soulful saturdays: classroom full of saints

Soulful Saturdays: Classroom Full of Saints

This is what Halloween is looking like over here; at least as it went down yesterday in my son's first-grade class. On Monday, I'll explain why I was filled with conflicting emotion -- almost to the point of crying -- when I first saw this photo (taken by another parent). The tears were right there, but I pushed them back down. It was a moment of feeling both intense happiness and sadness, and at first, I wasn't sure what to make of it. How could one photo have such an effect? Later, the reason for my near-tears became clearer. Stay tuned for "Mama Mondays" to find out why.

In the meantime, I'm not quite done with the Halloween debate. I read a great article today that really articulated the gist of how I feel about the subject of whether Christians should take part in Halloween events. It's really been interesting to consider the many different viewpoints throughout the week, but when all is said and done, these words by Ken Eastburn capture many of my own thoughts -- especially in the concluding (penultimate) paragraph.

All Hallow's Eve blessings and peace to all!

faith fridays: the great halloween debate

Faith Fridays: The Great Halloween Debate

Throughout this week leading up to the holiday known for its tricks and treats, I've found a plethora of bloggers weighing in on The Great Halloween Debate. I'd been planning on posting on the subject anyway, so now I have even more to add to my own thoughts. But first, a little of my personal history with the holi-day (holy day).

Growing up on the Fort Peck Reservation in Northeast Montana, Halloween was a huge deal. My mother, an elementary teacher, would keep track of the numbers of trick-or-treaters who would come to our house to collect their treats. Sometimes my dad would be hiding in the shadows and would give a good "Raaaaaarh!" and scare the little kiddos (poor things -- the older ones loved it but the younger ones ran away). The numbers often ranged in the 300s. She would be exhausted by the end of the night from candy-passing, which she did from a chair in later years to help with back strain. This was a big night for us kids on the rez, and most of my memories of it are relatively tame and fun-filled.

It wasn't until college when I was preparing to go to a Halloween gathering with a friend that I learned my fairly benign view of Halloween wasn't necessarily the way everyone looked at it. While I gingerly separated the whiskers on my cat costume, a Christian friend poked his head into my dorm room and asked what I was doing and why. Why, he wondered, would I want to take part in an evil activity by celebrating Halloween? This was the first time I'd heard of such a thing. I could only wonder where I'd been my whole life to have been shielded from this "truth" of which he spoke so matter-of-factly.

But as I let his words turn round in my head, and as my view of the world expanded further in later years, I came to understand the reluctance of some to embrace Halloween. For some, it has become a celebration of death and evil. If it is primarily this, then I don't want to have anything to do with it, either. However, I also feel that far too often, in our attempts to bring balance to a certain concept or situation, we go too far, and in the end, we allow others to define what we should rightfully claim.

Blogger Taylor Marshall had some great thoughts about it, in my opinion, including this: "The whole point of 'All Hallows' is to remind us to be 'hallowed' or 'sanctified'. Most of us won't have our own particular feast day and so All Saints Day will be our feast day. It is the feast day for most of the Church's saints, those who lived peaceably, followed Christ, loved their families, accomplished their duties in life and passed on to the next life. May their prayers be with us."

I also liked these thoughts of his: "There are many Christians who have written off Halloween as some sort of diabolical black mass. It's the vigil of a Christian holy day: All Hallows' Eve or All Saints Eve. Has it been corrupted by our culture and consumer market? You bet. However, Christmas has also been derailed by the culture. Does that mean that we're going hand over Christmas? No way! Same goes for Halloween. The Church does not surrender what rightfully belongs to her - she wins it back!"

I know not everyone will agree. Some still will contend Halloween focuses too much on the dark side. Tell that to my little boys, who have always considered Halloween their very favoritest of celebrations because they get to dress as someone different. Tell my daughters, who squealed with delight tonight when I mentioned it was time to carve pumpkins. Yes, we need to be vigilant about such things and people's intentions about them, but is it possible to go overboard in our attempts to live holy, light-filled lives?

Personally, I love how our school views Halloween. This, to me, seems a very balanced perspective and one I can feel confident imparting to my children, who LOVE the good aspects of Halloween. This is taken directly from our school newsletter:

Dear Families,

Over the years at (our school) we have stressed the Christian tradition of Halloween (a holiday that is truly a big event for young children). The early Christians took a pagan custom of dressing up on this day not to scare off evil spirits (as did the pagans who did not believe in God) but to say, “Death, you have no hold on us. We have the Great Gift of Jesus Christ who gives us life after Death.” An old name for All Saints’ Day was Hallowmas. (“Hallow” is another word for saint.) The eve of All Saints was called All Hallow’s Eve, which was shortened to Halloween.

Students will have the options of wearing their costumes on October 30...Thank you for planning costumes that can handle all the activities and work well in the classroom. (Please remember, no masks or scary items. Thanks!) We invite you to join us for a prayer service at 12:45 in the church.

Family Traditions: Keep Jack-O’Lanterns burning from October 31 to November 2...three nights of holy light. We decorate our homes with spooky images and tell stories of ghosts and goblins because, as Christians, we have the last laugh. In Christ, we have nothing to fear.

Trick or Treat is another name for hospitality. When we open our door, who will we greet? It may be Christ! Like trick or treaters at the end of the night, one day we will remove our masks and lay aside our soiled clothes. And we will see ourselves as we truly are, the children of God arrayed like the saints in bright glory. (Taken from Leaders Manual for Catholic Students)

A confession now: I often dread Halloween, mainly because it's hard to come up with five appropriate and economical costumes every year. I am not a good seamstress (not even close) and don't like a lot of the options out there, so it ends up being more of a pain in the neck at times than anything else. All the same, I have a lot of fun Halloween memories, and to me, October wouldn't be the same without Halloween. Tonight, when the kids and I engaged in our annual pumpkin-carving session and watched their creations light up, it felt no different to me than when we decorate our tree at Christmas time. In my humble opinion, as long as the focus stays on Christ and in the light, Halloween, too, can be a positive, memory-making experience for families with young children, especially.

What about you? Do you think it's possible for Halloween to be reclaimed by Christians? Or are we better off disassociating with it altogether? (Don't worry about offending me. I always appreciate a healthy, respectful conversation.)

For other spirited discussions on Halloween and its virtues (or not), go to Conversion Diary, or fly on over to Taylor Marshall's blog, Canterbury Tales.

writing wednesdays: ten ways to use a cot mattress

Writing Wednesdays: Ten Ways to Use a Cot Mattress

1) Stack them up, layer by layer, and practice pretend “pole-vaulting,” seeing who can jump the highest and still land on the target. Giggle plenty upon landing.
2) Lay them out flat, side by side, and have a roll race.
3) Steal a few from your sister’s cot so you’ll have enough to be comfortable.
4) Have big brother assist by holding them up horizontally and body-slamming into them.
5) Enjoy a midday nap upon them.
6) Use them as a resting spot for elbows during video night.
7) Pretend they are roads and drive your cars on them.
8) Jump on them (duh!).
9) Collect them and brag that you have more mattresses than your little brother. Laugh as he fumes at the injustice of it all.
10) Enlist the help of your brothers and friends to build the coolest A-frame forts ever. Create a whole mattress village and have just as much fun when the village caves in as when it was erected.

Ah, those mattresses. I couldn’t thank them enough for the entertainment they provided the boys of our two-family enclave this weekend at Camp Wilderness Boy Scout Camp in Minnesota. Though it got a little noisy at times on the bottom level of the cabin where the extra mattresses were stored, I’m pretty sure that at one point or another, every last boy-child sharing the space (six in all) took part in seeing the many ways a cot mattress can be manipulated.

This is the kind of thing you do when you’re not "plugged in" 24-7. You find other ways to bide your time, and the way I see it, it’s all good, even the more raucous moments of rough-housing. As my mom-to-all-boys friend Mary pointed out to me in the past, this is the way male children in particular exhibit love – through body-slams with a few yelps and screeching thrown in for effect.

I, for one, was spectator, not initiator or player, in this seemingly ongoing game of mattress mayhem. But the play of our boys wasn’t altogether different than what I was experiencing internally during our weekend in the woods.

For me, living unplugged for a few days was like falling into a vast vat of pillows, and I was in no hurry to surface. As I fell further and further into the well of offline loveliness, I could feel my body giggling with relief.

As for how the weekend affected my writing, what I can say with certainty is that the writing life is dead if we are not engaging somehow with life itself. The plugged-in world can feed us information, offer insight and help keep the channel of our writing flowing. But if it’s only the plugged-in world we encounter, I’m fairly certain that in time, the well will run dry.

Writing is as much about the moments we spend away from screens and pen and paper as those we spend in their company. Does a visual artist only create while in front of a canvas with palette in hand? Only through actively participating in the real world can art erupt from the center of the soul.

Our weekend in the woods gave me something I could not have gotten from the ordinary alone. I curled up with a book I’ve wanted to read for years, just for the pleasure of it. I mingled unencumbered with nature, which had an enlivening effect on dulled senses. I focused exclusively on the relationships right in front of me. And I delightedly shared in food preparation for a crew of fourteen with a forever friend.

All of this culminated in the last evening, when I could not fall asleep. Somehow, by getting away, I’d come upon a mental break-through regarding a project I’ve been stewing over for a quite a while now. I also experienced an epiphany regarding another situation that is equally important.

In other words, by stepping out of the box of ordinary life, my creative spirit was released in a way that was not possible previously. Just as my boys had found new ways to burn energy without the lure of being plugged-in, in a sense I, too, was jumping on mattresses, building forts, and seeing ordinary things in a new way.

Had I not had that time in a cabin in the woods with my loved ones, I might never have learned the raw truth: It’s not just a plain old mattress after all.

How imperative is it to the writing life to step into another world every once in a while, even for a short time? Where are some places you've gone to help you see things in a new way?

Oh, and don't forget: Next Wednesday, guest writer and children's author Lisa Moser will be our second "Spotlight's On..." featured interviewee. I promise, you won't regret stopping by to read the insight Lisa has offered to share with us!

(If you didn't catch them Monday, you can see more photos of our recent Camp Wildnerness adventure here.)

mama mondays: nature walk at camp wilderness in images

Mama Mondays: Nature Walk at Camp Wilderness

faith fridays: infant loss: what gabriel taught me

Faith Fridays: What Gabriel Taught Me

Why would a good God allow suffering, many wonder? This wondering has caused many to abandon God. A good God and a suffering world cannot coexist, they say as they walk sadly, even disgustedly, away.

If only they understood we are not here to learn to be happy. We are here to learn to draw near to our Creator so that when we are called into the next life, we will be inclined to choose, on our own accord, Love. Forced love is not love; it defies the very definition of true love, which is freely given and chosen. And so it is that God, who desires our happiness but knows that our choosing Love is even more important than our attaining happiness, allows suffering. He does not cause it, but in His wisdom, He steps aside to let the world He created happen as it might. In this way, we are freed to choose Him, in spite of suffering, in spite of our continued failure to find perfect happiness in this life.

When bad things happen in our world, it is tempting to blame God. But when God allowed our son Gabriel to die in 1999, God-focused anger was the furthest thing from my mind and heart. I knew that God would never offer a gift to one of His own, only to swipe it away like a revengeful sibling: “Just kidding. You don’t deserve that after all!” God doesn’t breathe life into the world, into a mother’s womb, only to have a change of heart. God is not fickle. God is steady, and He is all about bringing life into the world. When life is fleeting, God grieves with us. As Jesus wept at the death of Lazarus, so God weeps when we lose our loved ones.

As I mentioned in Monday’s post, October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. And on Thursday evening, I attended a ceremony commemorating those who have lost a child, whether prior to or after birth. It’s been ten years since Gabriel slipped away from us in the night, leaving our arms empty and aching. But as I look back on that time of pain and emptiness, I am grateful my faith was far enough along that I did not feel inclined, for a solitary moment, to blame God. Instead of feeling God turning away from us, I sensed Him coming closer. Three months later, on my birthday, God breathed life into our lives again, and nine months from then we welcomed Gabriel’s second sister, Elizabeth ("Gift from God") into the world.

Our God is a God of hope. He uses suffering moments to help us see Him more clearly, if we choose to respond to suffering in that way. I am grateful God has allowed just enough suffering into my life to cause me to yearn for Him, yet just enough hope, too, to help me not fall into permanent despair.

Gabriel’s short life was abundantly fruitful. He taught me so much. He affirmed to me that the soul is vibrant, even in its earliest stages of existence. He taught me that love can be set in motion even when the object of that love is not visible to the eye. He made heaven more real to me and offered me the assurance that our family would have a special angel looking out for us, leading us toward him and God. He erased any doubts I might have had before his life regarding the immense blessing of each human life. He strengthened my convictions, even as the world shouted messages to the contrary. Because he was so real to me, he lit a fire in my belly concerning the sanctity of all life. Gabriel’s brief existence helped hone my vision to help me see many things more clearly. He reminded me that all of “our” children are first and foremost His, and that I, too, belong firstly to Him. And then, just to make sure we would have plenty of visible reminders of God’s love for us, he helped expand our hearts to make room for another soul...and another...and another. When people raised eyebrows over our growing family, it was Gabriel who reminded me not to care what others might think.

Who, now, is brave enough to argue with me over the eternal merits of one small, unseen being? Who would dare tell me such a tiny being is incapable of making an immense impact on the world; in fact, of changing its very course? Gabriel changed our tiny corner of the world, and because of him, other worlds were changed in turn. Who then can claim his life was not immeasurably significant?

I have written more about Gabriel in this post, Remembering Gabriel, and this one, Lessons from the Heart of My Daughter. I also wrote about how we handled his death in an article, Placing Empty Arms in God’s Hands for Catholicmom.com.

I’ll end with words written on a card that was handed out at the ceremony. I hope that all those who have lost a child or know someone special who has will take this in and be comforted by it:

Psalm 139: 13-18

Truly you have formed my inmost being;

You knit me in my mother’s womb.

I give you thanks that I am fearfully,

wonderfully made;

Wonderful are your works.

My soul also you knew full well;

Nor was my frame unknown to you

When I was made in secret

When I was fashioned in the depths

Of the earth.

Your eyes have seen my actions;

In your book they are all written;

My days were limited before one of them existed.

How weighty are your designs, O God;

How vast the sum of them!
Were I to recount them, they would outnumber the sands;

Did I reach the end of them, I should

Still be with you.

If you have lost a child or children and feel open to sharing their name (s) here, please do. I will set aside some special time in the coming days to pray for those whose earthly lights shone far too briefly, but whose heavenly lights are brighter than the brightest star and guiding us onward.

writing wednesdays: goodbye vampires, hello angels (the reversion of anne rice)

Writing Wednesdays: Goodbye Vampires, Hello Angels

She was born into a Christian family but renounced all that in her late teens, embracing instead a heavily doubting form of agnosticism verging on atheism. In early adulthood, she became a full-fledged part of the hippie movement with her artist husband, Stan, and went on to become a bestselling author. But even worldwide acclaim could not adequately satisfy her soul, and in 1998, this expert writer on all things vampire rediscovered the faith of her childhood, and has dedicated all her future works to her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Some of her longtime fans wonder, what’s up with Anne Rice? What’s gotten into her? But those who have experienced a similar wooing by the light simply say, “Welcome back, dear sister in Christ!”

For me, there are few things as inspiring as discovering that a fellow Christian who had fallen prey to the world and its promises has found her way back into the fold. Though some of her readers remain suspect, I am with those ready to offer a hearty embrace to Anne Rice: “Welcome home!”

Now, I have a confession to make here: I have not read any of Rice’s books, though I first learned of her work years ago. Even so, as a fellow writer, mother and Christian, I can’t help but feel excited to know of Rice’s “reversion.” I look forward to reading her memoir, Called Out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession, as well as her newest novel, Angel Time.

I stumbled upon Rice's reversion story through the blog of my writer-mama pal, Mary DeTurris Poust. In the article she wrote for Our Sunday Visitor based on an interview with Rice, Mary uncovered some inspiring thoughts of the well-known author's related to how even her earlier work surrounding vampires comprised elements of her faith journey:

Rice said, “As I was writing Interview with the Vampire, I knew that I identified with Louis the vampire and that I felt like a creature of the night and a creature who was separated from God and a creature who was lost and pretty miserable. The book is really a meditation on misery, on the misery of being separated from God. I felt very comfortable writing it because it allowed me to express my sorrow. It's only years later that I realized the book is about the loss of my Catholic faith. It's about a fall from grace, about leaving the Church, about roaming in the darkness of atheism for many years and feeling as obsessed with God as ever.” [My emphasis...]

Those words struck me in a particular way. Feeling as obsessed with God as ever. In this way, Rice is no different than any of us. We are all, in a sense, obsessed with God, whether or not we want to name it that. We are obsessed with Love, after all – finding it and somehow retaining it, as well as finding ways to give it away. That is all any of us wants – to love and be loved. This is at the root of all our desires -- money, success and wholeness. It's really all about Love, and wanting more of it. God alone can offer this to us in any kind of fulfilling way. Anything else we experience in this life is only a glimpse of what is to come. Think of the most wonderful moment you have ever experienced. And consider that that moment of exhilaration was simply a point at which you made a direct connection with your Creator. And no matter how lovely, it was still just a glimmer, but it is, in fact, that glimmer to which we are all drawn – even if, on occasion, in a misguided way.

All of this got me thinking about salvation, and how we writers are working out our salvation in a particular way through our work. Even though Rice didn’t know that's what she was doing earlier on, inevitably, she was able to see that even through writing about darker themes, she was gradually finding her way back to her God, Light of all Lights!

This is a profound thought to me, and one worthy of consideration as we move through our lives, whether in our writing or in relating to those around us day to day. I thank Rice (and Mary) for pointing out this awesome thought to me.

In what ways does your writing reflect your daily movement toward God – the One who has given you the desire to write in the first place? How are you responding to this gift of writing, especially as it relates to your salvation?

To read Mary’s interview with Rice, go here.

mama mondays: the infusion

Mama Mondays: The Infusion

A few bits of previously unmentioned business to tend to before I get to the main piece of my Monday post...

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. October 15 in particular was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. If you know someone who has lost an infant or is pregnant right now, throw out a little prayer for them. And if you happen to live in the Fargo-Moorhead area and have been affected by infant loss at any stage, consider attending a special Mass of God's Children at 7 p.m. on Thursday, October 22, at St. Anthony's of Padua, Fargo.

Talking with Tanya. In association with the above, I'll be talking with Tanya Watterud on the radio today, October 19, at Real Presence Radio (online) or 1280 AM locally, around 10 a.m. Central Time. If you're not too busy at that time and have easy access, I hope you'll listen. It was through experiencing infant loss in the same year that Tanya and I moved from being just colleagues to friends.

An October baby among us. My daughter, Olivia, was born this month, and today we are celebrating the 12th anniversary of her baptism.

Around the time of her birthday, I wrote a post about what it was like to be moving from "center stage mama" to "sidelines mama" within her pre-teen life. I'd said then, "Even as my presence begins to wane in apparent vibrancy, I know that all is well. I know that it means those pieces of myself I’ve been offering my children all this time are now becoming infused into who they are. The more I get out of the way, the more they can be who they are meant to be." The other day, Olivia shared some writings of hers with me, and I couldn't help but think of how wonderfully they exemplify what I was hinting at in that earlier posting. As I read her words, I quickly made the connection that this essay shows the in-progress infusion of parent-to-child I'd mentioned back then. Though this is her take on life, I hear myself in her words. I share this as an example of how, so long as we keep trying to do our best to guide our children, at some point we might just hear them echoing pieces of our vision of the world back.

Life Everlasting by O.S. (with permission)

Earth, The World, and Life

From what we know about the outside world it is beautiful. A little bit dangerous, unpredictable weather at some times, scary, vast, full of strangers…But most of all, it’s beautiful. Live your life with no regrets, and marvel at the smallest things.

It’s not some mistake that we ended up on this world; the life around us that we know of could end any second. At that second I want to be ready. I want to be ready, to be able to love and cherish God and Jesus in Heaven with my parents, family, and friends, and I want to be able to see those pearly gates and know that I will soon be entering my Life Everlasting.

The human mind is a miracle, but we are not advanced enough to understand how God just was. To believe we need to use our hearts, soul, and all the faith that we have. Go to church, pray, love all those who you meet, the nice ones to be around, and the other ones, too. Live your life with few mistakes, and the ones you make; learn from them.

Our time is short, and this beautiful, marvelous, spectacular place in which we live is…well it's amazing! But we won’t always be here. It’s like a vacation. There’s good and bad times, and you can venture out into the unknown, but Heaven is a vacation while on vacation.

Furthermore, this life is a gift, but Heaven, Heaven is the big gift under the Christmas tree that you wait to open last so you can see the “big” surprise inside it. And this will be one gift that you won’t be disappointed with.

[My question for you: When have those you nurtured echoed back your vision of the world?]

7 quick takes friday (vol. 23)

Welcome back to “7 Quick Takes Friday,” an occasional feature that offers a glimpse of where my thoughts have been lately.

---1---

Kid quotes:

While in the van the other day, the three youngest children were having a conversation which involved the word imagination. The oldest two were discussing with zeal thoughts from their imaginations. Five minutes into it, Nick, 4, a child born with a permanent chip on his forever-tiny “baby of the family” shoulders, exclaimed in a whiny voice with furrowed brows:

“How come I never have imaginations?!”

Postscript: It has become extremely hard for Beth, 9, not to chuckle when such utterances emerge from her littlest brother’s mouth. However, she’s learned that if she does, this makes the chip grow larger...and so we simply glance at one another with a quiet smile and silently agree to keep our giggles on the inside.

Another from Nick, heard yesterday in the van after he’d eaten a great deal of something salty and felt in dire need of something to wash it down:

“I’m thirsty to death!”

Not to be confused with, “I’m steaming cold,” or “I’m freezing hot,” uttered by the same 4-year-old a few months back. (He must have his mother’s syntax problem. I once said “Teast and Toe” instead of “Toast and Tea” during a high-school oral interpretation presentation for speech and debate. I’ve also been known to say “Achon and bags” for bacon and eggs.)

--2--

Most discussed post this week: For those who aren’t able to check in for my thrice weekly posts, you might have missed the one this week that garnered the most discussion. Read my thoughts on The New Feminism here. (Hint: I’m totally on board with it.)

---3---

Blackberry blues: About a month ago, our youngest son tangled with my Blackberry during an afternoon tantrum. The Blackberry ended up with a cracked outer screen. I took it into Alltell and was told my only option was to buy a new Blackberry. Since it wasn’t insured and I wasn’t due for another phone under my contract, it would be around $400 for a replacement. Since $400 wasn’t in the budget, I searched out some options and learned a wireless store in town could do the job for about $40, but they hadn’t gotten any new screens in for a while and the orders from Hong Kong seemed to be stalled for some reason. I was beginning to lose hope when I stumbled upon an option online. The screen part came in today, less than a week after my online order was placed. Damage total: $6. Wow! From $400 to $6, and it’s the best $6 I’ve ever spent. I am so happy, after a month of looking at a cracked screen, to have one that is clear! But I feel like I’ve uncovered some sort of conspiracy going on within the cell-phone business. Hmmmm. Anyone else experienced something similar?

---4---

Trying on a new hat. I’ve been nudged into discovering a new talent. Just over a month ago, I was approached by a representative of the Valley Reading Council here in Fargo about whether I’d be interested in being part of a slate of storytellers to present for area students and teachers. Though I’ve never considered myself THAT kind of storyteller (I have the greatest admiration for those who can weave a great tale by memory – my father among them), I summoned the nerve to drum up a new presentation. Without a ready-made repertoire on which to draw, I decided to go with something tried and true. I was inspired by having heard the masterful storyteller, Lise Lunge-Larsen, perform her version of The Three Billy Goats Gruff at a Young Authors Conference last spring, and was in touch with Lise in the weeks leading up to the presentations. So, trolls and goats it was, and though I approached this task initially as did the goats who crossed that bridge, I ended up on the other side, just as they did, with a very dead troll (fear) rolling down the mountainside. In the end, the happy voices of children and affirming voices of other storytellers and teachers propelled me into that land of green, dry, tasty grass. And it was very delicious indeed!

--5--

Storyteller heroes: One of the best outcomes of having accepted the aforementioned challenge was meeting three other much more seasoned storytellers at an event here in Fargo last evening. Among them: Ceil Anne Clement (North Dakota), L, Yvonne Healy (Michigan), R, and Patricia Nunn (Minnesota). Until now, I thought my fellow children’s authors were some of the most awesome people in the land, but now, storytellers have joined their ranks in my mind.

---6---

Wacky Web Tales: Those who enjoyed Mad Libs as a kid might enjoy sharing this with their children, nephews/nieces and/or grandchildren. I used Wacky Web Tales to engage children in creating their own story online as part of my storytelling presentation, and it was a hit.

--7—

Ahoy! Pirates ahead! I tried out my storytelling on my youngest three earlier in the week. Little did I know that one of the visiting storytellers would end up visiting their elementary school. I figured it out last night when I was talking with Patty at the evening storytelling gathering, and she said she’d done her presentation in front of a pirate ship earlier that day. I knew what school she’d been at! Below's a snippet from the performance.

Argh, matey! Go off now and have a lubberly weekend, you hear?

For more “quick takes,” see Conversion Diary.

faith fridays: unchanging

Faith Fridays: Unchanging

I've had a busy three days of storytelling presentations! Which, for you dear readers, means...trolls and goats takes precedence over blog posts this duration. So in lieu of a longer post, for now, let me offer a prayer to you this day, fresh on the heels of yesterday, the feast day of St. Teresa of Avila (doctor of the Catholic Church as well as author of the prayer). It came to my attention via Maria R.S. from my Catholic writers' listserv, and is a reflection I feel lends itself to repeating, as well as absorbing, sitting on, sleeping on, and definitely sharing with others. May these thoughts help lead you toward an abandonment of anxiousness and an assurance of God's constancy in the weekend ahead! Blessings...Peace Garden Mama

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things pass away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
He who has God
Finds he lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.

writing wednesdays: blogosphere -- the narcissist's playland?

Writing Wednesdays: Blogosphere -- the Narcissist's Playland?

Recently, I thought of a great idea for my next writing post. I decided to write about the irony of the writing life: how, though we writers are generally contemplative creatures who require plenty of "percolating time" in order to do our jobs well, and how we tend to not feel entirely comfortable in the limelight, we are also required, by the nature of the writing business, to continually throw ourselves and our work out to the world.

The irony continues when we follow through with what those on the marketing end of the business advise by getting involved in social networking and other avenues for connection and promotion that can help keep our work in circulation, and then are accused of being self-absorbed. It's a difficult balance to strike, and I'll bet few writers out of there have not struggled with it at one point or another.

Lucky for me, Inkhorn Blue blogger Rosslyn, whose blog I discovered just this week, wrote about this very thing the other day. I could write my own, fresh post, but like they say, if it ain't broke... That's right. Because Rosslyn so eloquently stated so many of the pieces I'd hoped to bring out in my post, I decided to step aside and give her the mic. I hope you'll consider jumping over to her post, Everybody Point to the Narcissist. After reading it, I'd love for you to come back and share your thoughts:

Do bloggers need to take a course in humility? Or is this just the nature of the beast at work? How do readers who are not writers feel about this subject? How do writers who are also readers feel about it?

mama mondays: feminist and proud

Mama Mondays: feminist and proud

As I’ve read along this past week in my friend Donna Marie Cooper O’Boyle’s book, The Domestic Church: Room by Room, I’ve felt the kind of exhilaration one feels when coming upon the refreshing truth about something. This certainly is not a message we women are used to hearing – that in our roles as mothers, we are taking part in one of the most significant and honorable endeavors possible. But it’s an important, vital message, and I can’t help but want to share it with others since it is so not the message we typically hear, but so the one I feel we need to hear.

Throughout the reading, my mind hearkened back often to the idea of the New Feminism, a concept a friend introduced me to about a decade ago. I remember what happened as she described all it encompasses: a billion bells began going off in my head. This is it! This is what I have believed for some time now but didn’t have a name for! It was amazing to me that significant aspects of my evolving identity – ones with few points of reference in the secularized world – had been formalized by others before me. To learn I wasn’t alone in the way I felt was incredibly affirming.

At some point during my college years, I’d begun considering myself a feminist because I needed to put a name to my feeling that my worth as a woman was not being fully acknowledged by the world around me. I was becoming aware of how women are commonly objectified, and feeling quite offended by this objectification, among other imbalances. I knew it wasn’t right. I knew it wasn’t truth. I wanted to feel honored in the way men, by and large, seemed to be being honored, so it seemed logical to add feminist to my growing list of young-adult self-descriptions.

In time, though, much of the feminism to which I’d been subscribing began to feel off. I came to realize that the kind of feminism the culture presents most often required me to deny certain parts of myself, those qualities that had been with me since my earliest years of playing dolls with my sister. Despite my longtime desire to be a mother, I’d been molded in college to believe that motherhood was a substandard goal, and that true happiness would only come through embarking on a “real” career. And in order for things to ever balance out in the men-dominated work force, my presence was required out there, not in the home.

I’m not saying it was all bad. My time of being fully engaged in that outside world did allow me to hone certain skills and better understand the world in ways that would have been more difficult to discover had I not been dwelling in that sphere for a time. But I also was beginning to feel deceived, not to mention quite empty.

Then, something changed everything: motherhood.

It was shocking to me how quickly I took to it, how almost instantaneously my priorities became reordered. It was then, as a new mother, that I began to question my previously-held views of the kind of feminism the world had dished out to me, because so much of that viewpoint did not match how I was feeling inside. Still, I was left to grapple through all of this, mostly alone and with little to no support from the outside world.

It was only through living my calling of motherhood and connecting with my children in a way I had never connected with a human being before that I came to discover the New Feminism, years before I knew there was a name for it.

Which is why I was so delighted the day my friend named it for me. Unlike the old feminism, she explained, the New Feminism embraced the idea of women and men having complementary roles, with neither gender being better than the other. It perpetuated the idea that men and women, while both totally equal in dignity, possess unique characteristics that, when honored, lead to a more harmonious world.

It was a no-brainer to me at that point. Yes, I was a New Feminist, and proudly so. There was no brainwashing taking place, either; not like before. This time, it was a case of me happening up the real truth, based on the life I had come to discover as part of my most authentic calling. I didn’t have to deny any aspect of myself within New Feminism. I could fully embrace my identity as a professional and a mother and a Christian and a female. Yes, within this "movement," I could embrace my femininity. I didn't have to be ashamed of it, to hide it away. None of my best qualities, talents and strengths would be denied me in this beautiful vision. And better yet, there was no competition to be had with my husband or any other male, not to mention among the women in my life. We all had significant roles to play in keeping the world moving forward, and we needed one another to carry out this vision of how life could best be lived. It required mutual respect, cooperation and the honoring of those differing strengths each were bringing to the world, the work force and ultimately, our homes.

In her book, Donna reminds us of a quote from Blessed Teresa of Calcutta: “This is our gift as women. We have been created to be the center and the heart of the family.” In other words, within those complementary roles that we embrace as male and female, females in particular, in their relational genius, are called to play a special and crucial role as center and heart of the hearth. This is not to take away all that men bring to the same sphere, but to identify the special and dignified role that a woman has as mother and wife.

Who can deny our unique and special roles as women, as mothers? Who can deny that there are some hats that only we can wear with that special flair and vitality? Likewise, there are hats the only men wear well, and men, too, ought to be empowered in those capacities. They need to be allowed to embrace their unique but vital areas of strength. It’s not either-or. Both and all are needed.

This vision – of the complementary service men and women are to be to their families, to one another and to the world – is hugely exciting to me. It makes both logical and emotional sense, and I honestly feel anyone would be hard-pressed to argue with it if they truly took the time to understand it as it has been presented by some, including Pope John Paul II, who so expertly explained the complementary roles of man and woman, husband and wife.

If this concept is new to you, I challenge you to go to this article, where you’ll be taken to a YouTube video that explains the New Feminism much more eloquently than I have. And then, I encourage you to come back and share your thoughts.

What does the word feminism mean to you? Has your view of it changed at all as you’ve moved through your life?

faith fridays: pilgrimage revisited (up close and personal)

Faith Fridays

A week ago, I went on my first pilgrimage. It wasn’t a journey to some faraway land. It took place right here in Fargo, from one end of the city to the other. The pilgrims included an eighth-grade class as well as some chaperones and teachers, and yes, one lowly event photographer (that’d be me).

A ten-mile walk might not seem like a lot to those used to running marathons, but for me, it was quite a trek. I definitely felt it in my strained muscles the next day, though during the walk itself I was mostly unaware of how much ground we’d covered at any given point. I was too busy enjoying the experience through the lens of a camera and my five senses.

Later that day, I mustered up what energy I had left and posted some photos and a brief explanation of the day’s events. I knew I’d only skimmed the surface and that the experience deserved deeper coverage. But other worthy topics came quickly into view, and I decided that perhaps I’d said all that needed to be said about it after all.

Enter a comment from a reader who suggested that the most beneficial part of the pilgrimage probably was the exercise. The reader went on to explain that he/she has a deal with God; God leaves him/her alone, and in return, he/she “won’t trash God’s world.” In other words, he/she seemed to be questioning the purpose of the pilgrimage, not to mention whether anything edifying had resulted, save a bit of healthy exercise.

Despite the comment's challenging tone, I’m thankful for it. It gave me pause, prompting me to realize I’d not shared nearly enough about the interior journey that took place that day. As a result, I’m getting in a little closer this time, and I’ve put together a list of “Top Five Things I Gained from the Pilgrimage:”

5. A taste of sacrifice. It’s true that exercise was one of the perks of the pilgrimage, but definitely the least rather than the most beneficial of them, and perhaps not for reasons that would seem most obvious. Yes, the trek got my heart pumping and served as a gentle reminder of my lack of physical in-shape-ness. But beyond that, my aching body the following day proved to be a beautiful reminder of sacrifice, an inherent part of the pilgrim experience. My pains also were a pointed reminder of another, even bigger sacrifice carried out on my behalf; one offered so that I might live life in abundance with the assurance of forgiveness and the hope of heaven. And I didn’t even help carry the wooden cross that came along with us! Instead of regretting the walk when my body began complaining, I felt a sense of accomplishment from having started at point A and ending at point B, slightly changed from the inside out.

4. Renewed awe of the unplugged world. The small group of us who shuttled up to Holy Spirit Church, the journey’s beginning point, arrived a few minutes late. It was nothing short of soul-stirring to walk into a church at 8 a.m. to find it full of eighth-graders praying the Rosary together. I’m sure some of those students had their minds elsewhere. Some may have been checking out the cute guy or girl in front of them. Others might have been in a morning mental fog. Still others may have been wondering how long before the lunch stop. But the point is, they were praying, and whether or not we are aware of what happens when we pray, it is a transformative experience to take time out of our lives to focus on our Creator; to leave behind the electronics, breathe in the air (whether the scent of Mass candles or the smell of wet leaves) and plug into the Father, Son, Holy Spirit, as well as Mother Mary, who brought Him into our world. Walking into the middle of that scene grabbed hold of me in a profound way and was better than any cup of coffee at prompting my body, mind and soul to pay attention.

3. Revived appreciation of youth. I’m drawn to youthful energy, and who isn't, really? When a small band of walkers started singing spiritual camp songs in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Fargo, I eventually joined in as well. And as the pilgrims held up their “Honk if you love Jesus” signs and looked to each passing car with a sense of hope, then yelled out in happiness when they garnered a honk, well, I became 13 again myself for a short while. Yes, that child at my center, the child of God that is always present, was awakened in a refreshing way throughout the journey with these students.

2. Gratitude for the cause. I’ve done several news articles on the God’s Child Project, and have conversed with its founder, Patrick Atkinson, as a result of those endeavors. I’ve listened to my hair stylist talk about traveling with her family to Guatemala to be part of this effort to serve the poor, to make life easier on those whose daily struggles are beyond comparison to the majority of ours here in the United States. And I’ve read the book, The Dream Maker, by Monica Hannan, that tells Atkinson’s story. To be part of this cause of raising money for and to help create an awareness of the God’s Child Project -- especially after my multi-faceted preview of the project leading up to the pilgrimage -- was gratifying.

But the number-one gain for me...

1. (Honestly? Okay then, the raw truth...) A day with my kid. This might seem the most selfish reason for taking part, but speaking from my mother heart, this was it. And it went beyond “I’m hanging with my teen son," because it wasn't the usual hanging-out experience. I quickly became aware of the walk's spiritual effects for me personally as well as for my son. This part is harder to pin down, because it's not immediately identifiable. It's a soul thing, and it must be experienced in order to be felt. My son might not even realize the truth of it for years to come, but I know for a fact that his interior was indelibly changed because of this pilgrimage. You can't take part in something bigger than yourself, something that’s going to make someone’s life on the other side of the world better, without being transformed. And I know that is part of the reason my heart felt so light and high that day. The journey required sacrifice, including digging to the bottom of my purse to find enough change to pay for a sitter for my youngest. But I did this without hesitation, all to spend the day with (even if at a respectful distance from) my oldest child and his peers. That alone is a rare gift and reason enough to have become involved.

So, yeah, my muscles became a little more toned numb the day of the pilgrimage, but that was nothin' compared to the workout of the soul that transpired.

My blogging friend Mary (Not Strictly Spiritual) recently wrote a nice piece about pilgrimages for Our Sunday Visitor magazine. Check it out if you're interested in the topic and have a few minutes.

What sorts of extraordinary moments have you had with your children or other dear ones lately?

writing wednesdays: 'spotlight' series: introducing jody hedlund!

Writing Wednesdays:

Spotlight's on...Jody Hedlund!

I'm thrilled to be kicking off the first in a monthly series of writer-mama "Spotlight's on..." posts. Michigan mama Jody Hedlund has graciously taken time out of her busy life as a home-schooling mother of five, as well as her work as a newly emerging author, to share her insights with Peace Garden Mama.

Jody recently signed a three-book contract with Bethany House Publishers. Her first book, tentatively titled, The Preacher’s Bride, is due to release in October 2010.

As a writer of historical romances, Jody is inspired by the true stories of the great faith heroes of the past and the brides that helped make them into godly men. She also finds inspiration when she’s writing about historical people and events in her home state of Michigan.

After approximately seven years of serious writing, Jody has finally broken through the traditional publishing door and entered a new phase of her writing career—that of becoming a published author.Here's what she's got on her mind these days regarding the colorful new author hat she's adding to her collection. Reader's, I present to you, Jody Hedlund!

What does it feel like to have broken through? And what are you experiencing right now as you contemplate the future?

Right now I’m still in a state of disbelief! But I’m sure once I get my first set of rewrites from my editor, reality will smack me hard! Seriously, I’m excited about the new path ahead of me, but I also am looking at the uphill climb with a bit of apprehension. Will my friends compliment me on my writing, but secretly not be able to finish my books? Will I be able to handle the new demands of deadlines? How will I handle the marketing? All that to say, getting published is a very exciting process, but not without all the self-doubts too!

As you’re starting this new journey in your writing career, how are you rearranging your life to prepare for the next step? And how has your family responded to your new author hat?

In the past, my family viewed my writing with tolerance and at times mild annoyance. But after finaling in a fiction contest earlier in the year and acquiring an agent, their esteem of my writing began to rise. Now, especially after getting a book contract, they’ve accepted that my writing is important to me. In fact they are thrilled at my success and have been flexible with my adjustments: cooking less, cutting back on hospitality, visiting less with friends, and fewer social commitments.

Has anything surprised you about this new stage? Or have you experienced any adversity?

The biggest surprise was realizing that Bethany House saw enough potential in me that they decided to work with me. I consider myself a fairly ordinary writer. I’ve worked hard over the years to learn the craft, but I’m certainly not Pulitzer-Prize material. With a lot of tenacity and a nudge from God at the right time, I slipped through the publishing door. I want to encourage other writers that if this can happen to me, don’t lose hope that it can happen to you too.

How do you manage to write? As a mother of five children under the age of 12, when do you find the time?

This is often one of the first questions people ask me! Grocery lines, waiting rooms, restaurants—I’m always getting THE question: Five children? (Gasp!) How do you handle so many? Now I get: How do you handle five children AND have a writing career? My answer is the same for both questions: God’s grace is sufficient. With each child he’s given me and with each new step of my writing journey, he stretches me to grow in character. Through mothering and through writing I’ve learned patience, tolerance, perseverance, and much more than I could ever list. Most importantly, my heart has expanded to hold more love than I ever believed possible.

What’s the driving force behind what you do?

I squeak in the time to write whenever I can—early mornings, afternoon rest time, late evenings, and weekends. I have a self-disciplined personality, which helps. But what drives me the most is the desire to tell a story. I love the ability to lose myself in another time and place, to hope and love, and then to share that with others. I pray that my books and my writing journey inspire others to reach for their dreams too.
Thanks so much for coming by, Jody, and for sharing your insights with us. If you readers have any questions for Jody, leave them in the comments box. You can also stop by Jody's blog, On The Path: One Pilgrim's Progress To Publication, for more of an in-depth look at Jody's journey.

The first Wednesday of November, Peace Garden Mama will highlight Lisa Moser, proud author of a new children's book (her fourth), Kisses on the Wind. Stop by again then, if not before!

speaking of school uniforms...

Earlier today, I shared my column about school uniforms that was published today as part of The Forum's Tuesday "Parenting Perspectives" feature. Sometimes, pictures really do speak louder than words!

So, what do you think? Thumbs up or down for school uniforms?

forum column (october 09): school uniforms - the case for conformity

Published October 06 2009

Parenting Perspectives: School uniforms serve as moms’ case for conformity

By: Roxane B. Salonen

Ever since we’ve been involved in parochial schools, I’ve braced myself for the likelihood that one of our kids might rise up someday against the school dress code.

I was caught off guard the day it finally happened, however.

Throughout the past eight years, our school-aged children have, for the most part, dutifully donned their red, blue or white polo shirts each school morning and tucked them expertly into tan or black Dockers with minimal grumbling.

When our oldest son was in kindergarten, I kept expecting him to come home from school and quickly shred his uniform for something more in sync with the rest of the neighborhood. But he didn’t give a hoot that he was the only child within a 10-block radius who looked freshly delivered from Sunday school.

This year, however, the dam finally broke within our family.

The rest of the kids and I were waiting in the van in the school parking lot one recent afternoon, anxiously eyeing the clock and school doors. We had zero minutes to get to a tennis match and couldn’t imagine where child No. 5 might be.

Twenty aggravating minutes later, she emerged from the building with her friend, both of them clad in jeans and fashionable shirts.

Noting the unusual bulge in my daughter’s book bag, I realized the deed had been premeditated. Too bad they chose this day to pull off the Great American Parochial School Uniform Protest.

They really hadn’t broken any rules. It’s just that the surprise “Changing of the Guard” had produced unfortunate consequences for others within our family.

Even as my eyebrows furrowed, my inner child giggled quietly at the denim-clad girl walking proudly toward the van. Far be it from me to argue against individuality. I’m a little sister, too, after all.

But I’ll also argue that conformity isn’t always a bad thing.

Here’s a little secret: Most of us moms love school uniforms. We love that we don’t have to agonize over appropriate hip and skirt lines, straps and buckles. “Check the school handbook,” we retort at the first whimper of a protest, relieved to have official backing.

I’m also a huge fan of the unifying factor of school uniforms. While some kids might insist on sifting and sorting through whether those Dockers came from The Gap or Kmart, by and large, the sameness in uniforms keeps things fairly even and quite economical.

We also have non-uniform days – true celebrations at our school – as well as other ways to express individuality.

Without some amount of conformity, our world would fall into chaos. And I think it’s healthy for our kids to learn rules are important and most often exist not to restrict us unfairly but to protect us.

Despite my daughter’s quiet protests, I’m sold on the dress code. I’m hoping that by focusing less on their exteriors, my children and their peers might pay closer attention to their interiors – those parts of themselves that are vibrantly fashioned and unique beyond measure.

Salonen works as a freelance writer and children’s author in Fargo, where she and her husband, Troy, are the parents of five children. She also has a blog at www.areavoices.com/peacegarden and www.roxanesalonen.blogspot.com

mama mondays: sidelines mama

Mama Mondays

This weekend, my daughter celebrated her 12th birthday with a group of her friends at our home. She’d been planning it for months, down to the finest detail. A few of those details had to be scrapped, but the majority of them were played out on the big day. By all accounts, the celebration was a success. Everyone seemed to have genuine smiles on their faces pretty much the whole time. The girls, most of them well-acquainted, collided like a bunch of giddy sisters. Awkward moments seemed nonexistent as they babbled amongst themselves through the various activities – from the bobbing-for-apples, to the piñata-smack session, to the caramel-wrapping-on-apples activity, to the musical gift-opening, to the spontaneous limbo and “truth or dare” games, to the final station downstairs singing karaoke. It was three hours’ worth of one constant stream of chatter and giggles.

And where was I during all of this? On the sidelines at a quiet, respectful distance; the place to which I seem to be being relegated more and more with each passing year of motherhood.

The same was true of my son’s eighth-grade class pilgrimage Friday. I was there alright, visibly so as the group photographer, but even in that role I flitted along the periphery of the group, on the outside more than in. I came set on a twofold mission – to take photos for the teacher leading the pilgrimage and hang out with my kid for the day.

My older children have made it clear what part I am to play in their lives at this juncture. I practically had to sign a legal contract with my son in order to go on the pilgrimage. “No photos of me, Mom, you have to promise,” he said beforehand. I did my best to honor this, though I think I might have caught just a bit of his sneaker dipping into a mud puddle in one of the shots.

The thing is, I remember too much about my own childhood for any of this to faze me. I remember how horrified I was to be seen by my parents while out in public most of my junior- and senior-high years of school. If any of my peers saw me with my parents, they might draw the conclusion that I’d actually come to be through these alien beings with which I was trying so hard to disassociate. But I also remember what it was like when my father came to my track meets, how it felt to hear his powerful voice cheering me on. I remember, too, the comfortable feeling of having a mother who worked in the same school where I spent most of my days. She wasn’t right in the middle of my sphere, but she was always there if a desperate moment called for it.

The extent of our presence in our children’s lives changes in quantity as they grow. Oftentimes, their physical needs are not nearly so daunting when they’re older as when they were younger. For example, my daughter had made out her activity list and sent out the invites well before I got directly involved in her party. Sure, I stepped in at some point, but for the most part, I can honestly say she ran the show. And yet...I also sensed she needed me around. I sensed that if not for me, she would not have had such a huge smile on her face, would not have been giggling so loudly. I was the person who was relied upon to run the stereo for the musical gifts and summoned when it was time for the Sloppy Joes to be doled out. At one point, I left the party area for a while and let the party go on in my absence. In time, I was called back, as I knew I would be.

I’m still the anchor, even if with a less striking presence than in years past. I know this because at one point during her party, my daughter looked at me and sneaked in a quiet but sincere, “Thanks, Mom.” That's all it took for me to know that even though it's so much about her these days and oftentimes, I seem the afterthought at best, appearances are deceiving.

One of the blessings of having a large family is there are fewer opportunities to be overly wistful. If there might be any temptation to feel let down about being relegated to the sidelines with my older kids, I’ve still got my 4-, 6- and 9-year-old kids on the other end. For the most part, I’m still a “center stage” mom to them, and in that way, I’m not even close to fading away anytime soon.

Whether I’m playing my sidelines-mom role or throwing on my center-stage mom hat, I feel certain about my purpose within this family. Along with my husband, I am an essential half of the big old bottle of glue that keeps our family intact, spiritually, physically and emotionally. Even as my presence begins to wane in apparent vibrancy, I know that all is well. I know that it means those pieces of myself I’ve been offering my children all this time are now becoming infused into who they are. The more I get out of the way, the more they can be who they are meant to be. That’s not the worst thing in the world. It’s one of our primary goals as parents – to help our kids find their wings.

My children may no longer be hoisted onto my hip, but we’re still very much attached. I’ll happily assume my position on the sidelines while gently letting my children know that even if they’re inclined to disown me over the next few years, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. They can count on that.

Have you reached the sidelines stage of your parenting yet? If so, how have you transitioned from a more intense physical role to one requiring more of an emotional investment?

saturday evening post (a meme)

I'm joining in on the fun over at Elizabeth Esther's blog, Kids, Twins and Laundry Bins. The first Saturday of the month, Elizabeth plays host to this meme, which allows bloggers to share one of their favorite posts from the previous month. I chose "The achievement trap." To see all the offerings, check out Elizabeth Esther. If you're a blogger, feel free to add your favorite post.

Happy Saturday!

faith fridays: pilgrimage for god's child project

Faith Fridays

Despite rain at the journey's beginning, our school's eighth-grade pilgrimage to benefit the God's Child Project came to pass today.

The kids raised around $5,000 to benefit the program, founded by Bismarck, ND, native, Patrick Atkinson. Atkinson has sacrificed a comfortable American existence to pour his life's energy into the poverty-stricken people of Guatemala and other areas, and in more recent years, has come to be passionate about eliminating the sad reality of human trafficking that is unfortunately all too common in some parts of the world. If you have a heart for those less fortunate and would like to give monetarily to an organization that is sure to put it to good use, find out more about the God's Child Project here.

According to Mapquest, the journey from Holy Spirit Church in North Fargo to Sts. Anne & Joachim Church in South Fargo encompasses about ten miles. The pilgrimage began with a recitation of the Rosary at Holy Spirit, then continued onward to Downtown Fargo, where the kids visited 1100 The Flag radio station with Scott Hennen (and even got a little air time).

The kids had a lot of energy and seemed to be enjoying holding up their "Honk if you love Jesus" signs and whooping when they got the desired response.

They took turns carrying the cross, uniting themselves with Christ's suffering.

The next stop was St. Anthony of Padua Church, where, after another Rosary, everyone enjoyed a reprieve from the walking and a little lunch provided by some of the students' moms. Then, it was time to continue onward.

Next stop: Church of the Nativity, where the pilgrims were met with gleeful squeals of some of the elementary students at the school which shares the facility. Another Rosary was prayed, and then the longest stretch of the journey began, prompting another break -- apples and waters inside a gazebo.

Fall was evident everywhere along the way.

Finally, the home stretch, where Mass took place at the journey's conclusion.

It was a blessed day!

Have you ever gone on a pilgrimage, and if so, to where?