Category: the sacramental life

memento mori

For years, I was disturbed by my brother’s obsession with skulls. He put skull stickers on his drums, incorporated skulls into his tattoos and clothing, even decorated with skulls. From my perspective at the time, he was flirting with a dark, dangerous part of life; maybe even glorifying evil.

A few years ago, I jumped on the Lenten bandwagon of the memento mori movement, which was an ancient monastic practice reframed and repopularized by Theresa Aletheia Noble, FSP. Memento mori, Latin for “remember your death”, is an ancient practice of prayer — the reality of death ever before us illuminates our everyday actions in the context of eternity. One day we shall die—that is an inevitability. What do we do with this time? With our daily actions? The thought is sobering. But, rightly presented and understood, it is surprisingly not morbid.

It suddenly occurred to me that my brother might not be crazy. In fact, considering all he’s been through in his life, it made a whole lot of sense. My brother was a drug addict for years and I know came very close to death more than once; he also lost friends along the way to drugs. He now lives as though his life is a miraculous gift—because it is. I wonder if skulls are a reminder to him of his own mortality, something he’s probably been more aware of than I have of my own.

I bought a ceramic skull for our altar. During Lent, it sits below our icons. It weirded my kids out the first year, which made me even more glad it was there. Death is unsettling. Having been created in the image of God, death was not what we were intended to endure. But now, because of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, we look forward to the Resurrection: death is a passage.

For school, my daughter and I have been reading aloud together Everyman, a short play from the 16th century written by an unknown cleric about a man journeying towards death. He is abandoned first by Fellowship and Kinsmen, and gradually by everyone and everything he depended upon in life; towards the end he is abandoned even by Beauty and Wits. The man begs to be accompanied, but is repeatedly reminded he will ultimately meet death alone—save for Angel, who meets him with this greeting: “Come excellent elect spouse to Jesu: Hereabove thou shalt go/…/Now shalt thou into the heavenly sphere,/ Unto the which all ye shall come / That liveth well before the day of doom.”

Sometimes in our society today with so many distractions it’s hard to practice memento mori. But this year, with the threat of the coronavirus touching every part of life, it’s very real. People respond to this fear in different ways (some people hoard toilet paper, for example). In Oregon right now, we’re in a mandated lockdown; we’re only allowed to leave our homes for necessary outings. The fear of death has trickled into every corner of life. Yet, death is always here with us, even in times without pandemics. Maybe a hidden blessing in times like this is that we see for ourselves that the chasm that separates us from death is paper-thin. Life is a beautiful gift: yes, fight to live, protect life, celebrate and nurture it. But death, though ugly and terrible, need not be feared; it’s already been defeated. Through death, our life is illuminated. To see it before us is a more true way of living.

St. Hildegard of Bingen

Feast Day: December 17

St. Hildegard was a 12th century Benedictine abbess, mystic, poet, composer, physician, Doctor of the Church– in short, a remarkable woman. I don’t know much about her and I’m only just now beginning to seek her out, having caught interest from a convert-friend of mine who loves her.

Pope Benedict XVI said this of St. Hildegard, “Let us always invoke the Holy Spirit, so that he may inspire in the Church holy and courageous women like Saint Hildegard of Bingen who, developing the gifts they have received from God, make their own special and valuable contribution to the spiritual development of our communities and of the Church in our time.”

Though her original feast day is September 17, it has been moved to December 17, which is convenient since much of her poetry and song is fitting for the contemplative period before Christmas when we are accompanied by the O Antiphons. Below is a beautiful choice for the season, though there are many others worth seeking out.

Ave, Generosa

Hail, girl of a noble house,
shimmering and unpolluted,
you pupil in the eye of chastity,
you essence of sanctity,
which was pleasing to God.

For the Heavenly potion was poured into you,
in that the Heavenly word
received a raiment of flesh in you.

You are the lily that dazzles,
whom God knew
before all others.

O most beautiful and delectable one;
how greatly God delighted in you!
In the clasp of His fire
He implanted in you so that
His son might be suckled by you.

Thus your womb held joy,
when the harmony of all Heaven chimed out from you,
because, Virgin, you carried the son of God
whence your chastity blazed in God.

Your flesh has known delight,
like the grassland touched by dew
and immersed in its freshness:
so it was with you, O mother of all joy.

Now let the sunrise of joy be over all Ecclesia,
and let it resound in music
for the sweetest Virgin,
Mary compelling all praise,
mother of God. Amen.

St. John of the Cross

Feast Day: December 14

As the beloved 16th century Carmelite poet Juan de la Cruz’s feast day happens right after Guadalupe and St. Lucia, his is celebrated simply in our home: just a reading of one of his poems at evening prayer. All of his poems are fitting for Advent, but a few in particular are especially thought-provoking for the season. Below is a favorite.

Ballad VII: Of the Incarnation

Now as the season approached

(the date love specified)

for the ransom paid in full,

the shackles struck from the bride

who was forfeit under the law

law-giver Moses made,

the father with melting heart

after this fashion said:

My son, I have found you a bride

of your very sort, you’ll find.

You will have good cause to know

You are two of a noble kind,

differing only in flesh

(what are you but a child of sky?).

But the course of true love hints

here is a law will apply:

Lovers long to become

as identical as they may;

for the more the two are one,

gayer the gala day.

Delight and love in the bride

speedily would increase

(no question here, my son)

if she saw you a man of flesh.

I have no will but yours,

the son to the father replied.

My glory is all in this:

I do, and you decide.

It couldn’t be other than just

I follow as you provide.

How better let all men see

Your charity far and wide?

How better blazon your might,

sweet reason and deep mind?

I’ll carry word to the world,

news of a novel kind:

news of beauty and peace,

of sovereignty unconfined.

I go to be close to the bride

and to take on my back (for it’s strong)

the weight of the wearisome toil

that bent the poor back for so long.

To make certain-sure of her life

I’ll manfully die in her place,

and drawing her safe from the pit

present her alive to your face.

St. Lucia

Feast Day: December 13

I’d love to know the history of how a Roman martyr of the early Church became the beloved saint of Scandinavia (I think it’s something like distract the medieval locals’ winter solstice pagan celebration with a surprisingly fitting Catholic feast). But it was meant to be: the feast day of a saint whose name means “light” happens to fall on one of the shortest days of the year, with a 3:00 pm sunset after about six hours of sunlight. It’s no surprise the Swedes developed a unique celebration around her feast. I would be needing a little cheering up by then, too. Even in the PNW (with only a couple hours longer of daylight than Scandinavia), I get up the Christmas lights as fast as I can after Thanksgiving.

Though I am a little Swedish (8% to be exact), I didn’t start celebrating the feast of St. Lucia until I had children. It was something my older girls initiated after reading the Kirsten American Girl books, in which the Swedish immigrant Kirsten has the honor of donning the traditional white dress with red sash and candled-wreath for the feast. I think my girls were most interested in the dangerous, but beautiful costume. But we were also really missing Oma and Opa, my grandparents who at the time were 3,000 miles away. None of the German and Swedish traditions which their families may have known about in Europe successfully made it to America. In other parts of the States, European communities kept more of these traditions alive, but often when immigrants came to the PNW, they were loner homesteaders with little to no connections. The only Swedish piece of my family’s history that I retained was the name. The December after my Opa passed away, it somehow became more important to celebrate this feast, even though I never celebrated it with him. But I knew he was proud of his Swedish heritage; his Lindgren crest hung in the entryway of their house. So I was pleased that my children had taken an interest, and over the next few years, we formed our own little St. Lucia celebration.

When I was little, my mom made Swedish bread for breakfast on Christmas morning. It was just a recipe she got from a generic cookbook: a sweet, braided bread with different fillings. My kids and I now make this for St. Lucia’s day, along with an easy (but it IS Swedish!) dinner menu of Svenska Köttbullar (meatballs, creamy potatoes, and lingonberry; also known as IKEA’s dinner of choice).

On the morning of St. Lucia Day, traditionally a daughter wakes up the house with coffee, sweet bread, and songs. This job has rotated among our girls (and so far, once our girls become teenagers, they frown on waking up early). Our St. Lucia costume is a converted Princess Leia costume. We’re not quite sure how to manage the candled-wreath (or whether that’s to code?), but we have a gold and red ribboned wreath to wear instead. She can have attendants, other girls who wear white with tinsel around their waists and heads, or boy-attendants (called “starboys”) who wear white, have cone-hats, and carry stars. Our boys haven’t been too keen on this yet.

Even without the delicious sweet bread and Svenska Köttbullar (which is really fun to say), the story of St. Lucia and the significance of this young woman who was a “light in the darkness” as we are all called to be, is certainly worth at least a prayer or meal-time mention. This little light of St. Lucia reminds us of the Light we await during the Advent season. It’s another step in preparing our hearts to house Our Lord.

Swedish bread

(my part-Swedish mom’s recipe… so it’s legit, people… no, not really, she got it out of a cookbook, but it’s GOOD)

  • 2 cups sour cream
  • 2 packages active dry yeast
  • ½ cup warm water
  • ¼ cup butter or margarine
  • 1/3 cup sugar
  • 2 tsp. salt
  • 2 eggs (or 3, if you use gluten-free flour)
  • about 6 cups flour (this also works with gluten free 1-to-1 substitute flour)
  • Heat sour cream over low heat just until lukewarm.  Dissolve yeast in warm water.  Stir in sour cream (make sure not too warm).  Stir in ¼ cup butter (softened), sugar, salt, eggs, and 2 cups flour.  Beat until smooth.  Mix in remaining flour to make dough easy to handle. 
  • Turn dough onto well-floured board.  Knead until smooth (about 10 minutes).  Place in greased bowl greased-side up.  Cover.  Let rise in warm place until double (about an hour).  Heat oven to 375.  Punch dough down.  Divide into three equal parts.  Roll each part into a rectangle 15 x 6 inches.  Placed on a greased baking sheet (unless non-stick).  With scissors make 2-inch cut at ½ inch intervals.  Fill it.  Criss-cross strips over filling.
  • Bake 15-20 minutes  or until golden brown.  While warm brush with butter or drizzle canes with thin icing. 

This is a great book to have around for St. Lucia Day. It explains the traditions of the day, along with the true story of the saint.

St. Nicholas

feast day: December 6

I, like most kids, grew up with the Santa Claus myth. It’s a rite of passage in my family to have a photo with Santa while screaming in terror. I never really believed that Santa Claus came down the chimney and put presents under the tree, but I sure wanted to. My mom put “from Santa” on our presents for a long time, but I knew it was a gag. I loved fairytales, though, and to me Santa was a fairytale. Not real? No problem, neither are flying dragons or life-giving first kisses, so I could deal with the Santa myth and not feel like my childhood was falling out from beneath me. But my husband and I knew we didn’t want to push the Santa thing when we had kids. Especially once we knew the real story. I’m not saying it’s bad to do the Santa-thing, I think it’s totally a parental choice, but even if you do the Santa-thing, introducing kids to the real St. Nicholas is magical and {bonus} true.

Well, most of it’s true. Like a lot of saint stories, pieces of it have become myth and legend. But miracles can easily begin to sound mythical, so who’s to say St. Nicholas didn’t bring back to life three boys who had been boiled for stew by an evil cannibal? Or bi-located and saved sailors from shipwreck? It could happen.

We know for sure that St. Nicholas was the Bishop of Myra in the 3rd/4th centuries, and because of the many miracles attributed to him even during his lifetime, is often called St. Nicholas the Wonder-worker. He was (effectively) Greek and claims a large number of devotees in the eastern church. I didn’t hear about him until I was Catholic, and though I don’t remember specific families or conversations, somehow I gradually learned about the various traditions surrounding his feast day. The first year we celebrated St. Nick day, our two oldest daughters who were then younger than three, left their shoes outside their door and we put little chocolates in them. The next year, I bought them shoes and put gifts in those, then eventually we arrived at an official Family Tradition: we open stockings in the morning of St. Nick’s day, then have a Greek dinner.

These are stockings I made just for St. Nick’s Day out of red ticking and linen, and– this is important– they are small so they look happily full without my having to break the bank on gifts. But you could easily buy simple, cheap red fake-velvet stockings and accomplish the same thing.

What goes in the stockings?

  • Chocolate coins and/or real coins BECAUSE St. Nicholas is said to have saved three village girls from bad marriages by providing dowries for them (thereby making them more eligible for better men), and as he did not want to be found out, snuck into their homes (possibly through the chimney?) and dropped the coins into their stockings which were hanging by the hearth to dry. I’m aware there might be some artistic license in the details of this story, but we do know that this act of generosity did happen (how it all happened, well…)
  • a candy-cane BECAUSE candy-canes are bishop staffs, or a shepherd’s staff, and the red and white colors are very symbolic in Church tradition (and they’re delicious)
  • Clementines BECAUSE these used to be a traditional gift at Christmas since exotic fruits were a delicacy in northern Europe for, well, most of time
  • a toothbrush BECAUSE just because
  • sometimes a small trinkety gift if I can fit it in, like chapstick or bookmarks…

For the feasting, which is very important since Advent is technically a time of penance and feasts are a nice breather, I make Greek roast, Greek potatoes (which is basically olive oil, salt, and lemon), and some kind of vegetable. For dessert, The Best Part, we vary it up. Some years we make Russian tea cakes, or Chocolate-Peppermint cake, and I think this year I’ll try iced Gingerbread.

St. Nicholas is the patron saint of children, which I’m sure is one way the whole Santa Claus myth began. Ultimately, the story of Santa Claus giving out gifts to over-toyed children came from the story of a real person whose love for Jesus Christ led him to love, serve, protect and heal the poor and helpless. Some year I’d like to make that a part of our feast, too.

postscript

PThese two books about St. Nicholas are absolute treasures:

  • The Miracle of St. Nicholas by Gloria Whelan and Judith Brown
  • The Legend of St. Nicholas by Demi

Greek seasoning

Greek seasoning from Greece is the best, but this is a worthy substitute (and has been tested on real life Greeks).

  • 2 tsp. garlic powder
  • 2 tsp. dried basil
  • 2 tsp. dried Greek oregano
  • 1 tsp. ground cinnamon
  • 1 tsp. ground black pepper
  • 1 tsp. dried parsley
  • 1 tsp. dried rosemary, minced
  • 1 tsp. dried dill weed (I usually omit this)
  • 1 tsp. dried marjoram
  • 1 tsp. cornstarch
  • 1/2 tsp. ground thyme
  • 1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg

Advent & Christmas Children’s Book List

The Donkey’s Dream by Barbara Helen Berger

From the viewpoint of the donkey, we learn about the symbols of Mary as he imagines carrying each on his back: the city, the ship, the fountain, the rose. It’s a good conversation-starter with older children, and good for younger children to let the imagery sink into their minds and hearts.

St. Nicolas by Demi

Demi has written and illustrated several beautiful books, a few about saints, but this was the first one we purchased. Her style is reminiscent of Byzantine iconography, which fits the story of St. Nicholas perfectly. She includes all the stories of the real St. Nicholas, even when the boys get boiled and brought back to life, so it might need to be read under supervision. But one thing I appreciate is at the end she has a page of illustrated Santas, which puts the whole St. Nicholas/Santa Claus thing into perspective for kids.

The Miracle of St. Nicholas by Gloria Whelan, illustrated by Judith Brown

So this book makes me cry. Every time I read it. It’s about a small village in Russia that is in spiritual hiding. That’s all I can tell you. It’s not really about St. Nicholas, but he’s important to the story.

Lucia: Saint of Light by Katherine Bolger Hyde, illustrated by Daria Fisher

This story takes place in the Nordic countries where the feast of St. Lucia is uniquely celebrated. It begins with a family preparing for the feast, but later explains the real story of the martyr St. Lucy. I love that the reader learns both about the traditions established up north, and about the saint.

We Three Kings by Gennady Spirin

We have many books illustrated by Gennady Spirin. Her art is a visual feast of detail and color. The text of this book is simply the traditional song, We Three Kings, but each verse has its own elaborate illustration.

Legend of the Poinsettia by Tomie de Paola

Anything by Tomie de Paolo is worth reading until the binding wears thin. Several of his books I’ve had to buy two copies of as they’ve been beat up over the years. He has a few Christmas books, but Legend of the Poinsettia is a lovely, sweet story that takes place in Mexico. Another one of de Paola’s Christmas books that our younger kids love is The Friendly Beasts.

The Huron Carol by Ian Wallace

St. Jean de Brebeuf, a Jesuit missionary who lived and died among the Huron tribe in eastern North America, told the Christmas story to these first peoples in a culturally appropriate way. It has a beautiful tune when sung, and the sheet music is included in the back of the book.

The First Christmas (National Gallery London)

Taken from the Gospels, the text is simply the Christmas narrative, but with classic paintings by Gossaert, Reni, Boticelli, and many more.

The Three Snowbears by Jan Brett

Jan Brett is a favorite in our house; we love the detailed, but folky style. There are so many great wintry Brett books, but this one has always been a favorite: a retelling of Goldie Locks and the Three Bears.

The Nutcracker by Susan Jeffers

This book is a solid re-telling of Tchaikovsky’s ballet with pretty illustrations.

The First Noel: A Christmas Carousel by Jan Pienkowski

And last, but not least, this book is a beautiful pop-up sort of book. It’s not for little hands, but it’s still worth having. It tells the Christmas story. We just tie ours permanently open and it sits visible on a shelf in a star-shape for the kids to look at.

Advent Books

{a limited, but worthy list}

Advent of the Heart: Season Sermons and Prison Writings 1941-1944  ~ Alfred Delp

Our hearts must be keenly alert for opportunities in our own little corners of daily life. May we stand in this world, not as people in hiding, but as those who help prepare the way of the only-begotten Son of God.

On February 2, 1945, three men were hanged within Tegel Prison in Munich on grounds of treason. Fr. Alfred Delp was one of them. He had been convicted and tried for preaching against the Nazi regime. During his time in prison, he wrote reflections and sermons on little bits of paper, which were providentially smuggled out. Those reflections were gathered along with his previous sermons during Advent and published in a collection entitled Advent of the Heart.

The first time I read this book, it opened my eyes to the meaning and purpose of Advent. I’ve come back to it every year, and every year I find something new to meditate upon.

Fr. Delp’s fortitude and courage is communicated through his preaching. He writes about being shaken awake in Advent, about spending one’s life as a candle does for light. He writes about figures in Advent, like St. John the Baptist and the Blessed Mother. Knowing the situation he was in— of close monitoring by the Gestapo as a priest, followed by imprisonment, torture, and death— at the time he wrote these insights, adds more gravitas to his words, “All of life is Advent.”

The passion of the infant christ ~ caryll houselander

The best way I can think to introduce this book to you would be to quote from Houselander directly:

This book is mainly concerned with Christ’s infancy and childhood, and His infancy and childhood in us, not because this is the only way in which He can be in us, for that it certainly is not, but because, however else Christ is manifest in our souls, His life in them must start by being simply the infant life, the small, miraculously helpless life trusted to them to foster, that it may grow.

In Houselander’s unique style, she relates theological truths to life experiences, patterns in nature, and broad social issues. This book reminds me in its style of Way of the Cross in how she reveals the face of Christ in different people of different circumstances in life. It draws the reader out of themselves and asks them to re-examine their life in relation to others, but mainly in the way that “others” should all be the Christ-child to us.

Remember Jesus Christ ~ Raniero Cantalamessa

Disclaimer: I haven’t read this book YET, but my husband has and, though you don’t know him, I do and I tell you he’s a good resource for books. It’s split into two halves: the first for Advent, the second for Lent.

In order to bring people to Christ today, the Church needs to proclaim as simply and succinctly as the Apostles did, that “Jesus Christ is Lord!”

Jesus of Nazareth: The infancy narratives ~ pope benedict XVI

What I enjoy about this book are all the particulars– the scholarly details that lead to contemplation. Pope Benedict writes extensively on the genealogy of Jesus and what it means, the social and historical context of Roman-occupied Judea, while jumping to and from each Gospel account. I personally love when he compares in detail the annunciation of John the Baptist’s conception to Zechariah, and the annunciation of Christ to Mary.

Also, consider for Advent reading the sections pertaining to the Annunciation and Christ’s birth in Romano Guardini’s The Lord, Fulton Sheen’s Life of Christ, and Adrienne von Speyr’s Handmaid of the Lord.

the advent of Advent

Advent is a heart that is awake and ready.

Fr. Alfred Delp

Advent is a season of preparation, but in these last few days preceding Advent, I am in a period of preparing for the preparation by uncovering boxes in the garage that house the Advent wreath, candles, Jesse Tree and ornaments, books, etc. It’s much like that excitement I felt as a child in preparing for Christmas Eve after winter break had begun and Christmas seemed palpably near. The whole season is different for me now as an adult, and as a Catholic, but that stirring of the heart in anticipation of something mysterious and beautiful is familiar and comforting. Advent is my favorite season, even more so than Christmas.

I remember somewhere in adolescence when the magic of Christmas had waned. It was depressing. I tried to drum up the feelings of Christmas, whatever that means, the kind of sentimental nonsense I absorbed from department stores and Christmas movies, or something. But after entrenching myself in the liturgical year as a Catholic, the magical quality of Christmas was restored, but not just as a sense of wonder, but as reverence, a holy awe at the prophecies of Christ’s coming and the mystery of the Incarnation. Suddenly, life comes to a point; the purpose of everything is narrowed down to an incomprehensible moment when God becomes man. Yet, it’s not just about a sweet little God-man baby, but about the final coming of Christ. We see that our whole existence is one great Advent, a brief preparation for uniting with God.

Over the years, we’ve developed family traditions during Advent. We’ve added on, stolen ideas from other families, altered them, and every year is a little bit different. But our kids have come to depend on these little feasts and practices to make the waiting bearable:

  • the Advent wreath- candle lighting, reading, and/or hymns
  • the Jesse tree, its ornaments and stories
  • the Créche
  • feast of St. Nicholas
  • feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe
  • feast of St. Lucia
  • feast of St. John of the Cross
  • feast of St. Hildegard of Bingen
  • books!!! so. many. books… for Children and Adults
    {There are a great many worthwhile books to read during Advent, several of which are on my List of Books I Will Read Someday In A House By The Sea When My Kids Are Grown, but follow the links to my personal favorites}

My aim in describing what we do as a family is to demonstrate that it doesn’t need to be perfect. It really can be thrown together. I’ve been surprised that scrambling for a little celebration one year is expected the following year as an established tradition. These little traditions provide a drumbeat on the march toward Bethlehem.

the Saints

At a garage sale sometime around the age of 16, I bought a little green book called Wisdom of the Saints. I can’t say why I bought it at the time, because at the same garage sale I bought a print of a painting of Venice that wasn’t particularly good, and the book Coffee, Tea, or Me. But Catholicism had recently entered into my consciousness. I had a Catholic boyfriend who was in the process of re-discovering his Faith; I had just toured the Iberian Peninsula with my grandparents and fresh memories of cathedrals and Fátima were percolating quietly in the recesses of my heart. So for some pocket change, I bought this little book. It was like a saint appetizer plate, including brief bios and writing samples of some of the greats. I read a little here and there—my James Dean bookmark still holds my place.

At the time, the whole “saints” thing was one of those medieval Catholic inventions I had heard people talk about, things I knew we were supposed to snuff at as post-Reformation, American Christian people. We were smarter now, and knew it was all poppycock. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. Though, I did believe in an after-life, that souls went to either Heaven or Hell, which meant our souls kept on living in some kind of way. But Heaven was like a distant place, the “better place” which God lit up with his light and love. I think I pictured it like a drug-less Woodstock where everyone was blissfully happy and hugging each other. People I loved who had died had gone there and we would see them someday, but were for now off the radar, sealed away.

For me growing up, the only guarantee in the invisible, spiritual world was God and the angels, as well as the devil and demons. It made logical sense to me that if I really believed in the eternal-ness of our souls, just as I asked people to pray for me in the here and now, then I could ask the living souls to pray for me— those who had died, but whom death had not conquered through Christ’s salvific work on the Cross. Intellectually, I understood this. But the actual practice of it would take some time (and a little gumption). I could pick up a book like Wisdom of the Saints and appreciate the wisdom. But anything beyond that bordered the crazy.

The funny thing is, it seemed like certain saints started choosing me. I heard this from other people through the years, how it is true for them. Now that I’ve had children, I absolutely believe this to be true. For me, St. Faustina Kowalska and St. Thérèse of Lisieux were the two spiritual power-houses who caught my attention at first. I write more about that [here] and [here].

The communion of the saints changed the way I understood Heaven, and in so doing, how I related to the eternal on a daily basis. Heaven became a part of my life in the present, something not just to long for but also to experience here on earth. The communion of the saints is tied into the Mass: with the angels and saints we proclaim, “Holy, holy, holy!” While they kneel at the throne of God, we kneel to our humble Lord and Savior come to us in the form of bread.

When I started having children, I was at a loss as to how to teach them a number of Catholic things, but the Saints was something I was really eager to share with them. I’m so thankful they posses an awareness of this greater Christian family. Though we haven’t always been consistent, we try to celebrate all of their feast days (or name days). As they get older and are confirmed, they can choose their own feast. My eldest took Francis of Assisi as her special patron at her Confirmation, so now she considers October 4 her feast day. My second-eldest has a few namesakes, but has chosen St. Faustina’s feast most recently. Celebrating their feast day can be as simple as an acknowledgement, or they might get the day off from school (we home-school), sometimes we’ll have a special treat or something like that.

Through the years, at times during night prayer, each of the kids could pick a saint from whom to ask for prayers as part of a family-wide litany. As each of them gets older, I’m surprised sometimes by the saints they call on. Sometimes I know why that particular saint is on their mind, whether they just read about them in school, or they had a recent feast day, but there are times when it’s out of the blue to me, which is a lovely reminder that they’re on their own journey of faith. Last year I wrote up a family Litany of Saints to pray on All Saint’s day, November 1. It was alarmingly long, and really powerful to pray together.

As more people close to me have died, Heaven begins to feel nearer. Through childbirth, Heaven feels nearer. And the reality is, the veil that separates us from the eternal is thin. I could go through life without knowing about the saints, but I don’t know why I would. There is strength in numbers. And I need encouragement and guidance from my brothers and sisters here with me in this life, as well as those who have joyfully finished the race.