I have entered a fascinating new period of motherhood. One I have longed for deeply, one I have tried to push myself into unsuccessfully, one I had almost given up hope of ever entering, and one I finally resigned myself to the thought that if God wants, and when He wants, I will enter. Well, eight children later, I am finally able to go to Mass during the week. I don’t go every day, but aim for 2 or 3 days. God seemed to be putting on my heart in a more intense way the need for more prayer, like a lot more. And sometimes we wonder, “How am I going to ever find the time? How can I really give of myself in that way intensely as I have this, this, and this obligation….” and on goes the list. A dear friend sent me a little post from a dad somewhere out in cyberspace praising all the moms who take their babies to daily Mass. He did a great job articulating things; it was a very well written piece. And so, this little encouragement, this gentle push from a friend, had me wondering if daily Mass might just be what God had in mind when He kept nudging me to go deeper. I left the inspiration there for the moment.
Then my husband and I wanted to go to Mass for the feast of St. Therese to finish our novena to our dear saint friend. She brought us together, has answered so many prayers, and well, she is just awesome. We found a church down the road from our children’s school with an 8:15 Mass… just enough time to go through carline and get into the church. It was a blessing for that day. Then the nudging persisted… so I tried it. Colette is two and not always the most docile of toddlers… and well, you just never know how toddlers are going to do in church – every time is a brand new adventure. She was wonderful. And Andre, little chubby angel that he is, was content. So, we tried again…. and again. It is becoming a habit, and a good one. We use the entrance door that goes right into the cryroom, and Mass happens. I hear some of the readings, we watch Jesus come onto the altar, Colette loves “peace” time, and when it’s time to “go see Jesus” in communion, she is all in. After, she runs back, and stops at our Lady’s statue and kneels right down and fold her hands. Sometimes I just want to cry watching it all happen – it is such a gift. I longed for this my whole motherhood, but it was never the right time. Sometimes that holy day of obligation was the toughest Mass ever, and I would just pray that me getting through with the wailing child would help some poor soul in purgatory. Yes, I was and still am that mom who will bring the screaming child up to Communion, because, I love Him and NEED Him immensely, need that grace as I make it through this crazy beautiful messy calling of motherhood. (And I encourage any parent with an unhappy child in the back of the church to go up or tell them to go see the priest after Mass if they don’t make it up to communion so they can receive – because we all need Jesus.) 🙂
So, I am very grateful for this new season. It may only last a couple of months, but I am going to soak it in! And when the season ends, it will be ok. (I am really looking forward to Dan and I being that old couple at daily Mass… those couples are the cutest!) One thing I have learned not only in motherhood, but in life is, there are different seasons for different things. (I’ll write more on this later.) For now, I am glad God is showing me to embrace the present moment, grateful for a gentle push from a friend, and thankful for God’s little nudges to draw me closer to His Heart. And as I look out from the cryroom, just past the altar, I see a beautiful yet simple wooden statue of St. Therese, and wonder if maybe she is smiling.