head shots

Last weekend, at the Grace Uncorked event at church, our table was discussing various things we had just heard from the presenter, as well as some recent--and not-so-recent--things we had learned about ourselves. Along with my husband and myself, there were two other people at the table, neither of whom I'd talked to before that night. At one point, after referencing my parents in some way three or four times in about fifteen minutes' time, one of the women remarked that I clearly had a deep foundation in my faith, regardless of where I felt I am on my faith journey. Taken aback, I commented that I felt as though my faith, for most of my adult life at any rate, was pretty shallow. I tucked this away as something to ponder.

Things happened, conversations occurred, days rolled on as they always do, and all the while, without my even purposely thinking about it, something was developing. At Mass on Ascension Thursday, I found myself slightly distracted; something I noticed because lately I've managed to stay fairly focused at church. The distractions started early, primarily because I got frustrated with the boys' inability or refusal to choose a pew to sit in, even though they were in the front of our familial procession, so as I chose, I sent Mom in first, thereby putting all of us on her blind side, which made me feel as though I had isolated her from the rest of us. [Normally, she sits smack dab in the middle of our crew.] Preoccupied, I found myself thinking about the people I had seen so many times before, but now know the names that go with the faces; people who have become much more than fellow parishioners or acquaintances, people who have become friends.

Many of these new friends happen to be converts from other faiths, and I found myself musing that their desire to learn more about our faith is one of the sparks that keeps me going. Suddenly I realized how much I had taken my faith for granted. And how little I realized the profound effect Mom and Dad had on that faith. They were my first teachers, my first examples of goodness and kindness, forgiveness and mercy, and of imperfection. Dad kept a note I wrote to God in second grade. I had forgotten all about it--and the response that God had written to me. Reading it all these years later, with my life experience and children of my own, I can see the depth of God's love the note meant to convey, and I am amazed, impressed, and truly humbled. We said Grace before dinner together every evening, were expected to behave well at church every week, went to Parochial school, and learned evening prayers. All fairly usual stuff.

But there was more that made an impact on me. Periodically, we would see a candle burning on the kitchen shelf. Mom and Dad would pray for engaged couples attending marriage preparation, and as a reminder to keep them in mind. I did the same thing when each of my parents had chemo treatments, and I've lit candles at home to remind me of other special intentions. Like my parents, I try to mention to the boys why the candle is burning. Dad prayed for each of his children and grandchildren with every rosary, at least every time he mowed the lawn. Part of the reason I say the rosary daily is related to his Marian devotion. Mom and I attend Faith Matters at church every week, and have begun talking like we did when I was a kid--about what we see, what we wonder about, what amazes us, impresses us, and stumps us about our faith. We laugh sometimes about things that seem incongruous with life today, but impress us about life in Bible times.

I thought and thought about how to bring all these thoughts together. I also started coming to the conclusion when I first got to church this morning, that once again, I've been asking for the wrong things. In my prayer, I often ask God to be more direct in answering my questions, to please just hit me over the head. [Yesterday, I read about someone who asked the same, and was literally hit by falling objects three times in one evening before someone pointed out to her she kept getting hit in the head and she realized her prayer was being answered. I'll admit I found myself weirdly jealous.] This morning, I realized, once again, that Someone knows better than I do: I learn better when my realizations are evolutionary, or at least less violent. And in their own way, my revelations are pretty sudden--like these realizations about the foundations of my faith.

So I had come to a synthesis for this blog post: where my faith came from, and where I'm going with it. Then, sudden affirmation: at the end of today's homily, two questions were presented, and I rejoiced with laughter inside. "What influences has the Lord put in your life to make his prayer for you a reality? How are you responding to him so that you can be a godly influence for someone else?" The very questions I had determined I needed to address.

I am truly blessed to have so many influences in my life guiding me toward my True Self--my parents, teachers and others who gave me roots, and friends, family, and even my children, who both fertilize and prune to help me grow. As for the second question, I've opened my heart, my mind, and my being to the possibilities around me. Discerning what I should do, versus what I want to do is still difficult for me, but I'm working on it. And with His help, a cooperative effort, I will learn to be the blessing I am meant to be.

Fully.