lent 2010: to spend time with the dying

"Community," a circle of love, St. Benedict's Monastery, Minnesota

Shortly after writing this post, I will leave my spot to head to the palliative care unit of the hospital, where I will enter the space of a dying man; a man who entered this world about eight months after I did; a man named Ryan.

Leave it to Ryan, someone who possessed a rock-solid faith, to enter into the final phase of life the same week we commemorate the death of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

We are nearing the end of Lent, and death is coming in just a matter of days, they say.

Just hours ago I received word that Ryan is letting go of this world after a significant battle with brain cancer. His breathing has changed. His tumor has grown. His body is failing him and there is nothing humanly possible anyone can do to change the course of things. All we can do now is wait with him and pray for grace.

Ryan: husband of one lovely wife and father of three young and lively children. In many ways, his life had just begun. And yet, his beloved, Lori, reports at this hour that “he’s at peace with the situation and knows that God is in control.” She’s requested round-the-clock Rosaries for Ryan in these final days to offer him strength and courage to endure what’s ahead.

This morning, I began to flesh out what I’d write for my final post before Good Friday. I'd settled on the subject of grace and begun mapping it out in my mind. But things have changed. Grace will enter in, but not in the way I had imagined. The grace I will write about is much more real than anything I might have been able to recall just hours ago.

I have many thoughts racing through my head.

The first is what a privilege it is to spend time with the dying. There is no place I’d rather be tonight than near Ryan as he prepares to move into the hereafter. This isn’t to say I’m happy with this turn of events; not at all. But I’ve been here before. I’ve sat with other dear ones in their final days and I count those moments as among the most profound of my life. Think about it: Ryan soon will be where all faithful aspire to go. He’s beaten us to the punch. Soon he will know all and be transformed from mere mortal to eternal being. There will be no more cancer, no more questions, only Love.

The veil that separates this world from the next has become thinner in our corner of the world. For Ryan, there is no turning back. For the rest of us, it is an opportunity to grieve, and learn. Ryan is presenting a gift to us now, helping us glimpse one more piece of the puzzle of life and focus on what we need to do to prepare ourselves for the next phase of our journey.

Ryan seems prepared. He has had the chance to experience an amazing outpouring of love of family and community over the last months. He has leaned hard on his faith to make sense of why he must go now, of all times, when his wife and children seem in such need of his fatherly strength. Listening to Lori’s updates over the past months has been an incredible experience and a beautiful lesson in the amazing power of grace.

Grace is obviously what is carrying her now and why, earlier today, as Ryan’s co-worker said goodbye, it was Lori who offered her comfort.

Grace carries us when we cannot carry ourselves. It is God’s breath of life infused into us to keep us moving through situations that otherwise would prove impossible.

Today during my faith-sharing group meeting, we discussed Jesus’ death. I talked about how, when my friend Laura was dying, my beliefs suddenly became so much more urgent. More than ever, I realized, I needed to count on everything I had believed all the years leading up to her dying as being unequivocally true. I could not face the possibility that we, the faithful, might be wrong about life after death, for that would mean darkness for Laura and the rest of us. I could not accept that possibility.

When it counts most, do I believe? Or does faith fall flat on its face? There’s no hemming and hawing now. It’s one or the other: death or life. Which will it be?

I’ve been given the gift of faith, and despite fleeting doubts, I always come back to life and light. But what of those who have not accepted or been offered this same gift? How do they cope with and make sense of death? Is it possible to truly settle on this life being all there is?

The curtain falls, and there is no encore. Everything grows still, and then...nothing.

No. No! This is not what I know; not just what I believe to be true but what I KNOW to be true. There is an encore, and it is not finite. It is LOVE and LIFE and LIGHT eternal.

Tonight, I will share sacred space with a friend who is almost there. It is a privilege, though I know I will weep. And yes, I’m a little scared to face what I’m about to face. Being with the dying is an overwhelming experience. I don’t take this lightly at all. But I’m convinced Ryan has something more to teach me, and I’m open to learning whatever it is.

And if, in return, I can say one thing, whisper one prayer, that will help him successfully cross over, I know I will be meeting up with grace once again.

lent 2010: confessions of a well-intending mother

I’ll try to paint the scene as accurately as possible.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and one small Salonen child asked, “Mom, you know where any tape is?”

My motherly instincts should have kicked in at that outset. But, distracted by some other task, I let the moment pass without much fanfare. “No, not sure, Hon,” I said in full honesty. Tape disappears around this place as quickly as kids being summoned to do their chores. Last time I knew the whereabouts of a roll was in December during gift-wrapping time.

I didn’t think about the tape again, nor imagine what said child might have wanted it for, until hours later when avoidance was no longer possible. I walked into my office to find this upon the wall near my computer:

Aha! The tape. So that’s what he wanted it for.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and it is, and was, for me anyway. But in case anyone else should miss the messages here, I’ll spell them out for clarification sake:

1. The artist child responsible for this creation is one of many children, probably the youngest.
2. The child has watched his mother tape up, tack up and pin up many a creative piece fashioned by his siblings through the years.
3. The child wonders why the pictures he makes at Kids Kingdom or his Gearing Up for Kindergarten class are not displayed the minute they are deemed finished.
4. The mother in question cannot possibly keep up with all the pictures that deserve fair attention on the fridge and walls. She knows she’s been falling behind lately, because her youngest child asks, after completing a creation, “You gonna put it on the fridge now, Mom?”
5. This piece says something about the van in which the mother resides a large portion of her life; how it is filled with an unrelenting stream of mail, school papers, winter gear, and other paraphernalia that needs to be sorted through, and how easily any given piece of artwork can slip through the cracks.
6. The artist child is independent. He has learned this, in part, through living in a family of seven people. The rest is genetics. By nature, he’s the kind of person who will get the job done if someone else (Ahem!) falls behind.
7. The artist child wants to please his mother. Knowing this, his mother’s heart melts.
8. Even though the above scenario could be an example of failure, the mother treasures it for what it is. The moment she sees the haphazardly taped-up art, and considers the drastic measures her young child undertook to make sure it was displayed in a place she would see it, she considers it to be the most blessed moment of her week.
9. The mother is also rather in awe over how capable her youngest child is becoming. She wishes she could have been a fly on the wall as he carried out his Operation Picture Display.
10. The mother knows that someday her child won’t care as much whether his artwork is noticed and she’s intent on taking better advantage of this time when it still matters.

Well, that’s what I read, anyway.

And then, on Friday, our middle child had her science fair at her school gym. I’d written the event down on the calendar but promptly forgot to check my “to do” list that afternoon. At the appointed time, instead of being on the scene to view the results (she’d worked on her project at a friend’s house so I didn't have a chance to see any phase of its creation), I was at home.

“So, Mom,” she said when I picked her up from school that day, “how come you never showed up?”

Oops! Again.

The only solace I can take from this is: 1) my daughter didn’t seem that disappointed I missed the science fair (I was more disappointed than she), 2) the school will repeat this display in May at a local college so I’ll get a second chance, and 3) at the time of the science fair, I was reading books to my youngest, as opposed to eating bon-bons and watching afternoon soaps.

That said, a new commitment to pinning up artwork sooner rather than later has been made (especially for the sake of my youngest). And on my calendar, the date and time of the second-chance science fair has been highlighted.

Thank the good Lord for second chances, forgiving children and one tenacious almost-5-year-old, who is not afraid to take the initiative when his mother lags behind in her motherly responsibilities.

Things do have a way of working out in the end, and Plan B’s can turn out to be perfectly acceptable solutions.

lent 2010: prayer

“Often during the day, even while outwardly engaged in conversations and business with others, remember to retire to the solitude of your heart to be with God. This mental solitude cannot be in any way impeded, even if many people stand about you, since they surround, not your heart, but only your body. Your heart remains alone in the presence of God.” -- St. Francis de Sales

Prayer, almsgiving and fasting: the three main ingredients for a successful Lent. As the days of this season wane, I’m already beginning to look back, to take an account of my failures and successes, and I would say that the greatest success for me has come in the area of prayer.

For the last several years of Lent, I’ve committed myself to carving out an hour of time each week to visit our church’s Eucharistic Adoration chapel. Typically, the hour falls on the evening I am out of the house working on writing projects. Around midnight, I close my laptop and head south to my church, where I join the other late-night Adorers at the feet of Jesus.

I can honestly say that this Lenten commitment has become my favorite hour of the week. Sitting in silence in a quiet chapel at midnight, talking to Jesus, has been one of the most profound experiences of my faith journey. I’ve discovered in this routine how thirsty I am for silence, how desperately my heart longs to be stilled. And it is in that silence I am able to begin to hear more clearly the dialogue that has been in progress throughout the week: my ongoing conversation with God.

It's common knowledge that in order to have a truly vital relationship, time and attention must be given to that relationship or it will wither. Take the marital relationship. Like most couples, my husband and I go through most days of our busy weeks focusing on the logistics of our job as parents and other obligations. We communicate in snippets: a quick phone call here, a short conversation there, moving along as best we can. But at some point, usually during the weekend, we find the need to come together and really talk, to sort through whatever big things might need addressing, to air the heavier thoughts. Sometimes it takes a date night to really get at the bigger issues life brings. And what a difference this kind of quality time makes! In fact, weeks when we don’t take time to nourish our relationship, a dramatic moment typically erupts that forces us to “stop the world.” We become weighted down by unresolved issues, big or small, and eventually they demand our attention until we have no choice but to either face them, or the unfortunate consequences of our lapse.

My time in Adoration every week is like a date night with God. It is my time to air the big stuff, to take all the prayer requests I’ve gotten over the week and lay them at God’s feet, and then to just listen. Some might think it would be difficult to sit still for an hour in silence, that the time would pass slowly and be boring. Au, contraire! The time flies quickly past, and when it’s time to leave, I always feel filled up and much more prepared than when I entered to tackle whatever life has in store. I walk out into the night with a smile on my face and a fullness in my heart.

God doesn’t expect that we busy parents set aside an hour a day to focus intently on Him. In fact, the hour I spend in the Adoration chapel is something of a luxury, and would have been even more so several years back when I was still a nursing mother. There are times in our lives when this kind of focused attention is possible, and other times when we have to make do with snippets. However we manage to talk to God, He’s always listening, and always ready to whisper words of love to us if we can still ourselves long enough to listen for His response. In order to have the richest prayer life possible, we need to consider where we’re at in our lives and not expect the impossible, but also to be open to new ways of conversing with God.

I’ve been collecting prayer quotes since before Lent and hope that something here will hearten and inspire you in these last days of Lent. It’s never too late to start a meaningful dialogue with God, even if you feel you’ve fallen short until now. He’s as patient as they come, and ready to hear from you, as well as to whisper back.

"Pray with your whole being even though you think it has no savor for you. For such prayer is very profitable even though you feel nothing, though you see nothing, even though it seems impossible to you. It is in dryness and barrenness, in sickness and feebleness that your prayer is most pleasing to me, even though you think that it has little savor for you." -- Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love

"Pray simply. Do not expect to find in your heart any remarkable gift of prayer. Consider yourself unworthy of it. Then you will find peace. Use the empty cold dryness of your prayer as food for your humility. Repeat constantly: I am not worthy; Lord, I am not worthy! But say it calmly, without agitation." -- St. Macarius of Optina

Many are satisfied with carrying the Lord on their tongue, recounting His marvels and praising Him with great ardor; others carry Him in their hearts with tender and loving affection, which becomes part and parcel of their lives, thinking of Him and speaking to Him. But these two ways of carrying the Lord do not amount to much if the third element of carrying Him in their arms by good works is missing. -- St. Francis de Sales

“If you pray well you will live well, if you live well you will die well, if you die well, all will be well.” (Unknown source)

flood 2010: our sunday river walk (pictorial)

The following photos capture pieces of our family's river walk this past Sunday, the day the Red River crested. Though the crest came in lower than predicted, this year's flood was still the seventh worst in our area's history. My only regret about the photos themselves is that our middle child is not in them. She was working on a project for this Friday's science fair.

It was a beautiful day -- a true SUNday. Spirits were high and vibrant due to a favorable outcome of weather and some happy signs of spring. I hope you'll enjoy our river walk...

Earthen dike built to protect the city. The river seemed almost eye level as I approached -- much higher than the norm!

Approaching the main section of the Veterans Memorial Bridge that connects Moorhead, MN, to Fargo, ND

Our first good view of the rushing waters and their alarming height

Nick checking out the wider scene with Daddy

Streetlights...

And stop signs (can you see it there??)

See how close the water is to the bottom of the bridge? There should be MUCH more space there. Yikes!

The stairway to nowhere...(supposed to be dry ground at the bottom)

Nick gaining control of the Red River through touching a ground tile depicting it.

Nick up to his antics...

Afternoon Sunday shadows

Tired old pump hoping to retire

forum column 2010: eggs into omelets

Parenting Perspectives: Eggs' powers go beyond omelets

By: Roxane B. Salonen, The Forum

Eggs, shredded cheese, ham and a splash of milk formed the base. From there, my teen son created a delicious, golden half-moon omelet.

Though I’d like to boast that my fine teaching skills led to him becoming a veritable omelet king, hunger pangs played the initiator role. He took it from there, and his cooking served as a turning point in our relationship.

Until the day he first began whipping up those edible works of art, it seemed my son’s sole purpose was clashing with me. The hours of our emotional entanglement were adding up, and neither of us could see a way out.

Enter the omelet and its transformative capacity.

I sensed my encouragement of this endeavor would be counted as one success in my life as a parent. But, until recently, I didn’t understand just how significant it was.

Then I heard parenting coach Tina Feigal talk on the Nurtured Heart Approach, geared toward parenting “the challenging child.”

Feigal explained that the heart is responsive to emotional input, and as parents, we “download” either positive or negative messages into our children’s hearts. These messages form neuropathways to their brains that shape them.

Think of the babies in orphanages whose basic needs have been met but due to lack of being held fail to thrive and eventually die.

Our kids are dying to connect with us, to feel useful and loved. And even when we feel hopeless in certain parenting situations, we can effect positive change.

It’s all about learning to give energy to behaviors we want to see and not giving any to those we don’t, Feigal said.

Redirecting negative family dynamics is first laid out through family meetings, in which each member contributes. The gatherings help create a family identity and sense of belonging.

“At our workplace, we get together on a regular basis for staff meetings,” Feigal said. “Then we get frustrated when things don’t go well at home, but we’ve forgotten to get the players together to make a plan.”

Our objective is to help nurture desirable behaviors as opposed to stopping undesirable ones.

Not long after discovering my son’s skill, we went shopping and splurged on omelet ingredients. I agreed to contribute the hash browns if he’d focus on the main entrée.

That night, with the precision of a gourmet chef, my eldest expertly prepared an omelet for each family member – seven in all – tailor-made to our tastes.

All it took for him to thrive in that setting were the right tools and ingredients. All it took for me to help was seeing beyond the pile of broken egg shells in the sink and into the success of each turn of a rubber spatula.

Roxane B. Salonen works as a freelance writer and children’s author in Fargo, where she and her husband, Troy, are the parents of five children.

lent 2010: a mother's conversation with God

Nick: “Mom, I think I’m 4 and a penny.”

(Pause...trying to figure out what he’s talking about....until suddenly, the Aha! moment...)

Me: “Um, no, you were 4 and a quarter, but now you’re actually closer to 4 and three quarters."

Nick: "Oh."

March 21, 2010

Dear God,

I just wanted you to know...I’m listening. I’m sure it doesn’t seem like it at times, but I am. More often than not, in my busy life as a wife and mother, I forget to make this dialogue more obvious. That’s one of the reasons I’ve decided to bring my thoughts here. Perhaps when I see them written out, our conversation will become more real somehow, and maybe they’ll even help someone else. Lord knows (you know, that is) that you really don’t need to see all of this in black and white. You know every thought in my head before it is uttered, and even if it never is. But maybe I need to see it. After all, I can’t see you, so maybe having something tangible before me will help our connection stay vital – for my sake. You gave me the gift and love of writing, after all. So, thanks for understanding, and for always listening, even when I’m unaware or not listening as attentively back.

Lent has been so good for me. I’m so thankful for the quiet that has resulted. The turn inward has brought fruits that could not have happened otherwise. What would we do without this season of pulling back, of inner reflection? I’m so appreciative of this, especially given how we are so often lured in so many different directions. The chance to focus has been so helpful to me, and I don’t know that I would have taken the time on my own accord.

I just have to say, you always amaze me by your diligence in reaching me. Your voice comes through so many different channels, not the least of them my conversations with friends. For example, a few days back, when my friend C. talked about her daughter turning 5, and how she was going to miss their morning mommy-daughter ritual come fall, I couldn’t help but think of my time with Nick and how quickly it is dissipating. In fact, we’re just months away from the Big Change. Until now, I’ve been so focused on how things will transition in August when he enters kindergarten, but I think you’ve been nudging me to see that it’s going to happen much more quickly. In just a few short months, school will be done for the year, and my special time with him will come to an abrupt end. I will never again have this time with him in quite this same way. You’ve probably been trying to tell me this for a while now: Slow down. Appreciate this time. Don’t forget to play, to enjoy this time with your youngest, to appreciate what a gift it is.

So, I've finally heard, and in the next couple months I’m going to try hard to remember what you’ve been trying to tell me. I’m going to play a little more and spend less time worrying about what’s ahead and just live in the present, as Nick himself does. I can’t completely let go of all that is on my mind, things I must do that are necessary in the coming weeks, but...I do think I’m up to bringing some balance to it all, of being more mindful of the preciousness of my relationship with my youngest, and how quickly our time together is drawing to an end. He has no awareness of the bigger picture. He’s just plugging along on the course of his young life. I know this slow-down is a little for his benefit, but much more for mine. And I believe that within those moments I hope to carve out with him, I will have more chances to hear your wise voice. It seem a win-win, doesn't it God?

I’d better close for now, but before I go, I just wanted to say thanks for the sun, and for the change in momentum of the Red River. I know that some in our area are still concerned, or have had to deal with the adverse affects of high waters, but for the most part, it seems, we’re going to be spared another widespread catastrophe. I appreciate the chance to take a breath and not worry about whether we need to fight or take flight. I’ll try to make good on this chance to not have our lives so up in the air.

Alright...enough for now. Troy’s talking about taking the kids on a drive to peek at the river. I think it’s a good idea – they need to get out of the house anyway. And I know you won’t mind if I sign off now. It’s never goodbye with you anyway, is it God? Come to think of it, that’s a profound thought. You’re so amazing God, just for the simple fact that you would leave me with that.

So, I’ll see you around, ok? Sooner rather than later, thanks be to you.

With love,

Roxane

P.S. As you know, it’s Camille’s birthday. Thanks for dropping us into each others' lives all those years ago. I can't imagine my life without my big sister!

Our River Walk, March 21, 2010

lent 2010: humility

“What makes humility so desirable is the marvelous thing it does to us; it creates in us a capacity for the closest possible intimacy with God.” – Monica Baldwin

Our new church contains many symbolic pieces. One of the first to appear as you enter the sanctuary is a floor tile bearing the image of a donkey and the word HUMILITY. What a perfect animal to represent this word. After all, it was upon the back of a simple donkey that Mary and Joseph rode to Bethlehem to bring Jesus into the world.

Humility has been categorized as one of “the seven heavenly virtues.” Conversely, its opposing vice – pride – has been named one of “the seven deadly sins.”

I have, in times past especially, been confused over what each of these means. For years I didn’t understand why something that seemed as benign as pride (at least in the way I was thinking about it – feeling rightly pleased with one’s accomplishments and progress, for example) could be deadly. But as I’ve grown in my faith, I’ve come to better understand why pride can be so incredibly damaging to the soul, and how, without humility, the soul withers.

It’s important to recognize the difference between true humility and false humility. False humility has been defined as “the deprecation of one’s sanctity, gifts, talents and accomplishments for the sake of receiving praise or adulation from others.” (Who among us has not done this, even if we weren’t entirely aware of our intent?) Conversely, legitimate humility results in submission to God and legitimate authority, and recognition of the virtues and talents of others, as well as recognition of the limits of our own talents and abilities.

In other words, humility helps us know our place, but in a way that allows us to flourish within that space, given our particular talents and gifts, and to not extend our reach beyond where it was meant to go.

Despite what we might sometimes believe, true humility does not suppress us, it frees us. How can God fill us up with light and love if we’re already full? If God is God, He sees much further than we possibly can; therefore, He knows better what we need to be filled up with in order to be our best selves. We must, therefore, be empty enough to make room for God’s beautiful plan for us.

And I don’t mean empty of energy or resources. We need those to do God’s will. But we also need to reserve some space within ourselves to make room for God’s grace. When we are filled with pride, when we are deluded into thinking we control our lives and that everything we have has come entirely from our own actions, there are few spaces within us into which God can enter. Lack of humility or excessive pride leads to death of the soul as God becomes edged out.

If we’re really honest with ourselves, we realize every breath we take is truly a gift from God! If we begin on our knees, the only direction to go is up.

But oh, it can be so hard to humble ourselves. Our culture trains us toward pride. We are conditioned to believe we are self-made individuals, not in need of God. And though we are attracted to true humility (think Blessed Teresa of Calcutta), humility is not highly prized within our society. We tend to look down upon humility, while humility itself always looks upward from below.

“Be like violets,” St. Gaetano used to say, as mentioned in the book, My Cousin the Saint. “The violet is a flower that does not stand tall. Its petals face downward. It hides beneath the leaves. But it gives off a delightful scent.” St. Gaetano also was known to say often that “A grain of pride can destroy a mountain of sanctity."

Novelist John Buchan phrased it richly when he said, “Without humility, there can be no humanity.”

And contemporary Christian recording artist Bebo Norman expressed it rather poetically when he sang, “You become clear as I disappear.”

Lord, help me to stay empty enough so that those who see me see You.

lent 2010: surrender

Red River, Spring 2009

"The Lord tenderly loves those who have the happiness of abandoning themselves totally to the fatherly care of Divine Providence. They do no stop to consider if it is advantageous or not to their own interests. Let us be convinced that the fatherly heart of God will never allow anything that is not for our greater good." (Sermons 29; O. IX, p. 284)

[From Everyday with St. Francis de Sales, edited by Rev. Francis J. Klauder]

You’d think we’d be used to this by now – the urgent calls for sandbag filling, the sight of the earth splattered haphazardly on paved roads as dikes are constructed, the sounds of sirens and sights of police vehicles escorting flatbed semis stacked with sandbags -- yellow, orange and white -- on their way to flood-threatened neighborhoods. We’ve been here before, after all.

It’s been interesting to observe our slow awakening regarding the latest spring flood threat here in the Red River Valley. Typically, after a flood of historic proportions, a reprieve settles in. Years go by without another such event – years that allow time to plan and prepare to avoid the possibility of being caught, again, like sitting ducks.

I wouldn’t say lethargy or even apathy caused such a slow awakening. Instead, we’d only begun to recover from last year’s flooding episode when the possibility of another came in view. The human mind and heart can only take in so much. One intense event after another has been tough to adjust to; many simply could not “go there” until the imminent likelihood of another flood was in our faces.

And so we find ourselves here again, earlier than anticipated, on the edge of something troubling. We have a growing-by-the-hour awareness that the river is hungry and seems intent on swallowing us whole. Time is not on our side – predictions changed too quickly. We are at the wild whim of Mother Nature.

So in the context of this, what does surrender mean? Certainly, it doesn’t mean we sit back and wait it out. It means we stay attentive to the news, make plans, roll up our sleeves, prepare our children for what could happen and assure them of our presence and protection.

In such times, when our well-being is at risk, surrender is a difficult word to wrap our brains around. We are in fight or flight mode. How does one surrender while in motion?

In the last couple days, I have felt low in energy. I feel as though I am saving up for whatever is to come. Outside, it is gray and wet and muddy. Once again, it feels like we will not be allowed to revel in the coming spring, because spring has arrived holding hands with the annoying new kid, who wears an ominous cloak of black.

But through all this, I do not feel despair. I am positioning myself to take some kind of action, to haul the lower level of our home upstairs again, to lend my arms to pile sandbags if necessary, to bring the kids to safe harbor if it comes to that.

I will do what I must and give it whatever I have. And then, when the time is right, I’ll take a look around and assess God’s loving hand in all of this, and how and whether He plans to use me through it.

I aim to be a vessel, to be used to bring His light to others in whatever way He wills it, even now.

I'm close, I think, to understanding what surrender really means. Now, to have the courage to follow through.

lent 2010: mama monday minis

Lent 2010: Mama Monday Minis

Covert Operations 2010

* Leprechaun Hunt: I've caught the kids in the middle of some serious business lately, and though I'm mostly exempt from these adventures, I've learned just enough from the sidelines to tell you that they've been busy searching for leprechauns. The scene, from my view, looks/sounds something like this:

"Beth, you weh-dee?" It's Nick, 4, donning his raincoat and boots.

"Yep, I'm coming," yells his 9-year-old sister, grabbing her usual outdoor attire, along with an extra piece of "equipment," a special hat that is essential for the task ahead.

I catch her eyes on the way out the door. "We're searching for leprechauns," she whispers, looking at me with a knowing gleam.

"Alright, well, be careful. You never know -- you might just find one," I say.

A little while later, the front door opens and a winded Nick finds me. "Mom, the lepwuhchauns painted a wainbow on the woad, so they must want us to find 'em, right?!”

Okay, so, maybe the rainbow is just an oil spill from a vehicle.

Or, is it?

Whose gonna argue with this guy -- a guy whose middle name is Patrick? Not I, milad. Not I.

* Treasures from the Backpack: Sometimes, as I'm going through my quick backpack clean-out of the kids' school junk, something pops out at me that changes my mid-afternoon funk. This week, it was a "Kindformer" note -- a form that had been filled out by a classmate of my daughter's naming the kind act she'd been caught doing: "Let someone else pass out papers," read one. Another one fell out from under that one, also naming a kind act carried out by said daughter: "She said 'Bless You' when I sneezed." And then I found another, this one from my daughter to a teacher: "Dear Mrs. D, you are the person that everyone in the school turns to when they are hurt. Thank you so much for all of your hard work. You are cool...just like the ice packs you give us!" Finally, a little booklet turned up; a booklet called "One Caring Kid: A Booklet About YOU -- and What Your Kindness Can Do!"

So there are still forces in the world who feed our children good, edifying thoughts. This...is a really wonderful thing to realize midday, when everything feels on the drab, despairing side.

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” -- Aesop

* Weaker than Jesus. Public confession time. My friend, Cheryl, was in town from Hawaii this weekend. Well, she didn't fly in from Hawaii just to visit me in Fargo. She flew into Minnesota, where she had been invited to give an academic presentation at St. Benedict's College. Then she and her friend Julie went on a road trip to Fargo to take in the sights here. We had a lovely lunch downtown. And then, intent on showing them some of my favorite places, I brought them to Nichole's, the French pastry shop where I had been with another friend for a business lunch the day before.

Let's just say I should not have gone into the place once during Lent, not to mention twice.

Back up a few weeks to when my daughter was getting ready to go to a birthday party and had expressed concern about how she'd handled the cake-eating part of the event. She, too, had given up desserts for Lent but wondered if she could make an exception that day, feeling that celebrating with her friend might be more important than denying herself. I told her that in this case, she should go ahead and enjoy the party (including the cake) with her friend. I guess I used this same reasoning while with my friends this weekend, knowing my chances of ever again enjoying a chocolate torte with Cheryl Downtown Fargo are next to nothing. So, yeah, bottom line, I blew it.

Cheryl and Julie in front of Nichole's

Thankfully, God doesn't give up on us as easily as we sometimes give up on ourselves, and I've kept good on my other Lenten sacrifices -- ones I haven't publicly shared but are probably a lot more spiritually edifying than this one. All things considered, and this little setback aside, I actually feel really good about this Lent and the fruits that have come from it. If nothing else, this temporary slip-up reminded me of how weak and dependent on God I truly am.

* Blogging Bits: I've got a little write-up in the March issue of type-hi, the North Dakota Professional Communicators' newsletter, called Blogging: The Communicators' 'Playland,' (and more).

* Women and Family on 'From the Catholic View:' From 10 to 11 a.m. today, March 15, on "Real Presence Live," I'll be chatting with three other Catholic women on the radio about the recent United Nations Commission on the State of Women (aka, Beijing +15) Conference in New York. I'm looking forward to a very lively and thought-provoking exchange. Our guest will be local Catholic mom Tracey Frei, who attended a similar conference in Cairo, Egypt, quite a few years ago and will no doubt shed light on the Beijing +15 event. For more on that event, go here. To hear us live, go here.

* Flood Watch: We're starting to bite our nails like crazy again in these parts. Prayers that our Red River doesn't topple over in the coming days would be welcomed, however we can get them.

Happy St. Patty's Day a few days in advance to the green-blooded in the crowd. Grandpa Joe Byrne, Great-Grandpa Patrick Byrne, Grandma Mary Boyle (Beauclair) and all you Irish relatives of mine of have passed on...I'm thinking of you and hope you are thinking of us as well. The corned beef and cabbage are ready to go!

lent 2010: saints - heavenly helpmates or outdated obstructions?

During our new church’s recent dedication Mass, a litany of the saints was sung. Two cantors led us through a long list of saints, followed with the request after each, “Pray for Us.” The list included names such as Cosmos, Damien, Fabian, Sebastian, Agatha, Lucy, Agnes and Cecilia.

Just who are/were these people with such archaic-sounding names, and why do Catholics call on them or bother to remember them at all? What is their relevance to our lives, and aren’t we just placing more things between ourselves and Jesus by inviting them into our lives?

The Church comprises many holy people, some of whom walk among us. After all, we're all called to be holy. Yes, even with all our deficiencies, it's true. Some of the most revered canonized saints began their adult lives in serious, fairly constant states of sin. But in the end, they took up the call to be holy. They repented, turned fully toward God, and spent the final years of their lives wholly committed to Him. They became so close to God that miracles can be attributed to them. In fact, that is one of the requirements of the beatified (a holy person to whom we bestow the honor of “Blessed”) and the canonized (a holy person officially named “Saint” by the Church).

If we wish, we can look to these models of faith in our own journeys toward holiness, as well as the saints among us. Too, we can call on them for assistance as we grope along the path toward heaven. The Church leaves the particulars to us, but the examples are there should we need them. The difference between the saints in our neighborhoods and those who have been officially named as such is the difference between a life that has yet to unfold fully and one that is, for earthly purposes, finished.

I see the Church's wisdom here. When I was writing my children’s book, P is for Peace Garden: A North Dakota Alphabet, my editor warned me not to highlight any living North Dakota heroes. Roger Maris, Lawrence Welk, Hazel Miner and Anne Carlsen – all those mentioned had passed on, some more recently than others. As we all know, even the most admirable people can fall from grace. We're all sinners, after all, all prone to human weakness and poor choices. The publisher felt it would not be prudent, or fair to the children who would read the book, to introduce heroes who still stood the chance of a tarnished reputation.

And so, the canonized saints of the Church are those who have ended their lives in a state of grace, who have stood the test of time, and have, by their keen attention to God, prompted miraculous events. We honor them because we all need heroes, in every age, and whether the saint died in 699 A.D. or 2000 A.D., they are there for us to gaze upon if we wish so that we might be more empowered to take up the call of holiness, too.

I’m immersed right now in the book, My Cousin The Saint. It’s written by Justin Catanoso, an Italian-American who rediscovers his childhood faith through discovering one of his father’s cousins is in line to be canonized by Pope John Paul II. It’s a remarkable book detailing the life of the Italian saint Gaetano Catanoso, who died in 1963 and was among the last batch of saints whose canonization was set in motion by JPII.

The author describes one of the miracles that contributed to the eventual canonization. It occurred just an hour or so following Gaetano’s death, when Sister Paolina Ligato began praying to him at his bedside. The nun had spent half her life suffering from the crippling symptoms of acute bronchial asthma, which had severely inhibited her work as a kindergarten teacher. Many moments of her days ended in her coughing and gasping for air. She’d asked Padre Gaetano to cure her many times; instead, he would simply bless her and say, “Suffer and offer, dear sister, suffer and offer.”

And so, for more than 20 years, she listened. But on the day of his death, she prayed again, asking for a miracle, believing he might have even more power to help her in death than he had in life. Moments later, she felt what she described as a warm shiver pass through her body. She rose and leaned over to kiss the priest’s hand then went to bed, and when she awoke several hours later, she felt another strange sensation – the ability to breathe deeply without fighting the urge to cough – a sensation she recognized from years before. She took another deep breath - again, no problem, for the first time in many years. From then on, she breathed easily and painlessly. Doctors deemed it a miracle, and after careful study of her case, this miraculous recovery was added to evidence being collected in favor of Padre Gaetano’s canonization.

Miracles such as this confirm the reality of the world beyond ours, as well as its power, which exceeds that of our present world. It also gives us hope in what is possible when we live for and surrender to God.

In a world so full of fallen heroes, we need some who stand out as exemplary. The saints of the Church give us plenty of solid role models, as do those around us who live faith-filled lives. Those who have gone before us can pray on our behalf, just as a good friend will if we were to ask. We can go straight to God with these requests, but oftentimes, in our humanity, we turn to a friend or relative with an urgent request: “Can you pray for me?” It’s the human thing to do. It does not take away God’s power or role in our lives.

I also love the fact that there are saints in heaven for every purpose under heaven. The patron saint of communications, for example, is St. Francis. One of my personal favorites is St. Bernadette, in part because I grew up in Our Lady of Lourdes parish, which hearkens to Bernadette’s visions of Our Blessed Mother in Lourdes, France. Name your occupation, hobby or disposition and a saint can be matched to the particulars of who you are.

I'm grateful for all the saints, those on earth and those in heaven who help remind me of where I’m going. And as a believer in the Communion of Saints, I can rely on their holy examples as often as necessary. These holy people are anything but obstacles between me and my Lord. They are anything but stodgy and irrelevant. Instead, they are shining guides, helping me in my journey toward heaven.

lent 2010: 'spotlight' series: maria de lourdes ruiz scaperlanda

Spotlight's on...

Maria de Lourdes Ruiz Scaperlanda!

Welcome to “Spotlight’s on...!” This monthly feature highlights fellow mother-writer-faith friends I’ve met over the past years and have had the privilege to know and learn from.

It seems appropriate that the ‘Spotlight’s on...!’ interview for March, the only Lenten interview in this series, will feature a woman whose name derives from Mary. I first met Maria de Lourdes Ruiz Scaperlanda years ago when the two of us crossed paths online through our work as writers for Catholic Parent magazine, for which Maria wrote a column on the life and times of a wife and mother of four. Maria later invited me to join a Catholic writers’ listserv that she moderates. Through that relationship, I’ve come to view Maria as a friend and mentor, and I’m so honored to feature here on Peace Garden Mama today.

If you can, please settle in for a bit, sip on your favorite drink and savor the words of one of my mentor friends.

Maria, first, let me ask, how is Lent going for you so far?

I am thrilled to be here with all of you today. Thanks, Roxane, for inviting me to your Garden! You know, it's been an interesting Lent already. God is always surprising me, and this Lent started early. On that first Sunday of Lent, when the Catechumen and Candidates from our parish stood in front of the assembly and made a public commitment to enter into full membership with the Catholic Church at the Easter Vigil, I was touched by tears of joy and thanksgiving for their witness of faith. I have been working as an RCIA Core Team member the past couple of years, and it's a powerful and beautiful ministry. I love listening to the stories of what brings each person to the Catholic Church. It renews me! It is certainly a special part of my Lenten journey.

As a young mother, I used to devour the parenting columns you wrote for Catholic Parent. In fact, through them, you inspired me to want to write more about my own family life and eventually become a columnist myself. Can you share here some of the things you wrote about, and/or perhaps describe one of your favorite columns?

When I first began writing the column “Heartland” for Catholic Parent I was 37 years old, Michael and I had been married for 16 years, and my four children were between 9 and 15 years old, so I had a wide range of topics I could draw from! It took me a while to believe that anyone was interested in the day-to-day goings-on of a regular, albeit crazy, family like ours, but I learned that this is precisely what readers appreciate — the fact that we ALL go through the same things, we struggle with similar issues with our children, with our spouses, with ourselves. And when the struggles are difficult or even painful, this, too, becomes the glue that binds us together. I learned that if something affected me deeply, it was safe to assume that someone out there would relate to it as well, and that there were lessons in it for all of us. So I wrote about mundane things and the lessons they taught me, such as writing Valentine’s Day cards for classroom parties, sibling rivalry, fighting over chores, family prayer, and the crazy art projects I enjoyed creating with my children. And I wrote about serious life issues that none of us can avoid. Some of the most difficult columns to write became the most meaningful, both to me and to my readers, like describing my feelings over close friends who got divorced, or dealing with a family death, or my own struggles during a difficult time in our marriage. I learned to be honest in the topics that I wrote about, and in sharing how I struggled my way through them — both positively and negatively.

I think one of my favorite columns was called “A Horrible Mother,” and it was simply my candid reflections as I questioned my vocation to motherhood—and my own sanity!

I’d like to add that one unexpected gift from writing the "Heartland" column was the awareness it gave me into the inseparable connection between writing and prayer. As a young mother, still in my 20s, I had the grace of befriending several older women at the parish of St. Thomas More when we lived in Austin, Texas. One woman led and invited me to attend a “Spirituality class” where we read the spiritual writings of some of our greatest saints, such as St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross. She also taught us how to pray Centering prayer and invited us to make this a daily prayer routine — a practice I began then and have continued to do regularly as part of my daily prayer. In this quiet form of prayer, I practice the discipline of listening — and of being still! I mention this because that’s also how writing eventually became for me — a contemplative practice where I sit and wait, I listen, and then allow the words to come out from within me.Writing is a prayerful experience for me, and without my prayer, my writing simply would not be real.

During the timeframe the column was published, what did your family think of the fact that you were writing about them? Did they ever cringe upon reading about themselves?

That’s a funny question because it changed over time. At first they were taken back by seeing their names and stories on the printed page, so they handled it by ignoring it, pretending it didn’t happen! I remember once going to an archdiocesan Mass with our two youngest girls, Rebekah and Michelle. When the Mass ended, two women I didn’t know walked up to me and introduced themselves as readers of my column. They had recognized me from the photo in the magazine. But immediately they turned to Rebekah and said, “and you must be Rebekah. I loved your mom’s latest column about you. It was so sweet!” Of course, Rebekah was dying to know what EXACTLY I had said about her, so I suggested that she go home and read it, and so it began. All of a sudden, everyone began paying attention to what appeared in the magazine. The minute it would arrive in the mail, they would steal Catholic Parent to check up who was in it! As they got older, of course, this turned into a contest: which child did I write about the most that year. Well, you get the idea.

I think it was trickier writing about things that involved my marriage. My column was about family, marriage and self, so I knew that it was important to include our marriage journey in writing about what it means to be and live as a Catholic family. But I didn’t want to make anything public that Michael was uncomfortable with, so I made sure that I discussed my topic ideas in this area with Michael, and more than once I had him read the column I wrote before sending it in to make sure he was okay with what I shared about us.

Column-writing is not all you’ve done in your writing career. Among your many accomplishments as a writer is that of author, your most recent book being, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Mary of Nazareth. How did you come to write this book, and what sort of journey did you go on in order to write it?

The Idiot’s Guide to Mary of Nazareth was probably the most challenging book I’ve ever written! Not because of the topic, but because the Idiot’s Guide publisher, Penguin/Alpha Books, requires you to sign a contract saying that you’ll write the book in three months. Three months! I had never done any big project in three months, but I really wanted to work on this book, so I agreed. An agent in Connecticut contacted me to ask if I’d be interested in doing a CIG book on Mary or some other Catholic topic. Someone apparently familiar with my books, including my previous book on Mary (The Seeker’s Guide to Mary, Loyola Press), suggested me for this project. I considered it a privilege to put together an introduction on Mary for the average person. The writing was tough and grueling and intense and amazing. God led me every step of the way, and reminded me that this was Mary’s book, and just to trust the process, and to trust my experience and relationship with Mary. I have published five books and contributed to a number of other books, including one that you recently featured in your blog and radio show: Lisa Hendey’s The Handbook for Catholic Moms. A great new book! I am pleased and thankful that you are so generous in bringing your fellow writers’ work to your readers’ attention, Roxane!

One interesting fact is that none of my books have been my idea. Like the Idiot’s Guide book, all of them have been topics or titles that I have been asked to write about through an agent or a book editor. I am currently discerning what it is that I want to write about...what is the desire that God has placed in my heart? Coming up with my own idea is new for me!

Is Mary someone whom you frequently summon? I know that I have found myself calling upon her many times in my life. What has your relationship with her meant to you as a mother and wife and daughter of God

a Hispanic/Cuban, Mary has always been a natural part of my daily life. A better way to say it may be that I don’t remember a time when Mary was not in my life. Both at home and in my culture, Mary is talked about and consulted as you would to a fellow family member. After leaving Cuba, our family and relatives all resettled together in Puerto Rico, and at that point my grandparents came to live with us. My grandmother Josefa kept a life-size five foot (I'm not even exaggerating!) statue of St. Ann and Mary in her room, and she regularly prayed and talked with her out loud. I didn’t find this strange. Mary was the mother I could talk to when I was scared at night, or worried about going into a new school, or anxious about moving to a foreign country. As a young adult, Mary was unsurprisingly the friend that I asked for advice on how to live a holy life. When I became a new mother, it was to Mary that I turned for prayers and for help on a responsibility that seemed insurmountable and impossible to me. To this day, when I truly don’t know how to help or be a mother to one of my children, I humbly commend him or her to Mother Mary and ask her to mother them. Who else would better understand?

Mary is also our greatest models of Christian faith. For as long as we’ve tried to comprehend the mystery of a God-made-man, theologians have termed this the scandal of the incarnation. A God who chose to come into the world in the form of a baby! A God who sent his only Son into the world so that we might have life--and it all began with and because of Mary. As the first person to hear the outrageous news of the incarnation, Mother Mary reminds me that the only response upon hearing this Good News needs to be: I am the Lord’s servant—let it be.

I am so blessed to have many mentor mothers in my life, you among them. I feel you have helped prepare me for the day when my own children leaving the nest. First, perhaps you should introduce your husband and children to us – names and ages and what they are doing in their lives:

My husband of 28 years is Michael Anthony Scaperlanda, a law professor at the Universty of Oklahoma. Michael and I met at the Catholic Student Center as undergraduate students at OU’s rival school, the University of Texas in Austin! So we are Longhorn fans in a Sooner world, but our neighbors are good sports and put up with our Longhorn and Texas side. We had our first born, Christopher (27) by the end of our first year of marriage. And once we got started, we had the rest of our children all two years apart: Anamaria (25), Rebekah (23) and Michelle (21). Christopher brought into our lives three years ago the best daughter-in-law in the whole world, Mary Clare, and the two of them live in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where he works as an attorney at a law firm and Mary is a high school teacher. Anamaria is a Notre Dame graduate working and writing from Norman, so we are thankful to have her here with us right now. Rebekah is a Kansas graduate working in Kansas City. And Michelle is a senior at Marquette University. This means that, God willing, we’ll be entering a new era in our lives as of May. No more college kids! I still can’t believe this, but here we are.

I have read some of your daughter Rebekah’s columns, which are quite good. What does it feel like for you, as a mother-writer, to read your daughter’s published words? What has been your proudest moment as a mother?

My children consistently amaze me. They have been truly my grace and my joy. The things that they have already accomplished in their young lives is mind-blowing. I hesitate to name some of these examples because it may sound like mother bragging. But what I want to emphasize by listing these examples is this: they are illustrations of things that I could have never EVER imagined for them. God’s plans and details are continually so much bigger than mine! Let me share with you a few instances from their college years, since that's the most recent phase in our family's life:

After a wonderful freshman year at the University of Notre Dame, our son Christopher decided that God was calling him to volunteer with the National Evangelization Team. For a year, he lived out of a van and traveled cross-country giving retreats to high school and middle school students. I will always be grateful to Notre Dame for honoring his commitment to volunteerism and allowing him to return to his program and his dorm to finish out his next three years.

As a sophomore, our oldest daughter Anamaría imagined and put together a conference addressing what it means to be an authentic Catholic woman. This year marked the fifth Edith Stein Conference at Notre Dame. I can’t imagine how it must feel to see something so grand that you founded as a student continue on after you leave!

My amazing middle daughter—who, of course, didn’t want to do anything the same way that her siblings did—graduated with not one but two degrees, while at the same time becoming an integral member of the retreat team at St. Lawrence Catholic Center. As a journalism major she wrote about many things, including a very public testimony of her Catholic faith journey that was published in the University of Kansas student newspaper.

And then there’s my “baby,” Michelle. Two years ago in discerning what to do with her summer, Michelle went to work at a Catholic Summer Camp in Wisconsin, a commitment that is much more a vocation than a job — and one that took her out of her comfort zone and away from her natural desire to be home for the summer.

As proud as I honestly am of their accomplishments, their schooling, and all of that—what brings tears to my face even as I write this is my children’s love of God and their desire to continue to learn and discern what it means to be a Catholic Christian in their world today. As you have noted in your posts, Roxane, God speaks through the voices of our children. My children witness to me daily. As much as I desire a strong faith and pray for them with all my heart, I am nourished and strengthened by their witness to ME in what they do as young adults, and how they do it, in their decisions and their vision for the world.

Of all the writing you’ve done through the years, what is the piece, or book, that stands out as your most satisfying work, and why?

I don’t know that I can answer this question. I have been blessed with many wonderful opportunities in my writing career. I have great memories of meeting and interviewing authors like Madeline L'Engle and some really cool Catholics, like Mary Higgins Clark, Kathleen Norris, and singer Aaron Neville. I have traveled on assignment to some exotic and exciting places, such as Israel, Spain and Turkey. But also to some difficult ones like the slums of Jamaica, Haiti or Honduras after the mudslides of Hurricane Mitch. And I have interviewed many incredible “ordinary” Catholics living their faith in extraordinary ways. Nevertheless, maybe it’s because I’m getting old (I’ll be turning 50 this year, you know!), but I don’t think I can name one particular piece of work. I do remember moments that have been transforming in my writing journey, like the awareness through my column that I mentioned earlier regarding my writing and my prayer life. Or like the book editor who read over my first draft of one of my early books and returned it to me with a note: “The material here is great, Maria. But I’ve marked all the places where I want to hear YOUR voice, not just the facts.” I remember looking at all the gobs of red ink and wondering how in the world I would insert myself there, but I did! Those were very satisfying moments because I realized that I’m called not just to write, but to hear the voice of God deep within me as I string words together into sentences, and sentences into paragraphs.

I am right now in perhaps the most challenging moment of my professional life. After publishing hundreds of articles and columns, and even five books over a nine-year span, my writing came to a complete halt four years ago because of physical problems. I thought I knew how to listen and be still, but I was suddenly forced into the most unsettling silence and physical stillness of my life. In my office, I have a big wall of photos and sayings that I have collected over the years. One of them is a statement by Henry James: “A writer is someone on whom nothing is lost.” So, I don’t know yet how this most recent personal experience will translate into words, but I am hopeful. I would also humbly ask that you please pray with and for me on that.

Other than Mary, do you have a favorite saint, and why?

That would have to be Saint Edith Stein, Teresa Benedicta of the Cross — a Jewish convert to Catholicism who entered the Carmelite order and was murdered at Auschwitz during World War II. I fell in love with Edith while working on her biography, my second book. Edith Stein was a brilliant and renowned philosopher, but it is her open and willing heart that made me fall in love with her. If you're interested in getting to know her, in addition to my introductory biography of Edith, I would recommend reading her personal letters. She will blow you away!

A personal side story: I was baptized when I was three days old in Pinar del Río, Cuba, my place of birth. Because I was born in 1960 in the midst of incredible political and social turbulence as Fidel Castro took over our country, my parents and their pastor decided to not only baptize me but also to confirm me as an infant! So I have to admit that, as a teenager, when I learned of the tradition of getting to pick a patron saint at Confirmation, I felt a little gypped! I have now adopted Edith Stein as my patron saint and my saint companion on the faith journey.

With a backward glance, what advice can you offer young mothers and writers and faith-seekers who are trying to make a difference in this world?

First and foremost, make prayer, preferably quiet prayer, part of your daily regiment. Yes, I know what I’m asking! I had four kids within a barely six year span. As the Nike commercial used to say, just do it. It doesn't have to be long or elaborate, in fact, it's best if it's not! Being a woman or man of prayer is the greatest gift you can give your children and your spouse, and by extension, it will direct and bless your writing career. As far as writing, my best advice is to work on your craft. If, like I did, you are a mother working out of a home office because you want to be present to your children, working to improve your craft will mean different things at different stages of your life. Go on a writer’s retreat. Join a writer’s group. Take a workshop. Do an online class. Perhaps once the kids are older you can go back to school for a graduate degree. That's what I did that. Work at becoming a better writer as much as you can, as best you can. No matter how much we accomplish, personally, as parents what we ultimately want for our children is that they do better than us, experience more than we did, know more, etc.

When our children were young, Michael and I worked hard to be deliberate in sharing and living our Catholic values with and in our family. But everything gets murkier during the teen years, when those hormonal young girls and boys begin expanding and discerning who they really are—and fighting with us as parents every step of the way. Things will happen that you never expected. You will not understand why they behave or respond the way they do, and it can be painful for everyone. If you are in this stage or close to it, I want to assure you that it will pass. Something incredible happens as they grow up -- and I promise, they will grow up. You will watch them become themselves once again, but this time truly themselves! At every step of the way, keep praying for them, talking with them, sharing with them who you are and what you believe — and trust in the hand of God at work in their lives. Surround yourself with a community of fellow believers, other women committed to living out their vocation of motherhood. Be sure to include older women, those “mother mentors” that Roxane talks about. They will remind you that we all go through these stages. We can’t skip any steps. And then, believe with your whole heart that God is in control, because His vision is so much more than you or I could ever imagine. All I can tell you is that what I have witnessed already as a mother is phenomenal! And I'm not even a grandmother, yet :-)

Maria, thank you so much for letting us pick your brain a bit. If you could point the way to your work, that would be great. And then, if you could end with a Lenten prayer, I would be most appreciative.

I am deeply grateful for this opportunity to enter into your blog community, Roxane. What a beautiful group you have here! I am honored to share these random thoughts with you all. Thank you for inviting me to join you today! You can visit my website for a listing of my work: www.mymaria.net. You can also find me on Facebook and on Twitter, though I am more of a random contributor there.

Let us pray…

God of all creation, you have given us this season of joy to remember and reawaken in us the awareness of your living presence in our world through your Son, Jesus. Grant us throughout this Lent humble and contrite hearts. Bring us closer to you. Help us to open ourselves completely to you, and to the love you so want to give us. May we, through the intercession of your Mother Mary and the communion of saints, come back to you with all our hearts, our minds, and our beings. Grant this through our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.

Thank you Maria! I am turning comments on for the next couple days in case any reader would like to share their thoughts with Maria.

Happy Lent!

lent 2010: the sickos

“It’s kind of green, it’s kind of yellow, it has a rainbow in it, and a circle inside that you look out of. So, can you get it Mom? Can you?!” – Nick, 4, describing a flashlight that had been put up on a high closet shelf several months ago. He'd come to me bearing a stool, intent on accessing the object of his desire, preceding his query with, “I forgot what it’s called, but...”

“Gee, when you’re sick at home and sleeping all day, school sure does go a lot faster.” – Adam, 7, upon realizing his siblings were home from school.

+++++++

I’ve been thanking my lucky stars this week that we no longer have children in diapers.

After a phenomenally healthy winter, the flu bug finally gained access to the Salonen household. It started a week ago, when I heard a horrid noise coming from our bedroom. I’d forgotten just how awful it sounds when a grown man is "worshiping the porcelain god." We’d splurged on a dinner out that night, too – one of my favorite eateries. It might be a while before we return.

At the time I thought maybe the bug had been a strain against which Daddy had not been immunized like the rest of us, and that we’d escape unscathed. But Monday night, our 7-year-old curled up in our bed in the early evening, and when he got up to go to the bathroom, he lost his footing. Troy had seen him get up and mumble something incoherent and summoned me; I arrived on the scene just in time to see him wipe out and go limp, as if he were having a seizure. Phone in hand, I was about to dial 9-1-1 when he came to. After about a minute, his lips went from white back to red, and not long after that, he was on the pot with a saucepan on his lap, dealing with eruptions of body liquids on both ends, saying in between bursts, “This is the worst day of my life.”

This weekend, the girls started throwing up in the middle of the night. It’s funny, they are trying so hard these days to carve out distinct lives, but in the end, they are just too close, unable even to escape being sick in tandem. Someday they’ll appreciate the bond they share for better or worse, in sickness and...(sometimes in health, too).

Our youngest also had a short episode of something, which I’m still not sure was a true illness or just an issue of not having made it to the toilet in time (all these lovely details). Needless to say, I’ve made a couple trips to the store for Sprite recently. You gotta have Sprite when you’re sick. Oh, and chicken broth with noodles, once things start staying down.

It’s not glamorous, but still better than what my friend Lori in Minneapolis faced when she checked on her young son in the middle of the night recently and saw that he was covered from head to toe in vomit, unaware; not to mention my poor friend Jennifer down in Texas, who hinted at the scene in her household of diapered children and a mom and dad who were both sick alongside the kids.* At least we’re sort of taking turns around here.

But what I really wanted to report, rather than just all the gory details, is what has happened to the dynamics in our home since the flu hit. I’ve caught glimpses of our children showing compassion for one another. They wince when watching each another in the vulnerable state of being ill, as if they actually (dare I say?) care. I am seeing looks of sympathy in their eyes as they run to retrieve a “puke pan” or fill up a glass of ice water for a sick sibling. Sure, they’ll be screeching at one another again in due time, but the bug has quieted things down around here, shown different sides of them. Our youngest even has taken on the duty of doling out Sprite to the "sicko" of the day.

Indeed, illness can change things up within a household for the better. There are the obvious downsides too, of course, and quite a few plans have had to change in the last week, but I think the end is near. And now I know what I have suspected all along: that when push comes to shove, our children actually care about each another. They really do!

(I knew it. I just knew it!)

The Salonen Five - Christmas 2008

* You can catch my radio interview with Jennifer (Conversion Diary) from a week ago by clicking HERE (March 1, hour 1). The second hour includes a talk with Lisa Hendey from CatholicMom.com.

lent 2010: truth

“If these [believers] be mad, then madness is more beautiful, more reasonable, more beneficent, more effective than sanity.” – Charles Raven

Of the three elements that draw us to faith – beauty, goodness and truth – truth seems the most difficult to define or explain. And to some, truth ranks third of the three. Beauty doesn’t need any explanation, after all. It draws through the senses without words. And goodness is largely the outward sign of inner beauty, is it not?

So what of truth?

I’m thinking of a conversation I had by radio Monday with the former staunch atheist Jennifer Fulwiler (Conversion Diary). For Jennifer, truth eventually rose to the top of the three in her journey toward the believing world. For most of her life, Jennifer felt religion attracted the unintelligent who needed to make themselves feel better about the inevitability of death. To comfort themselves, they created a fantasy about an “after-life.” (Heaven: the true Never Neverland.)

Problem was, deep down inside, she wasn’t content. Something was missing – something that startled her awake more often than not in the middle of the night and left her with an odd sense of panic and un-resolve.

One of the first moments she began to question her long-held beliefs was while gazing upon her firstborn baby minutes after her birth. The beauty, the goodness of that child drew her in, and she began to wonder, what if there is something more and I’m staring at one of the products of it? Her tiny, vulnerable child opened up for her one of the first doors leading to faith.

Jennifer started looking into religion, beginning with Christianity, since it was the one religion whose founder had claimed he was, in fact, God. In addition, her husband had grown up in a Christian (albeit nominally so) home and yet she'd been attracted to him.True, he'd since abandoned the faith, but maybe it was safe enough to at least explore...

In the end, Jennifer came to Christianity because of the truth she began to see laid out as she examined, book by book, its foundation; not necessarily by looking to see how Joe X was living out his life, or whether Jane Y seemed to be getting it right (or not), but how the faith is meant to be lived as designed by its founder, Jesus the Christ. Catholicism in particular drew her because, she has said, it was so incredibly cohesive, so expertly woven together, that it soon became more impossible to argue against its believability. It also proclaimed to be “the one true Church” – a rather bold proclamation; just as bold as its founder claiming to be God. In the end, He’s either God, or not, and the Church is either true, or not. Too many factors pointed to the former, so Jennifer eventually took the leap of faith.

And in time, a beautiful thing happened, she later recounted. She began sleeping well again, the only midnight awakenings occurring because of the needs of her small children.

Not all would be so similarly drawn, because truth does not carry the same amount of significance to everyone. But I am one to whom it does make a difference. For me, truth stands solidly at the top of the three and binds all together, since beauty, truth and goodness are inextricably part of one package of faith.

Truth is not relative. It is not something that shifts with the wind, or with society’s particular leaning. It is enduring, for all time. Truth is the mind of God made manifest in our lives. And we need it in great doses in order to live a life of goodness and beauty.

In other words, truth isn’t the questionable variable – it’s the foundation of our faith that guides what we’re meant to be at our optimal.

All religions contain pieces of the truth, and every human being is born with truth at his or her core, but it needs to be understood and nourished within the context of the Creator’s perfect design. Catholicism, for me, contains the largest number of pieces of truth. It draws on an incredibly rich history, an enduring story of saints and sinners all, and its lineage can be traced back to Christ himself, as well as to Peter, our first Pope, and the unbroken line of successors that can be followed to the present.Wow -- if that isn't a mind-boggling truth, I don't know what is!

I need frequent assurance as I walk the life of faith, and the Church gives it to me, time and again. Whenever I’ve had a question about my faith and have earnestly sought the answer through the Church, I’ve never failed to find it and so much more.

I know that as I live out my faith and express it through writing, I risk looking a bit loony at times. When I share the zeal I have for Christ, some may think me a bit odd, perhaps even deceived. I may well be high on my faith, but rest assured, having God as my drug of choice is not a bad deal, not by a long shot.

Charles Raven once said, “If these [believers] be mad, then madness is more beautiful, more reasonable, more beneficent, more effective than sanity.”

That’s where I began, and it’s where I’ll end. Though some may call me cooky because of my faith, I’m with Raven on this one: there’s no more magnificent way to live.

lent 2010: goodness

Last week, I mentioned the three elements that draw people into a life of faith: beauty, truth and goodness. Having ruminated a bit on beauty already, I’ll explore goodness as it relates to my Lenten journey.

The first entry in one of my Lenten reads, Moments of Grace, contains an account of author Al Kresta's interview with Norma McCorvey, otherwise known as “Roe” from the historic court case, Roe v. Wade. When asked by Al what drew her to the faith, McCorvey, a convert to Catholicism, replied: “To put it simply, Al, I saw all the Catholics coming out to the abortion mill [to prayerfully protest]...and they were so reverent. They just glowed. It really won my heart.”

The glow of faith -- I've seen it before myself, namely on the faces of those who have led me closer to God. This glow, I believe, comes from an inner goodness, a connection to the Divine. Though some liken reverence to arrogance, true reverence hints not at snobbery but humility. It is an acknowledgment of who we are and to whom we belong.

This glow, which comes from goodness, is powerfully alluring; enough for a staunch abortion activist to drop her concrete-heavy guard and be led to faith.

But what gives goodness such power? To me, this glow is the natural result of a sincere desire to follow God’s plan and not our own. Once we’ve truly surrendered our will to God’s, everything changes. Everything. And once we allow that reality to penetrate us, that glow of goodness simply finds a place within us. We not only emit it from within ourselves, but we begin to see it in others, too.

There are days I feel the glow of Christ emanating from my soul out into the world. It’s an amazing thing to feel that connection, that love, that sweet surrender of faith. I have to be honest, too, and admit that some days, it's more fleeting than others. It is a glow, but not always constant. It won't be until the next world that our glow will be consistent.

There’s a song, “And They’ll Know We Are Christians by our Love.” How will they know? The glow of faith and the good that we do because of it. In its truest form, goodness is a visible reality.

Those who hold their faith dear, who try daily to die to self in order to let God’s light shine, cannot help but manifest light. “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.” It’s no coincidence that before presenting any other aspect of His creation, God brought light into the world – His goodness.

I have this vision that when the creatures of heaven look down upon the earth, they recognize us individually not by what we look like -- our outward appearances -- but by the light we emit. Our individual glow is in direct proportion to our goodness. And even though we fail daily in reaching perfection, our desire to do good plays a part in the intensity of our individual, unique glow.

I want to die with a smile on my face, and I want those who see me for the last time on earth to know, by the aura I emit, that above all else I sought to please God. Certainly, I'm not close to attaining that yet, but I have faith that if I do my best at what I’m meant to do with my remaining time here, despite all the particular obstacles I face, this will come to pass. Each day offers a brand-new opportunity to reach this goal. It is a constant drawing toward (even through stumbling most days) the Divine Light.

I do know this much: the more I let go, the more I glow. The more I step aside and let God’s light illuminate my life, the more vibrant the light within me.

May you, too, seek the glow of goodness, for goodness sake. And someday, when it’s time, may you die with the glow of love emanating from within you!

[Note: Peace Garden Mama's first-Wednesday "Spotlight's On..." feature will be posted next Wednesday instead of this week. Come back to meet Maria de Lourdes Ruiz Scaperlanda, who will share her insights on mothering, faith and the writing life.]