There was a piece of trash on the sidewalk in California that I couldn't just step over. So I bent over, picked it up, and disposed of it in the nearest appropriate bin. Because it's California. And everyone in California takes good care of their state. Well, apparently not everyone, because I'm there picking up trash!
But no, I didn't do that because it's California - I do that in Texas, Louisiana, Florida (except Disneyworld - y'all are amazingly cleanly!) anywhere I go. Always, no - not always. Some things are too gross to touch, like cigarette butts and full diapers - ew (and I really should dispose of those as well). But those little eyes are watching me. Constantly. They watch everything I do, hear everything I say, and experience everything I feel. Even as they get older, I still catch our 15 year old studying me. Albeit, probably waiting for me to mess up (and it's a great day in the Warehouse when I do mess up!), but still - they watch. My house isn't perfectly clean, but I try. I'll swoop up the pile on the stairway as I walk up, or tidy the countertops as I prepare dinner. But with three children, we are outnumbered. It's a two-step dance trying to manage a tidy home while they're still inside.
One of my friends said it's like "shoveling snow while it's still snowing." Amen, sista! But it's got to be done. After all, doing a little bit along the way, leads to a lot of work accomplished in the end. And there we go again, the end...
One of my most favorite times in mass is feeling their gaze on me. The Catholic Mass is so full of tradition, every bow, every kneel, every gesture, everything that is done has meaning. I am sure I don't know all of them, but I really try. And I love whispering what I do know to my children while it's being done. Why? Because it reminds me of watching my grandmother and my parents. I still can hear their sweet little voices singing the beautiful hymns. In fact, I tear up when I hear one of their favorites. But I was always watching them.
Mass becomes deeper as I get older. It is not only the gift of being present in Christ. But the precious reminders of the people that have held it up. When we hear the babies cry, we know that it will carry on. The traditions, the examples set by the people there, they will remain a constant in this ever-changing world, which is something I have always admired about this Church. It has not changed according to the ways of this earth. It is the ultimate example that we, as children, should follow. It is far beyond picking up trash on a sidewalk. It is cleaning out the worldly desires of our heart so that we have a direct path to God.
But no, I didn't do that because it's California - I do that in Texas, Louisiana, Florida (except Disneyworld - y'all are amazingly cleanly!) anywhere I go. Always, no - not always. Some things are too gross to touch, like cigarette butts and full diapers - ew (and I really should dispose of those as well). But those little eyes are watching me. Constantly. They watch everything I do, hear everything I say, and experience everything I feel. Even as they get older, I still catch our 15 year old studying me. Albeit, probably waiting for me to mess up (and it's a great day in the Warehouse when I do mess up!), but still - they watch. My house isn't perfectly clean, but I try. I'll swoop up the pile on the stairway as I walk up, or tidy the countertops as I prepare dinner. But with three children, we are outnumbered. It's a two-step dance trying to manage a tidy home while they're still inside.
One of my friends said it's like "shoveling snow while it's still snowing." Amen, sista! But it's got to be done. After all, doing a little bit along the way, leads to a lot of work accomplished in the end. And there we go again, the end...
One of my most favorite times in mass is feeling their gaze on me. The Catholic Mass is so full of tradition, every bow, every kneel, every gesture, everything that is done has meaning. I am sure I don't know all of them, but I really try. And I love whispering what I do know to my children while it's being done. Why? Because it reminds me of watching my grandmother and my parents. I still can hear their sweet little voices singing the beautiful hymns. In fact, I tear up when I hear one of their favorites. But I was always watching them.
Mass becomes deeper as I get older. It is not only the gift of being present in Christ. But the precious reminders of the people that have held it up. When we hear the babies cry, we know that it will carry on. The traditions, the examples set by the people there, they will remain a constant in this ever-changing world, which is something I have always admired about this Church. It has not changed according to the ways of this earth. It is the ultimate example that we, as children, should follow. It is far beyond picking up trash on a sidewalk. It is cleaning out the worldly desires of our heart so that we have a direct path to God.
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