked this earth before us, want to help us on our own journey. Saints are a gift from our Heavenly Father so that we don’t have to make that journey alone, and it’s a gift I encourage our sons to appreciate. We pray the rosary as a family, we talk about the saints, and every March we combine our Catholic faith and my Italian heritage to celebrate the Feast Day of St. Joseph, much like it’s celebrated in southern Italy. It’s a wonderful tradition of combining faith, food and family, and it affirms the role the saints have in our lives.

 

            And Saint Joseph has definitely had a role in our family. Perhaps the biggest lesson he has taught me was that not only should we turn to the saints for their intercession and guidance, but that they want us to come to them. One year I decided not to host our annual Saint Joseph celebration; a few days later a woman in my Bible Study encouraged each of us to pull a saint's name out of a basket and allow that saint to work in our life for a period of twelve months. The underlying concept was this: although you physically drew the saint's name, the saint actually chose you. There were fifty women in that Bible study that day who took turns drawing a saint. St. Catherine, St. Anne, St. Paul, St. Benedict, St. Mark – there were hundredsof saints in that basket – and Saint Joseph chose me. That year we had our biggest Saint Joseph celebration ever.

            Pope Benedict XVI once wrote about the silence of Saint Joseph and how that silence is steeped in the contemplation of the mystery of God. In a world which is noisy and distracts us all too easily from God’s word, it is the steadfastness and quiet strength of Saint Joseph who exemplifies prayer, devotion, and adoration of God’s will. We may not know everything about Saint Joseph, but we know everything that is important. And just when I am getting comfortable with his silence, he offers more.

 

            A few months ago I was going through my Nonna's letters –a transatlantic exchange of news spanning over 30 years – and came across something she wrote shortly after I was born: Ho sentito che avete battezzato Maria proprio il giorno 19, il giorno di S. Giuseppe (I heard that you baptized Maria on March 19,the Feast Day of St. Joseph). Amazingly, I never knew this. These words from my Nonna were a heavenly gift, a revelation from Saint Joseph assuring he is always there (even when I didn’t realize it) wanting to show me how to live a holy life, one that is lived in God’s presence. In his silence he speaks, and I am learning to listen.

 

Maria A. Novajosky is a writer for Catholic Stewardship Consultants and blogs about her Catholic faith, her Italian heritage, and the joys of being a wife and mother to three sons at www.ladolcevitathesweetlifewiththreesons.blogspot.com.

 

 

 

Kaopectate for Santa?

I'm in the middle of an article, and Timothy wants to discuss what snack we should leave for Santa. Every year he is worried that Santa is tired of cookies, so he likes to come up with something different.

"What should I leave Santa this year?" he asks. "I know, how about a bowl of cereal!"

"Well," I say. "The only problem is that we don't know exactly when Santa will come, and the cereal might get soggy."

Timothy nods in agreement.

"I know!" Timothy says. "How about a grapefruit? He might like that!"

"That's a good idea," I agree. "A nice, healthy option. Mrs. Claus would approve."

"Actually, maybe that wouldn't work," Timothy says. "It might give him diarrhea, and that wouldn't be good at all."

Cozy up to Fall ...

1. HOST A SOUP KITCHEN

(Invite some friends and have everyone bring a crockpot of their favorite soup ... everyone shares.)

2. GO FOR A HIKE IN THE WOODS

 

3. READ A BOOK IN FRONT OF A FIRE

 

4. DRINK APPLE CIDER

5. USE CANDLES

6. DECORATE YOUR FRONT DOOR

7. EAT OUTDOORS

 

 

Jonathan in the Middle

Dear Jonathan,

Stuck in the middle, you often don't get the attention you deserve.

Your older brother has all the firsts, leading the way in being the first to graduate, first to drive, first to get a job.

Your younger brother is the baby and gets everyone's attention for having the lasts: last to go through kindergarten, last to lose a front tooth, the last to still leave cookies for Santa Claus.

And there you are, bookended by your brothers.

But today is your birthday and we celebrate your passion for sports, your independence, and your cute dimples. Although sometimes quiet, you are charming and witty. Most importantly, you have a good sense of who you are, Jonathan, which is a real blessing.

We love you and we celebrate you.

Bacioni,
Mom, Dad, Nicholas and Timothy

Remember to always proclaim your rarity and celebrate your uniqueness; to use wisely your freedom of choice; and to go the extra mile by doing more than just what is expected.

Creating Memories with the Sunday Dinner

When the boys were young, my Italian mother had an idea. She wanted to create memories for my boys, her grandsons, of having Sunday dinners with their Nonna and Nonno. Since I have so many fond memories of dinners around my Nonna's table in Italy, and since we were over at my parents' house at least once a week anyway, I thought a more formal tradition was a wonderful idea.

My mother, however, is a modern nonna. Unlike my Nonna who stayed home all day, my Mother is busy: she teaches Italian, she travels, she plays Bunco, and she is very involved in the church. So she suggested a more modern twist of alternating Sunday dinners between their house and ours.

Honestly, I wasn't sure how I felt about having to plan a dinner every other Sunday, or even of having every Sunday tied up. And then, I know me. I can't do things simply; I have to go all out. That would mean planned menus, last minute shopping, pretty table settings, dessert, espresso... all this was going through my head as I mentally sighed and agreed.

Well, years of Sundays have gone by, and my Mom was right. It has worked out. Of course, there are times due to either of our schedules that we skip a weekend, and sometimes I cheat and order subway sandwiches and call it a "picnic", and sometimes my mother will do two Sundays in a row because, well, she's the Nonna. But for the most part, we have Sunday dinners together.

And I am so grateful because there are so many things that happen during our Sundays meals that wouldn't have happened otherwise: an impromptu dance with my oldest son and his Nonna; Nonno's funny jokes of when he was a boy; Nonna telling Nonno what he can and can't eat because of his cholesterol, and then Nonno sneaking a bite when he thinks no one is looking; Nonno and Nonna laughing at my husband and me when our middle son (who attends Catholic school) confesses that he failed his religion test.

Then there was one Sunday when we were talking about sin. My oldest son declared (and he was perfectly serious) that he never saw Nonna sin. Ever. After the laughter died down someone asked about Nonno. My middle son piped up that he once heard Nonno say (insert whisper) the "d" word when he dropped something. We still laugh about this.

All these blessings from a simple combination of Sunday evenings, family, and food ... and a Nonna who was determined to create some lasting memories for her grandsons.

 

The End ... But a New Beginning

 

May. We have spent almost this entire month thinking about graduation, planning graduation, buying

for graduation, practicing for graduation, and then (finally!) the actual graduation this past weekend. It's been a whirlwind, but now that the graduation dust has settled I'm finally able to take it all in. 

And it was all wonderful.

First came a succession of guests: Papa arrived Thursday from Virginia Beach, Aunt Lisa arrived Friday from a business trip in Orlando, and Uncle Bill flew in from Maryland on Saturday. My sister and her family arrived on Sunday, and i Nonni ... well, they're always here. The only person missing was my brother and his family, but they were busy with a newborn (Welcome to the world, Carter!).

It's incredibly humbling that so many of our family made travel arrangements and rearranged schedules to come for a graduation, especially considering that (and let's be honest here) graduations can be long. And sometimes a little boring. Just ask the two littlest guys in our group, Timothy and his cousin, Thomas. (Mass took forever; I was scrunched in the pew and couldn't see anything; Jonathan kept making faces at me.) Doodling helped ... thank goodness for printed programs with wide margins and the two pens I found at the bottom of my purse.

But graduation is more than the actual ceremony, and with a houseful of guests it was just fun to be together.

I think one of the highlights of the weekend was a two-hour sunset cruise down the Savannah River which I had booked for Saturday night. Through a series of fortunate events we had the entire pontoon boat to ourselves (there were supposed to be five other strangers, but lucky us! they never showed up), and with perfect weather (not humid, but mild and breezy) and a picnic-made-by-Bia (homemade muffalettas, chips, strawberries in lemon juice, wine) it was all very relaxing ... until the family secrets started spilling out.

You see, before embarking on the cruise I had everyone write down two things about themselves that NO ONE ELSE KNEW, and during the cruise we read them aloud and tried to figure out who wrote them. By the end of the evening we learned that SOMEONE in the family once drove his car at the breakneck speed of 130 mph, that SOMEONE (when they were five years old) stole one of Snow White's Seven Dwarfs from a market stall, that SOMEONE'S favorite dance was the cha-cha-cha, that SOMEONE once won a NASA award for making a wind tunnel for a science fair, that SOMEONE'S all-time favorite movie was The Prestige, that SOMEONE had a bunion under their left foot, and that SOMEONE didn't have a car (poor baby, the graduate dropping a hint).

There was a lot of laughing and finger pointing, and I couldn't help noticing that SOMEONE who was thoroughly entertained was the captain.

Sadly, by Monday morning poof! everyone was gone, including Joe who had to fly out to Albuquerque on business. Now, with the other two still in school, it's just me and the graduate who, by the way, is snoring away upstairs. Graduation festivities, being the center of attention, a new job ... he is wiped out.

Either that, or he's avoiding all the thank you notes he has to write.

Nicholas and a proud Dad.
 



Nicholas with Aunt Laura, Uncle Patrick,
and cousins, Christopher and Thomas



Nicholas and his Uncle Bill
Sunset Cruise on the Savannah River

Graduation luncheon

Graduation luncheon

Nicholas with i Nonni
(a LOT of orange gifts ... thanks Aunt Laura and Uncle Patrick!)

On his way ...