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.

 

 

 

7: Week One, Food

Jen Hatmaker's book, 7: An Experimental Mutiny against Excess, has an interesting concept: seven months to tackle seven areas of excess (clothes, spending, waste, food, possessions, media, stress). The whole idea is to fast in these areas, thereby removing clutter and thus making room for God to fill you with meaning, purpose, and grace. It's a perfect idea for Lent, and some of us are reading the book and participating on a smaller scale by tackling each category for seven days.


Week One is food. In the book, the author made a list of seven foods and only ate those seven foods for a month, but the whole idea is to make this your own. So, for example, instead of only eating seven foods you could: eat the same breakfast, lunch and dinner for seven days, give up eating out for seven days, or fast entirely from one meal a day for seven days.


In order to make this experience meaningful, I knew I would have to do it with a spirit of intention; in other words, I couldn't make this about losing weight. I had to really think how I wanted to approach this category.


The first thing I decided to do was fast from my morning cappuccino for seven days.


WHAT???


Crazy, I know, but I recognized that the time I used to make my oh! so perfect cappuccino could be used another way. There is a ritual involved with firing up the espresso machine (turning on the machine, priming the steam, filling the basket, frothing the milk, wiping the wand, priming again, brewing the espresso) and honestly, it can take a good 10 minutes from beginning to end. So I thought, it's a small thing to be sure, but instead of making a cappuccino I could use those ten  minutes to start off my day in a spiritual and mindful manner. A prayer, a Bible passage, a meditation. A lot can happen in ten minutes.


Now, about the food. For me, I decided to keep this simple and select seven foods and eat items from that list for seven days. Maybe by whittling down my options, by eating with intention (as opposed to just eating just to be eating), by not snacking, and by eating simply I can fast from excess ... less eating, less ingredients, less spending, less of everything that has to do with food. My list is as follows:

chicken     Greek yogurt

sweet potatoes     whole wheat bread     spinach/lettuce

   apples     carrots & hummus

  
Only those seven foods for seven days. I stocked my refrigerator and pantry, and I was off to a good start.


That is, until the evening of Day Two when I made a conscious decision to deviate. (I know, I know ... already?)


Here's the thing. Friday night our son came home from college for his spring break and I prepared a lovely meal of fish (Friday during Lent), cannellini beans and tomato salad, freshly baked bread, rice, and a homemade apple tart with caramel sauce for dessert. For me, it was much, much more important to have a family meal, sitting out on our back deck at twilight, talking and exchanging news. I didn't want to eat something different, I didn't want to have to offer explanations, I didn't want the attention on me. There's a danger in becoming so focused on the letter of the law that you lose sight of the spirit of the fast, and I knew our homecoming meal was a gift for our entire family; that the meal together was an opportunity to set aside my fast and to allow for graces and blessings to flow from another direction.


Other than that, though, I've stuck to those seven foods. And it hasn't been very difficult except ...  well, except maybe next time I'll include a cappuccino in that list of seven.

my poor, silent espresso machine ...

Life Lately: A Sunday Visit (and 7 quick takes)

I. The silence of Lent


It's been nice not worrying about Facebook. Or blogging.


I know it's just been since this past Ash Wednesday, but it's amazing how much more time I now have when I am not doing either.


I'm just going to check Facebook, I say.


I'm just going to pop in on my favorite blogs, I think.


But one link leads to another (there's a reason they call it surfing) and then by the time I remember the chicken thawing on the counter it's too late to cook it for dinner so I call Papa Johns.


The internet ... it's a time vampire.


II. The Whistler


Tying shoes. Blowing bubbles with pink, sticky bubble gum. Learning to push yourself on the swing.


All are important skills to master.


So is whistling, which our little guy just recently learned.


And now he whistles all the time: as he's playing with his Legos; while he's in the shower; we even heard him whistling in bed last night, practicing before he fell asleep. It's kind of cute. I mean, he's excited! He can whistle! What a big boy thing to do!


But it's also slightly annoying.


Mom, can you make him stop whistling? asks Jonathan, not very nicely.


I would say something, but the little guy is in the middle of a learning curve due to the fact that right now, in this very moment, he can only whistle when he inhales.


That's right, he whistles backwards.


And so he practices. A big exhale. Nothing. Big inhale. A whistle!


So that's where we are.


Stay tuned.


III. Picture phobia


So. I'm speaking at this year's Sacred Heart Garden Festival, and they need a photo of me. Ugh.


Okay, then. I tackle this little problemo and it only takes me three hours to find one that I (marginally) like. There. Done.


Or not.


The Web site for the event is still being finalized, but I show the family my photo and bio. And both Joe and my mom (in separate conversations) wondered why I picked that particular photo.


Now I am paranoid.


IV. Plant Killer


Bought a basil plant.


Killed a basil plant.


It took two days ... and here I am speaking at a garden festival.


They should go ahead and fire me.


V. Lenten Chain Reaction


1. My parents watch the movie, The Way, about the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
2. They loan it to me. I watch it, and it profoundly moves me.
3. I write a blog post to my son to wish him a Happy Birthday Buen Camino.
4. My sister reads my post and watches the movie over two days on her lunch break. She is moved.
5. Coincidentally, her priest makes a Santiago de Compostela "passport" so the students at St. John Neumann can participate in a Lenten pilgrimage.
6. She emails me the passport the priest made.
7. I talk to my son's teacher, and this Tuesday I am going to speak to the entire fourth grade about Santiago de Compostela. I prepared a PowerPoint presentation, and I have a passport and a scalloped shell for everyone.
8. Today my sister sends me this bracelet she made in honor of our pact ... she and I will walk to Santiago de Compostela within the next two years. We will take the shortest route that will enable us to qualify for the certificate, but it will still take us 10-12 days.




The Scalloped shell is the traditional symbol of a pilgim
on el camino to Santiago de Compostela. The shell's grooves,
which meet at a single point, represent the various routes
the pilgrims traveled to Santiago de Compostela.

Best sister.
Yes?
Yes.

VI. Excuse me, I  need a moment ...


To wipe my tears after re-reading my sister's note for the umpteenth time.


VII. Seven


I am reading the book 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by Jen Hatmaker.


Honestly, at first I was skeptical because I do not consider myself excessive. I am not a clutter bug. I clean out purge our closets several times a year. Presently my closet consists of some staple outfits, some hang-around-the-house items, and that's it. I don't own a lot of shoes (although, admittedly, I do have a watch thing). I don't even keep our toaster on the kitchen counter because I like a clean, streamlined look.


But I have to say, once I began reading the book I couldn't put it down. I read 7 in two days. It's funny, it's thought-provoking, and it is a wonderful way to incorporate different kinds of fasting into our Lenten journey.


For the first time, I feel like I have a tangible focus this Lenten season.


And that's a good thing.

Fat Tuesday on a Monday

So. My mom made her famous homemade cannoli for the Italian Pasta Festival this weekend, and today she comes by and brings me four.


And right away I ate two, and saved two for tomorrow.


Except ... I kept thinking about them.


I mean, I was going to eat them anyway, so would it make a difference if it's today or tomorrow? Isn't it kind of a good idea to just eat them ... get it over it ... and be done with it?


Decisions, decisions.


And I'll leave it at that.


A cliffhanger ...


what


did


Bia


do?

Simplicity and Mindfulness

I've been sitting on this since last November, but now that it's official I'll formally announce it here as well: I am honored to be one of the scheduled speakers for the Sacred Heart Garden Festival (April 25-27, 2014).


It's funny how life is sometimes. Last year I attended the festival for the first time, and little did I know that one year later I would be returning to give a presentation entitled, The Peasant Kitchen and Slow Food: The Italian Approach to Food, Dining and Healthy Living.


In Italy there is a saying: Per capire una cosa, devi guardare alle radici, which basically means that in order to understand something, you must first look at its roots. And that's what I'll be doing in my talk ... going back to my Italian roots to demonstrate how simplicity and mindfulness in the kitchen can go a long way in not only how we think about food, but in how we approach life.


The schedule for the speakers series is not up yet, but I will post it here when it becomes available. In the meantime, I hope you will come. Si`?

A Haircut Lost in the Translation

Yesterday I did something stupid. I walked into an unknown salon and asked for an appointment right away. I was introduced to someone named Sun (or was it Moon?) and I explained to her that I wanted two inches off my length and my bangs trimmed.


No problem! she said, in very broken English.


Except she did everything backwards: she trimmed my hair and took two inches off my bangs.


Sheesh. You think I would have learned by now, because something very, very similar happened when I was studying in Spain. I still shudder at the memory ...


So there we were, studying at La Universidad de Salamanca, and my friend and I were having problems. Specifically, boy problems. We were  sitting in the Plaza Mayor, moping, and then one of us (we never could figure out whose idea it was) decided that a haircut would be just the thing to perk us up because that's what girls do ... a good hair cut and a manicure and we can take on the world! Besides, there was something exotic about getting our hair done in a foreign country. We could tell people we had our hair done by Alberto at  Peluqueria Alberto on Calle de la Gran Via.


We found a salon and just walked in. While my friend and I were both conversationally proficient in the language, we realized that we did not know how to say trim in Spanish. Or bangs. All those years of language study and we never had to say those two words before, and now we had a problem because that's what we wanted: a trim and to have our bangs re-shaped. So we used words like little cut and new fringe and we thought they understood our requests.


Well. After the stylists were done I looked at my friend and she had no bangs left; she looked at me and my shoulder-length hair was now a short, goofy chin-length bob.


If you thought we were depressed before we went into that salon, you can just imagine what we felt like afterwards. We were so stunned neither of us said a word.


Anyway, there's a lesson in here somewhere, and if I could think straight I would offer something wise, but now I can't get my mind away from the mental image of that disastrous haircut I was stuck with for the rest of my Salamanca summer.

Embarassing Jonathan

Poor Jonathan. Tonight Timothy and I decided to go visit him at Arby's, and whenever we do that we always manage to embarrass him. For example, when Jonathan had been working at Arby's for less than a week and was still training on the cash register, we all went there for dinner and placed a large order using coupons. Uhm ... the coupons complicated things to such an extent that a manager had to be called over.


Then there was the time that the entire family showed up en masse (with Nonna and Nonno!), and Nonna kept telling everyone that he was her grandson. Jonathan turns really, really red when people make a fuss about him.


So tonight, since we knew Jonathan would be working drive-thru, Timothy and I suddenly decided that we wanted dessert. Jonathan has only recently been trained to do drive-thru, so on the way there we were laughing and imagining how his voice would sound over the intercom.


"We won't understand him," said Timothy, who knows how his brother likes to mumble. "He'll sound like this: 'Welcome to Arbys ... mumble, mumble, mumble ... order?'"


So anyway, we had plans. The problem was deciding which would be better:


1. Pull up to the intercom, and when he asks for our order say "What?" and "Can you speak louder?" and "What was that again?"


or


2. Pull up to the intercom and loudly, so the entire restaurant can hear, yell, "Hi, Jona-baby!"


Unfortunately, when we pulled into the parking lot we noticed Jonathan eating in the dining room. Darn it. He was on his dinner break. I drove around the restaurant THREE times hoping he would finish and go back to his post, but no such luck.


So we parked, went in, and sat across from him in the booth and watched him eat his dinner. Oh the questions we asked him! How does the headset work? Do you disinfect it between shifts? How long is your break? What are you eating? Can I have a French fry? And a sip of your soda? I may be imagining things, but I think he was eating faster and faster just so he could get back to work and get away from us.


But he wasn't too annoyed because after his break I walked up to the counter and ordered a Mint Chocolate Swirl Shake (with Andes chocolate!) to go, and even though Jonathan was back in drive-thru he came over and insisted on making it himself. He makes a pretty good milkshake, if I do say so myself.

P.S. And as long as I'm talking about Jonathan ... Last week during our horrific, catastrophic ice storm, Arby's managed to open their doors about mid-afternoon on Friday and it wasn't long before a line formed out the door with people wanting to come in to warm up and order a hot meal. Jonathan was one of only THREE employees who worked from four in the afternoon until midnight. He was there during the earthquake and when the water tower at the Augusta National was freakishly leaking.