Straight out of the Movies

You know that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark in which snakes are oozing out of holes in the wall?

Well, yesterday my husband saw a snake in the garage. A long snake. A fast snake. A smart snake that disappeared into a small hole in the garage wall to escape my husband's bullwhip . . . er, I mean, shovel.

Now I am afraid that this same snake (or a member of his family) will crawl up into the minivan's engine, and that tomorrow when I'm running carpool it will slither out of the air conditioning vent onto my lap.

Is such a thing possible? (Please, please tell me no.)

Brothers . . . can't live with them, can't live without them

So, my two oldest boys get into an argument tonight. Listening to them, my husband and I see that they are both wrong, but neither will admit it. It goes on like this. Because they share a room and the argument is getting ridiculous, we separate them by putting them to bed in different bedrooms.

Then, a storm comes.

A ferocious storm. With thunder, lightning, and wind.

Our eleven year old comes running into our bedroom. He doesn't want to sleep alone. It's too scary. Can he sleep with us?

Our thirteen year old comes in. The wind is really howling and the back bedroom is making funny noises. Can he go back to his own bedroom? Please?

So, we tuck them back into their own beds, in the bedroom that they share. They are both grinning ear to ear.

As my husband and I walk out of their bedroom we hear them whispering "I'm sorry" to each other . . .

which makes both of us grin ear to ear.

Finding God in the Mundane

I hope that yesterday's post didn't make it seem as if I was complaining, because I wasn't . . . at least not much. It's just that in the middle of a hectic day of chores, my best friend called to remind me that this time last year we were in Rome. Sigh.

Suddenly, scrubbing the pine pollen off our awnings seemed terribly mundane.

Which is what got me thinking about the book A Man Called Peter by Catherine Marshall (author of Christy and Julie). This book is the true story of her husband, Peter Marshall, who came to this country as a poor, Scottish immigrant and who ultimately became Chaplain of the United States Senate. Peter wrote some truly wonderful sermons, but there is one sermon in particular that I always turn to when faced with the ordinariness of our daily lives.

Peter believed that it was important "to make the distinction between worship and work and play less sharp", and that we should seek God in our kitchen, on the playground, and in our typewriter. He wrote that our lives would have absolutely no meaning if we weren't able to see God in the mundane, day-to-day chores that make up our lives, that sometimes what we need most "is the God of the humdrum . . . the commonplace . . . the everyday."

I especially remembered this sermon when I signed up to work at a summer camp in Savannah, Georgia while in college. I was excited about this job. I enjoyed working with children, and for the first time I would be able to play the guitar during daily mass. But my first few days as a counselor consisted of cleaning the camp to get it ready for the campers . . . a little fact they neglected to mention when I was hired. When I was assigned the task of scrubbing nasty toilets that hadn't been used since the previous summer, I was a bit disgruntled (and that's putting it mildly).

Instead of holding a guitar, I was holding a toilet brush.

After that first day I realized that grumpiness and bad attitude are not only exhausting, but hard work. So the next morning as I faced yet another day of cleaning bathrooms, I remembered Peter Marshall's sermon and decided to try and find God in these dirty, smelly, disgusting camp bathrooms.

So I prayed for the grace to do this job willingly and with a joyful heart. As I prayed, I wandered around the small auditorium next to the bathrooms and found an old record player and one scratchy record: Louis Armstrong singing It's a Wonderful World.

I listened to that record over and over again at full volume. I sang along at full volume. I scrubbed those toilets. And I was happy. . . I had found God in the mundane.

What a difference a year makes

One year ago today I was standing in front of the Colosseum in Rome . . .

today I was standing in front of this.

One year ago I was marveling at Michelangelo's ceiling in the Sistine Chapel . . .

today I was marveling at how many times I can watch this without going crazy.

One year ago I was eating at Ristorante Quo Vadis on the Appian Way . . .

tonight we set our table with these.

One year ago I was climbing this staircase at the Vatican Museums . . .

this afternoon I was climbing this to scrub the awning over our side door.

One year ago I threw a coin in La Fontana Trevi and made a wish . . .

that one year from today we will all go back.

Called

I have some missionary friends. I know several people studying to become priests. Some friends are deacons. Some are members of religious movements. We even had a sister from Tanzania stay with us last summer (she will return again this June).

I, however, have not been called to the religious life.

But I have been called.

In his document Christifidelis Laici (articles 60-63), John Paul II recognized the role of the lay faithful in the church. While most of us are not called to the religious life, our role as a lay person is still a vocation. As mothers, fathers, teachers, mailmen, store clerks . . . we are out in the world, mingling with society and acting as representatives of our faith. In many ways, we are on the "front lines".

In this document, John Paul II wrote that to be an effective apostle of Christ, there are three specific areas of integrated formation that help form the whole person. These areas are:

spiritual formation: all that affects faith and prayer life and what relates directly to your personal relationship with God

doctrinal or intellectual formation: includes all that helps you to form and expand your mind and intellect, including reading great books and continued faith formation

human formation: deals with your human nature and those things that help you grow humanly or socially, including manners, etiquette, personal habits, nutrition, exercise

Well. It's a good thing I wasn't called to a religious life because I can barely manage these three areas. I lack human formation when I neglect my exercise routine or when I don't reach out to someone; I neglect doctrinal formation when I waste too much time with secular novels and mindless television; oftentimes, too many times, really, I neglect my prayer life.

But I have a vocation, so I am trying to teach myself to step back every once in a while and re-evaluate my life, because I have noticed, in those moments when I have experienced true peace, those times have been marked with a balance of all three areas.

As we approach Pentecost Sunday, which coincides wonderfully with Mother's Day (motherhood . . . now that's a vocation!) I am thankful for the Holy Spirit. Just by asking, gifts such as fortitude (thanks, Lisa), wisdom, counsel, and understanding can help me become that whole person called by God.

A Puppy in the House

Yesterday afternoon I ran upstairs to get my book, and when I returned I discovered my 4-year-old licking the foam off the top of my freshly made cappuccino.

May, the month of Mary

Many thanks to J.A. Varela for sharing this beautiful video.