Tag Archives: Family Life & Parenting

Signs of Grace

The Catechism of the Catholic Church describes grace as the “free and undeserved help that God gives us to respond to his call to become children of God.” My husband, Frank, and I have experienced God’s “undeserved help,” as we have wrestled with His plan for our family. We now know it was God’s grace that guided our journey.

Frank and I met in our work place soon after college. Our first date was at a Chinese restaurant. After dinner, my fortune cookie read, “Stop searching forever, happiness is just next to you.” Frank thought it was the coolest thing ever—I wondered if it was a setup! From that unexpected beginning, we married and had five children almost immediately. Because of our family size, people often assumed that we were “good Catholics,” thinking that we had always accepted the Church’s teaching prohibiting contraception. In our case that assumption would be wrong. We had used contraception despite the fact that the priest who prepared us for marriage taught us Church teachings. We stopped using contraception only to have our first baby,Emily. We did the same for our second child, Madeline, and our third child, Sam.

Around the time that Sam was born, Frank and I became involved in youth ministry. This prompted me to question our own contraceptive behavior. If we had to explain the Church’s teachings on chastity, I thought, we should follow them ourselves! I quickly ordered Natural Family Planning (NFP) books and signed up for the local diocesan class. Before class began however, I skimmed through the book and started tracking my menstrual cycle on a calendar. One romantic evening soon after that, with total disregard for the calendar , we conceived our twins, Caroline and Sophia.

Having five babies within six years was extremely overwhelming. Without hesitation I forgot about NFP and got a prescription for birth control pills. Something quite unexpected then happened. During these years using contraception I lost my sexual desire for my husband. Sex became one more thing I had to do for somebody. In addition, Frank and I began to fight about sex. Needless to say, this was upsetting—I loved my husband and I often prayed that God would help us!

In this difficult period a new parish priest came into our lives. With every examination of conscience in preparation for the Sacrament of Reconciliation he would bring up contraception. I would immediately dismiss the subject. “That teaching doesn’t apply to us,” I thought, “we have five kids!” And yet, this new priest ’s comments stuck with me and my heart remained restless. The turning point for me happened after a conversation about sterilization.

One of our friends had been sterilized and asked me when Frank would “get snipped.” Without missing a beat, I said, “Maybe for my birthday.” The fact that I so easily thought of sterilization got me thinking— how could I, we , decide to do something so major without talking about it and praying? Soon after this realization, I wondered why we were not open to having another child. I found myself offering simple prayers asking God to help us. It was the first time that I had asked God for guidance regarding our fertility. From that simple step , God began to send signs though neighbors, family and friends.

Soon after that, I spoke with our new parish priest about my concerns. He confirmed that the Church’s teachings were true and gave me CDs and books to learn more. At the same time, I kept receiving signs about having a sixth child. For example, when we were out to dinner I complimented a woman about the behavior of her five children. She thanked me and mentioned that her sixth child was away at college. At a parish meeting I saw an old friend who commented that she thought I had a new baby. She had not known we were discerning. I shared these and other experiences with our new parish priest and asked if they were signs from God. He said if they were, they would not stop coming. Father’s words could not have been more true—the signs kept coming.

Meanwhile, Frank and I signed up for NFP class. It may sound like an exaggeration, but from the first day we began using NFP everything immediately felt different. Frank would set the alarm, take my temperature, and re cord the numbers on the chart. I felt so taken care of. I felt a tenderness that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I liked that he was learning about my body. It was helpful that he knew where I was in my cycle, especially during difficult days. I came to understand this total love and acceptance in a deeper way.

As we lived the NFP lifestyle, we began to realize that all of our reasons for avoiding pregnancy were “earthly”— we would need a new car, a bigger house, and more money for everything. An unexpected encounter with an old man in a donut shop broke through our hesitation. “So, how many kids do you have?” I asked. “Three boys and three girls,” he responded. I got the biggest smile on my face, called my husband to share the story, and that evening our precious son,Thomas Anthony, was conceived.

It is by the grace of God that we have our children and a redeemed sex life as well. My husband, Frank, and I have learned that our sexual union should be focused on giving rather than getting. NFP provided the environment to live this out. We are so grateful that we now have the kind of marital union that God had planned for us! I t has changed our lives so much that we became NFP teachers to spread the good news.

Now that we use NFP, we see our married life as always having an opportunity to love like God loves. Of course, God provides the grace, and we must choose to participate with Him. I am convinced that there is something about getting the sexual element of marriage “right with God” that ends up affecting everything. Marital union is the marriage vows made flesh and every act of intercourse is a renewal of these vows. Only a union centered on God and His will in our lives will truly satisfy the desires of our hearts!

About the author
Jennifer, her husband Frank, and their six children are from the Diocese of Cleveland.

Surviving the First Year of Parenthood

When a couple discovers that they are expecting their first child, they know (hopefully) that they are in for some tremendous changes. This is the case no matter their age, no matter the size of their home or their income, and no matter how long they have been married. That the birth of the first child marks a time of incredible changes to a couple’s lifestyle and priorities is a universal truth.

In my vocation of marriage, I am called to love God first, my spouse second, and my children third. Not only is this the best thing for my marriage, it is also the best thing for my son. Pope Benedict XVI once asked parents to “first of all remain firm for ever in your reciprocal love: this is the first great gift your children need if they are to grow up serene, acquire self-confidence and thus learn to be capable in turn of authentic and generous love” (Family, 44). My relationship with my husband is my most important relationship on this earth.

The fact is, though, that when you get home from the hospital, there is a very tiny and very needy little person completely depending on your time and energy to survive and thrive. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the needs of your new baby, in learning how to fulfill them, and in attempting to rise above your own feelings of utter and complete exhaustion. What does putting your spouse first and taking care of your marriage look like then? And what does it look like when those first few stressful weeks pass by and life gets “back to normal”– but “normal” is anything but?

Looking back on that first year of my now sixteen-month-old son Charlie’s life, there are certain things that helped my husband Daniel and me to adjust to loving each other in our new life.

Spending Time Together

First of all, spend time together. No kidding, right? Usually this very common piece of advice focuses on the importance of time spent without the baby, but while it is nice to get away for a couple of hours in between nursing sessions, this may not always be practical.

Fortunately, in order to have “quality time” with your spouse, you don’t necessarily need to leave your little one behind. An infant in your arms doesn’t impede adult conversation in any way, doesn’t yet need to be chased around the house, and will usually only cry if there is something wrong that can very easily be fixed. Early on, enjoying a meal or a movie at home with my husband with Charlie close by was much more relaxing for me than being away from him and wondering how he was. Once we put Charlie to bed we had the living room to ourselves, and we made our time together special right where we were, using the space that we had. This was especially important with our preferred sleeping arrangements which put Charlie in our bedroom for almost his entire first year.

Don’t feel as though you have to mentally “get away” from your baby either. Especially if one parent is staying home, avoiding the baby as a topic of discussion so that you can have “adult conversation” probably won’t work. Couples talk about what they are connected to emotionally and their day’s experiences. It is only natural that you will find yourself talking about your child a lot.

Daniel and I have found this to be a great bonding experience. Sharing with each other every day the joys, big and small, that Charlie brings to our lives helps us to remember the miracle– that Almighty God used our love for one another to create a brand new person. We help each other to hold onto that wonder that filled us during the first few hours of getting acquainted with our newborn boy. “That’s your son,” I might say to Daniel as we sit at home watching Charlie play. “Look at the little person he’s becoming.” Holding on to the awe at the miracle of his existence and remembering that this little boy is, in a sense, our love for each other made visible, binds us ever closer together.

A Little “Thank You” Goes a Long Way

Alas, everyday life with an infant isn’t all joyful meditation. In fact, at times it seems that it’s all sleepless nights, dirty diapers, and a baby-shaped weight glued to your hip while dishes pile up on the counters. It is in this everyday existence that it often becomes difficult for me to see beyond the tip of my own nose to realize that my husband is also tired and stressed, and it is in this everyday existence that the little things can go a very long way.

For example, don’t let anything go without thanks, whether it is for your spouse cleaning up from dinner or going to work every day to provide for your little family. Other affirmations are appreciated, too. When I watch Daniel reading a story to Charlie and think about what a good daddy he is, I try to tell him so. It is so uplifting to be on the receiving end of these kinds of affirmations. One day I had just sat down on the couch to nurse eleven-month-old Charlie. “I know I see it all the time,” Daniel said as he gazed lovingly at the two of us, “but it’s still so precious.” This was so special to me that I still feel myself glowing just thinking about it.

The gift of facilitating personal time is another thing that is extremely appreciated. I’m talking about when Daniel takes care of Charlie to give me time for a leisurely shower, or wakes up with Charlie in the morning and takes him into the living room to play so that I can have an extra half hour of sleep. To a sleep-deprived mom (or dad), there really is no better way to say “I love you.”

These are all ways that spouses can take care of each other and help one another to adjust during the first year of parenthood. I saved the most important for last, though, and that concerns the rock of faith that marriage should be built on. Attend Mass together. Pray and read Scripture together. Share your feelings and struggles, without fear of how they may be taken. Lift up your spouse in your personal prayer. Also, do things according to the way God designed them, through the practices of natural family planning and, if you can, breastfeeding. With God as the rock you cling to, your love will weather this and every storm that comes your way. Really, though, I can hardly call the first year of my firstborn’s life a storm; it has brought way more joy than it has destruction.

My Husband the Gentleman

Even before I knew it by name, I have always believed chivalry to be very important. When I was a teenager, it was on my list of characteristics and qualities that I found particularly appealing in boys. This might sound crazy, but “yes,” I really did have a list, and I really did go over it with a pencil and check it off whenever a new boy caught my attention. This li st included everything from “is Catholic” and “has a relationship with God” to “likes kids,” “makes me laugh” and “my parents like him.” Seriously, close to the top of the list I wrote, “is chivalrous.”

In being on the watch for chivalry for so long, one of the first things that attracted me to my future husband, Daniel, was that he was an almost perfect gentleman (I say “almost” because no one is perfect—but I happen to think my Daniel is pretty darn close). When Daniel was with me, I never found myself opening a car door or any other door. If his arms were empty, mine immediately were cleared of whatever they were carrying (except for my purse, of course—he wouldn’t carry that!). As the years went by, none of these chivalrous habits disappeared. Daniel wasn’t trying to impress me during our courtship. He’s just a gentleman, pure and simple.

Now that we’re married, there’s an even more meaningful way that Daniel has been able to be a gentleman for me. In our experience with Natural Family Planning, I can tell you that I feel so respected and well cared-for by my husband in a very big way. He would never treat my healthy body, working perfectly as God designed it, as though it was diseased and in n eed of being “fixed” just to be sexually more available to him at all times.

In addition, Daniel would never encourage me to put my health at risk. Many dangerous side effects result in using hormonal contraception. In fact, something is not quite right when people take a daily pill or wear a patch in order to prevent a healthy reproductive organ from working properly. Contraception is not the way to go and I have a wonderful, chivalrous gentleman who knows that!

This pretty much sums up what I’m getting at: one day over the summer, Daniel said to me, “I’m really glad that we don’t use contraception. I feel like that would really cause me to see you as more of an object. You don’t deserve that.”

That is my “knight in shining armor.” I’m so glad I put chivalry on my list!

This article was adapted from “Sarah’s Blog,” ForYourMarriage.org, United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2009. It is used here with permission.

Why Natural Family Planning Differs from Contraception

In 1998 Pope John Paul II wrote a letter to Dr. Anna Cappella, director of the Center for Research and Study on the Natural Regulation of Fertility at Rome’s Catholic University of the Sacred Heart. The occasion was a convention commemorating Humanae Vitae, Pope Paul VI’s 1968 encyclical. Excerpts are reprinted below.

I hope that everyone will benefit from a closer study of the Church’s teaching on the truth of the act of love in which spouses become sharers in God’s creative action.

The truth of this act stems from its being an expression of the spouses’ reciprocal personal giving, a giving that can only be total since the person is one and indivisible. In the act that expresses their love, spouses are called to make a reciprocal gift of themselves to each other in the totality of their person: nothing that is part of their being can be excluded from this gift. This is the reason for the intrinsic unlawfulness of contraception: it introduces a substantial limitation into this reciprocal giving, breaking that “inseparable connection” between the two meanings of the conjugal act, the unitive and the procreative, which, as Pope Paul VI pointed out, are written by God himself into the nature of the human being (HV, no. 12).

Continuing in this vein, the great pontiff rightly emphasized the “essential difference” between contraception and the use of natural methods in exercising “responsible procreation.” It is an anthropological difference because in the final analysis it involves two irreconcilable concepts of the person and of human sexuality (cf. Familiaris Consortio, no. 32).

It is not uncommon in current thinking for the natural methods of fertility regulation to be separated from their proper ethical dimension and to be considered in their merely functional aspect. It is not surprising then that people no longer perceive the profound difference between these and the artificial methods. As a result, they go so far as to speak of them as if they were another form of contraception. But this is certainly not the way they should be viewed or applied.

On the contrary, it is only in the logic of the reciprocal gift between man and woman that the natural regulation of fertility can be correctly understood and authentically lived as the proper expression of a real and mutual communion of love and life. It is worth repeating here that “the person can never be considered as a means to an end, above all never a means of ‘pleasure.’ The person is and must be nothing other than the end of every act. Only then does the action correspond to the true dignity of the person.” (cf. Letter to Families, no. 12).

The Church is aware of the various difficulties married couples can encounter, especially in the present social context, not only in following but also in the very understanding of the moral norm that concerns them. Like a mother, the Church draws close to couples in difficulty to help them; but she does so by reminding them that the way to finding a solution to their problems must come through full respect for the truth of their love. “It is an outstanding manifestation of charity toward souls to omit nothing from the saving doctrine of Christ,” Paul VI admonished (HV, no. 29).

The Church makes available to spouses the means of grace which Christ offers in redemption and invites them to have recourse to them with ever renewed confidence. She exhorts them in particular to pray for the gift of the Holy Spirit, which is poured out in their hearts through the efficacy of their distinctive sacrament: this grace is the source of the interior energy they need to fulfill the many duties of their state, starting with that of being consistent with the truth of conjugal love. At the same time, the Church urgently requests the commitment of scientists, doctors, health-care personnel and pastoral workers to make available to married couples all those aids which prove an effective support for helping them fully to live their vocation (cf. HV, no. 23-27).

My Slogan: “Practice Saved Sex!”

I am a journalist and a convert. That sounds like an oxymoron.

Two years after joining the Catholic Church, my wife and I began practicing Natural Family Planning (NFP). I found that the chastity required to get through the periods of abstinence caused profound changes in me. I stopped daydreaming of swimsuit models, wealth and fame. I became grateful for all God had given me, most of all for my wife. My appreciation for her and all that she gives me grew, improving an already good 20-year marriage.

I was curious to find out if other people had been so affected. This is where the journalist and the convert converged. I interview NFP couples and read thousands of words on conjugal union and the effects of contraception on the relationship between men and women. So for five years I thought about nothing but sex, except during the hockey playoffs. This was a challenge to chastity, but the result was a book, Natural Family Planning Blessed Our Marriage: 19 True Stories (Servant Books).

Here is what I learned. When women took control of fertility with the pill and the IUD in the mid 1960s to the mid-1970s, men said “cool.” Men’s behavior changed, as they no longer felt responsible for their sexual partners. (This can be seen in the disappearance of shotgun marriages.)

There was an accompanying drop in commitment between men and women. Trust between the sexes fell because men no longer acted in expected patterns.

When you add in the increase in women’s wages and the decrease in men’s wages, you created couples who are neither financially nor sexually interdependent. This is why, social scientists say, the divorce rate doubled in that time frame.

NFP can repair the damage. Men acknowledge responsibility to their wives. Commitment increases because the couples know when pregnancy is likely before they make love. Their trust increases: she trusts he will fulfill his obligations when he assents to sex; he trusts she is making accurate observations of her fertility and is keeping him informed.

He develops a sense of awe in the way God made her, and she develops a sense of gratitude that he is willing to sacrifice his own pleasure for her sake. And both grow in their love and trust in God when they see the plan for sex and marriage that He built into their bodies. I have seen and experienced how using Natural Family Planning can make a difference in marriage. That should come as no surprise because it’s God’s way to practice responsible parenthood it’s His design for life and love!

About the author
Fletcher Doyle is the author of Natural Family Planning Blessed Our Marriage, (Servant Books). He and his wife live in the Diocese of Buffalo.

Redeemed Sexuality

As Christians we should be grateful beyond words for the gift of our redemption. We believe that Christ’s action on the cross has changed all things, for all time. We should seek to relate every aspect of our lives to how Christ has redeemed us and our world. When we consider the mystery and contemporary confusion—of human sexuality, it is even more urgent for Christians to ask, “How has Christ redeemed human sexuality?”

Today our media features topics that not long ago would have been labeled science fiction, or pornography. Cloning, casual sex, getting pregnant by means of reproductive technologies, frozen embryos, adultery the list goes on. Does anyone in the public square relate these issues to the spiritual? When those of us try to bring God into the equation, we are often told that individual morality must not be imposed on the public. But that should not deter the Christian.

Christ’s work on the cross has restored all of human life, even human sexuality. That means that human sexuality is not tinged with sin, nor is it morally neutral. Although we can misuse even the best of God’s gifts, that does not change the fact that sex is God’s gift of life and love to us. Specifically, sexual intercourse was never meant to be directed to the individual. It’s not a sport or game to be enjoyed on its own. Sexual intercourse is a powerful event of interpersonal communion it is a sacramental event. This makes more sense when we realize that Christian marriage is a sign of Christ’s presence in the world. As Christians we accept on faith that human sexuality is caught up in Christ, uniting a man and woman in a union which reflects God’s love in the world and is directed to others. With that starting point, it makes excellent sense to keep sex in marriage.

The redeemed nature of marriage was understood by the Church from our earliest history. Following up on Jesus’ own words on the indissolubility of marriage, St. Paul likened Christian marriage to Christ’s relationship with His Church. As Christ loved the Church . . . so the husband should love and cherish his wife as he cherishes his own body; for husband and wife are one body, as Christ and the Church are one body. This is a great mystery (Ephesians 5:21-33). St. John Chrysostom (347-407) taught that the one flesh of the spouses is not an empty symbol. They have not become the image of anything on earth, but of God Himself (Homily 12).

The love of spouses, says the Catechism, requires of its very nature, the unity and indissolubility of the spouses’ community of persons, which embraces their entire life (#1644). The root of this indissolubility is found in God Himself, who taught us of His fidelity through His covenant with Abraham. It is found finally in Christ, who united Himself with His Church.

In this age of continuous assaults on God’s design for life and love, it would do the world good if Christians reclaimed our rich heritage.Before we can do this we need to return to the mystery of our faith and meditate on who Jesus is, what He did for us, and how this has changed all life for all ages.

About the author
Theresa Notare, PhD is Assistant Director of the Natural Family Planning Program of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops.

This is an edited version of an article that was first printed as a Life Issues Forum column. It is reprinted here with permission.

A Lesson In Love From Our Dying Son

In the fall of 2011, my husband Patrick and I had been married eight years and our family was rapidly growing. Our oldest child had just turned six and we were expecting our fifth child in December. John Paul was born on December 6, 2011. We knew immediately that something was very wrong. The delivery itself was traumatic, during which his arm was broken. When he was finally delivered, he didn’t make a sound. He couldn’t breathe. He was barely moving. He was whisked away to the neonatal intensive care unit. In the days and weeks that followed, we gradually started to understand the severity of John Paul’s condition. When he was 5 weeks old, he was diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA). We learned that SMA was a genetic, progressive and terminal neuromuscular disorder. Gradually, every muscle in John Paul’s body would weaken and eventually waste away. Usually death is caused by complications from a common cold because of respiratory weakness. You can imagine how we felt being told that our son would die from complications of a common cold, knowing that we had four children at home, several of whom were not yet adept at covering their mouth and nose when they sneezed or coughed.

Of course, Pat and I were devastated. We were trying to wrap our heads and hearts around the reality that confronted us. At the same time, we were also quickly falling desperately in love with our son. We saw his first smiles and he could even hold my finger in his hand. During our time in the NICU, it was a rollercoaster of singing lullabies and whispering sweet nothings one minute and the next using emergency procedures to bring his oxygen saturation levels back to normal because he couldn’t clear his airway the way most people do by swallowing or coughing.

We had gleaned some hope from families that we had been put in contact with who had children with the same diagnosis. They were living at home with their families, growing, learning and loving despite their weak bodies and many medical issues. In many cases, they were living way past what doctors were anticipating. We desperately wanted that for JP. We wanted our other kids to get to know their new brother and we wanted JP to feel the love and joy of a home and his family.

When he was 7 weeks old, JP had surgery for a G-tube, to enable us to feed him with a feeding pump and a tracheostomy because he required constant breathing support from a ventilator. When he was 3 months old, we brought him home.

It was beautiful to see the other kids interacting with him. Joey learned to use the suction machine and would practice reading to him, Liam loved learning to do his physical therapy exercises with him, Madie danced for him, and Ben would kiss him and play peek-a-boo. At every meal they would fight over whose turn it was to give him his medicine or hook up his bag of formula to his g-tube port. This was our “new normal” and we loved it.

We also had some pretty major struggles in getting adequate nursing care and ended up doing much of his 24-hour care ourselves, taking shifts through the night on weekends, frequently jumping from bed to assist a nurse in clearing his airway and help him recover his oxygen saturations to normal levels, taking him to appointments with just about every specialist you could name. He was hospitalized several times for infections. We also observed him quickly losing strength. Within a few months of his homecoming, he had lost the ability to smile, what little movement he had in his fingers disappeared and he was increasingly losing eye control.

Having a child who was so medically fragile introduced new challenges to our marriage as well. Never before was communication so critical. In some ways, it was easier to understand where the other was coming from. We were more sympathetic and patient because we were both going through the same sleep deprivation, emotional exhaustion, and tension of caring for a child whose life was not a given from one moment to the next. We were more unified and accommodating, and we literally knew where the other was at any given moment. John Paul gave us opportunities to love each other in new ways, like delaying waking the other when it was time for the 2 a.m. shift change or making sure the other got “snuggle time” with JP. We were reporting to each other when we needed to step away from John Paul’s side so that the other was “on call.” We also literally didn’t have the emotional energy for petty fighting. Did both of us snap sometimes in exhaustion, stress or frustration? Absolutely, but neither of us put that much weight on it. We both knew we were as vulnerable to the same weaknesses. Things that weren’t critical to the mission were quickly forgotten.

In other areas, our communication was more difficult than it ever had been. We had to make decisions about the future of our family and about how to do what was best for our son who was on life support, and we didn’t always agree. Little by little we learned that even when we disagreed quite strongly about the course we felt our family should take, we had to respect and trust the intentions and heart of the other. Resolutions were not always made overnight. Ultimately, because we both truly did have the interest of John Paul and the entire family in the forefront, when action needed to be taken, we were able to see eye to eye with time and prayer.

In February of 2013, we learned that much of John Paul’s brain had wasted. There were also new concerns that he had developed a type of nerve cancer. With a lot of prayer and peace, we discerned that God was calling John Paul home. On February 20, 2013, our parish priest said a Mass in our family room and, surrounded by family and songs of praise, JP joined the saints in heaven.

It has been a little over a year since John Paul died. Pat and I are learning how to support each other in the different ways we grieve. We are learning to be better listeners and better sharers. There is a deeper bond between us now. I can only compare it to what I imagine the bond is like between two soldiers who are fighting in the trenches together. I say “fighting” because even though John Paul isn’t with us now, the war is not over yet. It won’t be until we are both reunited with our little boy. There are plenty of battles left to fight and only God knows what they will involve. They may include more children with SMA. They may include more healthy children with other struggles. They will include the challenge of helping our children get to heaven.

Many times in the last two years, it took getting to that breaking point, whether it was feeling like getting adequate nursing care was impossible, receiving yet another call with bad test results from a doctor, or snapping at my husband in exhaustion, before I surrendered the circumstances to God. Ultimately, God did work everything out, but had I trusted Him with it sooner, perhaps I could have appreciated His hand in those moments rather than in retrospect. There are many statistics about the damage the death of a child can do to a marriage. Sadly, I don’t doubt their validity but it is a number that is unnecessarily high. When God gives us more than we can handle, it is because He wants us to entrust it to Him, let Him take care of it. We can only fail if we try to do it alone. Of course the myth is in thinking that we can do anything without God. Whether it is sharing the last piece of cake or burying a one year old son, we constantly rely on the grace that God gives us in our vocation to get our spouse and children to heaven.

About the author 
Elena Kilner is the author of Letters to John Paul: A Mother Discovers God’s Love in Her Suffering Child, http://mooringspress.com/letterstojohnpaul.html.

About the photo
Patrick and Elena Kilner with their children, used with permission.

The Seedbed of My Vocation: One Sister’s Story

The formation of every human person begins in a family, whatever its condition may be–healthy, religious, irreligious, broken, or divorced. Held in the tender loving care of our God, the family prepares, according to its state and condition, every child to know, love and serve God. Every family provides children with the place for natural maturation – physically, psychologically, spiritually – to receive and respond to a call from God to a vocation to the priesthood or consecrated life.

Allow me to share with you ways that my family became the “seedbed” for my vocation as a religious sister:

Marital love becomes familial and filial love. The love my father and mother had for each other, and for God, told me volumes about God’s love. It is faith in God that brought my parents through marital difficulties, deaths in the family, and other trials and joys of life. Through prayer, their relationship with God nourished qualities of healthy, holy relationships: courage in speaking the truth in love, patience in weaknesses, forgiveness after hurtful words and pardon sought. Our familial relationship with God was nourished (communally and individually) through the sacraments. The family is where I learned the love of God “made flesh” in our family, and this love nourished my own love for God and the love I have for the sisters in my religious community. In fact, as a religious sister, my love for God is expressed as being like that of spousal love, eventually sealed in my consecration to Him as a religious sister and profession of the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

Family Prayer. Hindsight is 20/20! Although I did not always understand the importance of prayer in our family, I sensed it. Kneeling after supper around the dinner table to pray the Rosary during Lent, going to the Stations of the Cross and the Sacrament of Penance, and Sunday Mass – despite my young “groans” at the discipline to do so – opened my heart to my own personal relationship with the Lord. As a young adult in college, I realized the importance of prayer and began to take responsibility for my own relationship with God through prayer.

A Sacred Meal. Eating our meals together as a family taught me the importance of being together, sharing the day’s blessings and challenges. I remember the struggle we shared when the telephone began ringing more frequently during supper. It interrupted our conversation and often seemed necessary to answer. We realized that many phone calls were not necessary to answer immediately. Valuing our time together, we decided to turn off the ringer during supper. I grew in respect for my parents’ wisdom and their vigilance over our family time together. Today, my religious community’s highest value is the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and we, too, must be vigilant in protecting it from interruption. The Mass is the “source and summit” of our life together and in service to others.

Respect for elders. Every Sunday after Mass, our family would visit my widowed paternal grandmother. Visiting her taught me the value of respect for authority, and this became the ground out of which I learned love for the Superiors of our religious community. I understood more readily from this example of benevolence towards the sick and dying the representation of God’s love that authority ideally holds. Knowing the responsibility they bear, I was more quick to pray for them. When persons in authority have no regard, respect or love for God, their authority becomes exercising power for the sake of controlling others to achieve their own ends. True authority is service for others.

Love of neighbor. The compassion that our family showed to the poor, sick, and suffering in our community taught me how to love my neighbor with generosity and tenderness. Children seem to have an innate ability to give, and help those in need. When nurtured, this desire becomes a fruitful form of self-gift to God. The joy of helping those in need is recalled at moments when the self-gift requires a deeper sacrifice. This is critical to understand and develop to maturity for any vocation. In fact, even after we have responded to a particular vocation of marriage, priesthood or consecrated life, maturation in self-donation to God, and others for the sake of the Kingdom, continues! Daily, in my work and prayer, God gives me opportunities to deepen my love for Him and for my neighbor.

These are just a few simple ways I recognize how my parents and family contributed to my religious vocation, and I could not be more grateful for their patience and love. May the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, guide all families and parents to respond to God’s will with generous and willing hearts for love of Him!

USCCB resources

Till Death Do Us Part

The following is an excerpt from the book It Is Well: Life in the Storm by Chris Faddis, shared with permission from the author and Carmel Communications. In his book, Chris writes about finding out on Easter Sunday 2011 that his wife Angela had terminal colon cancer. She died 17 months later at age 32, leaving behind her grieving husband and two young children. It Is Well is a story of grief, love, loss, and faith.

To purchase It Is Well, please visit http://itiswellbook.com.

I sat with Angela as much as I could, holding her hand, playing music and praying many prayers, yet I would find myself feeling very restless and anxious. There is no more helpless feeling than sitting by a loved one’s side waiting for them to die. I felt as
 if I should be doing something. To move away from the instincts
 of trying to help her live, of doing everything I could to fight
 this disease, towards suddenly giving up was painful and heart wrenching. I had discerned our decision to move Angela home with hospice care with the help of very knowledgeable friends who walked me through the process of making this decision. It was clear that Angela’s body was in the pre-active dying process, and that there really was nothing we could do to stop it. One friend posed the decision this way: “At some point it is time to surrender to God and if she is in the pre-active dying process, it might be that time to accept death.”

I was confident that we had made the right choice, but as 
I sat in her room, I felt helpless and useless. I would rethink my decisions and question myself. “Am I giving up too soon?” This wasn’t helped, of course, by a few well-meaning people who voiced that they thought I was giving up hope. So in my restlessness and uneasiness I would pace, find things to do and find myself getting frustrated. As I would come back into the room, I would look at Angela’s peaceful face, and I would realize that my only job was to just be present to her and to wait patiently with her for death. When I finally surrendered to this reality, that my only job was to just be present to her, I felt an incredible peace.

hands

Chris Faddis holding his wife Angela’s hand

One particular afternoon, just a few days before she died, I sat with Angela and held her hand as I read to her. She would occasionally look up and listen or smile. I would tell her how much I loved and cherished her and she would respond with a faint response. At one point she whispered, “I always knew you would cherish me to the end.” As she fell back to sleep, I looked down at our hands and her ring was missing. It had fallen off several times, as Angela was so frail that it was now too large for her finger. She had placed it on the table next to her bed. I picked up the ring
and placed it on her finger and held her hand again. I gazed upon our hands, reflecting on that ring and what it symbolized, on our hands and the symbolism of husband and wife walking hand in hand through life. I thought about the first time we held hands. It was on our first date to Cirque du Soleil. At one point Angela had moved her hand near mine and then gently touched my hand. I took her hand till the crowd erupted in applause and a standing ovation. Angela never admitted to holding my hand that night. She would say, “I did not hold your hand that night. I wasn’t ready.” 
I would laugh and remind her of the many things she did during that time of friendship – when she supposedly did not want to date yet – like lean on me, touch my hand, and even press her cheek against mine for a long time, as if to wait for a kiss. She would laugh at me and say, “Whatever, I was not that forward.” I then thought about when we did finally hold hands after we were “officially” dating. There is something remarkable about holding hands when you are falling in love.

Many people say it’s in the kiss that you know, or it’s love at first sight; I tend to think it’s in the hands. Holding hands was not always romantic, but holding hands was our constant connection to one another. Even when in an argument or a difficult conversation, we would often hold hands. When Angela was struggling with depression, I held her hands many times just to calm her, to soothe her, to help her feel supported. Angela, too, would hold my hand when I was having a hard day or down about my
job situation or our financial hurdles. A simple touch of her hand would instantly soothe me.

Through Angela’s cancer journey, holding hands had become our primary form of intimacy. Whether Angela was receiving chemotherapy, waiting for surgery or simply resting at home, we would spend lots of time holding hands, talking, praying and simply being present. As I held her hand during this seventeen-month journey, I would often squeeze and hold her hand very tight as I thought about losing her, as if I could somehow hold her tight enough to keep her from dying. Now sitting in our room as she lie in wait for death, holding her hand was literally all I had left. She could hardly speak or even acknowledge my words; I simply had to hold her hand to communicate my love and to be sure she knew she was not alone. Indeed, I would be there till the end.

As I thought about her hands, I also thought about that ring, the one I gave her as I asked her to be my bride and the ring that stood as a symbol of this life-long Sacrament of Marriage. With that ring came our promise to love one another fully and completely until death came for one of us. The wedding ring speaks of permanence, of commitment, of an unbreakable bond between a husband and wife. Yet that ring could not bind her any longer; it could not keep her from dying, and it certainly could not keep her from heaven.

As I sat in this moment, I wanted to capture our hands one last time. I took a picture that I later shared. It is the image of us holding hands with Angela’s ring as the focal point of the image.
 A week or so earlier I had verbally told Angela that she was free to go home. My words on that day were, “You took my hand and you have loved me well. When Jesus comes and offers you his hand, you are free to go.” After taking the picture of our hands I felt I should say those words again. So I wrote them down and then read them to Angela:

“Till Death”

As if I could keep you longer, I placed this ring back on your finger today. It had fallen off a few times.

Oh, that this ring could keep you here longer. It is a mark of our commitment; it is my promise to love you with my whole heart, and yet there is a love greater than mine that will take you soon. How could this mere piece of gold compare to the love of God, which loves you completely, wholly, and perfectly?

It cannot, so I will hold your hand a little while longer. I will keep putting this ring back on your finger. But when the time comes and He asks you for your hand, you are free to go. Go to that perfect love which makes all things new. Go and be whole again. For now, till death do we part.

This Is My Body

Did you know that marriage is the one sacrament that priests do not administer?

When I married Stacey 15 years ago, the priest led the ceremony and gave us cues as to what to say, but his role, in essence, was to witness—more properly, “to receive”—our vows to love each other till death. He stood as witness with the whole community of faith to hear us say those words to each other, and in the name of the Church he received and blessed what we had done.

This means that the true ministers of the sacrament of marriage are the spouses. I minister the sacrament of marriage to Stacey, and she ministers it to me. Not only did we minister the sacrament of marriage to one another on our wedding day, but we also ministered the sacrament of marriage to one another on the day after the wedding. And the day after that.

In fact, every action and behavior of our married life together is an expression of the sacrament of marriage. When I fill a hot-water bottle to heat the bed for Stacey on a cold night, I am ministering the sacrament of marriage to her. In another 40 years of married life, God-willing, when Stacey parses the week’s medications into daily segments for me, she will be ministering the sacrament of marriage to me.

When we are talking to couples preparing for marriage, this sounds like a beautiful vision and ideal. And it does transform the way we see the life we share together. On the inside, however—in the day-to-day, boots-on-the-ground reality of family life—love takes shape in messy, demanding, frustrating ways. It often feels like death by 1,000 cuts, and that is because love is sacrifice—it means giving yourself away for the good of another.

Sometimes I envy the martyrs who could give their lives to love in one final decision. Marriage presents me with 349 decisions to sacrifice myself every single day. It makes me wonder why anyone would choose this life. It seems like a small miracle that people go on marrying and raising children at all.

Certainly our culture does not value self-denial. Our economy is built upon consumption, and advertising and media barrage us with the idea that autonomy and status are paths to happiness. Love in marriage and family life is an emptying and a binding, and it stands in stark contrast to what we see on TV.

For someone looking for freedom, emptying and binding sounds like the last thing they could want. Yet, paradoxically, generations of faithful people have given themselves away in marriage and family life and found exactly that—freedom.

Freedom is a slippery word, especially in America. True freedom is the freedom to grow in goodness, to become the people we were created to be. And because we are created in the image of God, who is love, we are most truly ourselves, happy, and free when we love.

That is to say, we experience true freedom when we discover that we are becoming holy because we are offering love to our spouses and children. Our culture twists that notion to try to fool us into thinking that freedom is about the open road with a new Chevy Silverado, but that is just silly.

The good news is that we participate in the mystery of God when we love, and this brings us new life. Marriage and family life is a way for us to give our lives over to love 349 ways every day, and it gives us glimpses of heaven every single day, too. To see our children love one another, for example, is just a miracle. There is no way that on my own I can account for the magnitude of that kind of goodness.

Now I’m not saying that every moment in our household is accompanied by a chorus of alleluias. The bulk of our experience is filled with the mundane: getting kids to school, working, making dinner, doing dishes, cleaning the house, shopping for groceries, and so on. But I don’t know of any life that isn’t full of the mundane.

God wants to be discovered within our human experience, not in some abstract ideal. Stacey and I have certainly discovered the truth that marriage is a school for love—that we are working out our salvation with one another, helping each other get to heaven.

This is the kernel of truth behind what we discerned when we decided to get married—we knew that we were at our best together. I knew that a life with Stacey would make me a better person than I could become on my own. A decade and a half later, I’m utterly convinced of this fact—Stacey calls me to growth and encourages me to continue striving for perfection. I’ll never reach that perfection in this world, but sharing a life with her gives me a concrete way to pursue holiness.

As humans, we are tied to sense and corporeality—if we can’t see, smell, taste, touch, or hear something, it is difficult for us to grasp it. Marriage and family life allow us to experience love with our senses. Yesterday, for example, love smelled like toothpaste, steaming vegetables, strawberry-scented shampoo, and popcorn.

Though sex is a part of the physicality of love in marriage, it is a very small part. Mostly, we communicate and care for each other’s bodies—we wash children’s bodies, we feed each other’s bodies with shared meals, we transport bodies to and from school and work and activities, we nurse sick bodies back to health and help tired bodies rest. It was the same with Jesus—he made his body an instrument of love. He still does.

In fact, the Eucharist is the best way for us as spouses and parents to connect our 349 acts of love each day with the one act of love that God has given the world in his Son. We can say with the priest, who repeats these words from Jesus himself: “This is my body, given up for you.”