Funny. I was trying to think of what I would write for today’s blog. As I was perusing MSNBC I read a gossip piece on Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. The couple apparently has expressed an interest in having more biological children. “Well good for them,” I thought to myself (even though they are unmarried). More families need to be open to having more children. I continued reading until I came across the following part of the article that quoted a psychologist (who is not treating nor has met the Jolie-Pitts). The psychologist stated large families are not what women desired. Now in defense of the psychologist, they are from Hollywood, where children and those women who have them are considered exotic creatures. But it made me pause and ask myself, why is it considered strange to have children. Especially more than two!
Once upon a time, people had large families. My father was the oldest of six and my mother was the youngest girl in a family of four (at the end of the large family scale). I attended parochial school where it was not uncommon to find large families. For a long time, I was an only child and envied my schoolmates who had siblings they could play with.
Today however, large families are seemed as evil and selfish. Conservative radio host Laura Ingraham discusses an incident in her new book Power to the People. While taking six children (from a family of eight) out to a movie, she overheard two women behind her making remarks like “They all can’t be hers!” The incident jarred her into realizing the stigma attached to having more than a couple of children. Recent stories in U.S. media on the Duggars and the quiver full movement are met with scorn, laughter, and ridicule. Yet stories like the man who decided he did not want to burden his life and cramp his lifestyle by having a vasectomy at a young age are met with praise!
I don’t know when people will wake up and smell the coffee, children (to borrow a line from George Benson & Whitney Houston) are our future. Look at countries with low birthrates. Japan currently has about a 1.29 child birthrate (per woman) and a rapidly and increasingly elder society. Furthermore the low birthrate means their population is expected to drop by 28 million by 2050. In the United States, people are looking at solutions to an aging society. I submit a solution: lets support families and encourage them to be open to having more children!
Okay I will climb down off my soapbox.
For now.
In Defense of (Having) Children Monday, Jul 28 2008
Catholic and children and family 1:27 pm
Monday Monday Monday, Jul 28 2008
Uncategorized 6:18 am
Well I had hoped to have my post for today ready for this morning but life intervened in the meantime. I am off to work this morning and hope to have my post up later. In the meantime from Cardinal Arinze:
The Catholic faith never changes. But the language and mode of manifesting this one faith can change according to peoples, times and places.
Have a great day and see you later this evening!
Granny and the Preacher Saturday, Jul 26 2008
Catholic and grandma and vacation 11:14 pm
My Maternal Grandparents Charles and June Beadle
While at my grandparents, I could walk up the road (more like a dusty lane) barefoot of course and visit my great-grandmother’s and my great aunt and uncle’s houses. My aunt and cousins lived across from my grandparents so I had entertainment in my younger two cousins. My grandparents’ house was neat. It had the air of an older house. It was built from wood salvaged from another house with familial ties. At the back of the house was the relatively newly added on bathroom (my mom said they actually had an outhouse for her childhood). My grandmother had taught Sunday School at her church and there were tons of books of bible stories and activity books. My cousins and I spent hours playing school and reading these books.
I remember I was in my vacation bible school class. We were gluing uncooked macaroni noodles to cigar boxes (remember cigar boxes kids?) for our craft time. My class was taught by a church woman who knew Grandma, and lets face it, who at that church did not know who Grandma was? She founded a bible school class or two, taught various bible school classes for all ages, and was on every committee at her church women were allowed to serve on. If I walked down a hall, every man, woman, and child would say “You’re June’s granddaughter. Your grandma taught/served/etc me/my/etc.” However this summer there was someone who did not know me. Grandma’s Baptist church had a new preacher and he decided to come visit the classroom that had the little unwashed heathen. Which classroom was that? Why mine! The new preacher walked into my classroom and made a beeline for me. I looked up as I heard the teacher greet him and he ignored her. He came up to me and put his hand on my shoulder and said “Children someone in here is not going to see Jesus when she dies. How sad? Her mother was once a member here and left. That is sad children.” Those are the key phrases I heard. Oh and he also talked about how I needed to be saved. One of the teens, assigned to help out in the room dared to speak. “Preacher, she believes in Jesus and she has been baptized.” But she was quickly cut off. Finally, the preacher left saying I needed to be baptized and accept Jesus etc.
Later, after we had our apple juice and graham crackers, I was surprised to see my Grandma and the preacher walking (okay it was more like she was dragging him in through the door) into the room. Grandma then announced “ I believe the preacher has something he needs to say.” He then mumbled an apology to me and then announced to the class he was wrong: I had been baptized and there was no doubt that I was saved. Someone in the class was not going to hell. He quickly left the room and after that I hardly ever saw him. I later found out he did not last very long at grandma’s church. That summer was the last one I attended vacation bible school at Grandma’s church. However, I learned some valuable lessons from that day: Don’t judge others and never cross a southern Granny especially one who is best friends with the wife of the head of the hiring committee.
Altar Boy Memories 1956 Saturday, Jul 26 2008
Catholic and Middle Village and altar boy 5:12 pm
My dad, Tom Paige, in 1956 at St. Margaret's Middle Village New York
Finally, we were tested by having to repeat some of the longer prayers (I honestly don’t recall if we had to say all of the prayers. (I can still remember most of my altar Latin 50 years later). I did not pass immediately because I had trouble remembering the order of words in a tongue-twister of a prayer called the Suscupiat. We gave names to the longer prayers like the Confetior and Miseriatuer. The altar boys always responded to a prayer that a priest would begin and often finish silently while we were praying the response. After the blessing of the bread and wine, the priest would say “Orate Fratres” which is pray brothers and continue to pray and we would respond (and yes I had to look up the proper spelling but I can still pretty much pronounce it correctly: begin the Suscupiat which goes Suscipiat Dominus sacrificium de manibus tuis ad laudem et glorium nominis sui ad utilitatem quoque nostram toutius que ecclessiae suae sanctae.
Without looking it up- this is roughly the portion of the prayer whose English translation is “that the lord accept this sacrifice for the praise and glory of his name, and for our good and the good of all His church.”
I wasn’t the only boy to have problems with this, but a few days after most of the boys had been permitted to be altar boys I passed and added to the mass schedule. Father took several of us to the sacristy where we found cassocks (the black robe) and surplice (the shorter white outer garment) that fit and we were assigned a locker. Since there were so many boys, four or five of us shared a locker.
My first Mass was on December 1st—I think it was either at 6 a.m. or 7 a.m. In those days, St. Margaret’s had four masses. The early mass was usually around 5:15 to 5:45. The mass schedule was adjusted several times, but during the fifties there were at least 4 weekday masses. Al Araneo was my first server partner. My first Sunday Mass was I think the 7 or 9 on again–I think–December 7th and Larry Hall was my partner for that Mass.
Happy Saturday! Saturday, Jul 26 2008
Catholic and St. Anne and saints 9:48 am
Happy Saturday July 26, 2008. Today is the feast of St. Joachim and St. Anne, the parents of the blessed Virgin Mary. It is a special day for me, as I am named after St. Anne. I don’t know if it is because I live in one of the smallest Catholic communities in the United States, but I never grew up knowing when my saint’s feast day was. It is not a very big deal and was not growing up. My father always made a big deal about the reading in church about the “doubting” Thomas. But other than that I never really thought about my saint. I knew I had one because I was Catholic and that was it.
About a year or so ago, I heard or rather saw others online commenting about it. I first thought maybe this was something “foreign.” Later I noticed there were others here in the U.S. celebrating their Saint’s day. That compelled me to learn more about my Saint and why my parents chose her.
First, I went to the foremost authority on all things me, my mother. According to her, she chose St. Anne because she was the mother of Mary and also one of my mother’s favorite Saints. Next, I began reading about St. Anne. Where I learned:
St. Anne is the mother of Mary. Much of what we know about her comes from tradition rather than the Gospels. Saints.SQPN.Com has the traditional picture of St. Anne with her daughter Mary that I have come to know quite well. As a lifelong reader, I recently (okay this morning) learned another representation of St. Anne is of a woman with a book in her hands. She is the patron saint of housewives, lace makers, grandparents, mothers, and miners just to name a few.
Do you know who your saint is? If not I encourage you to learn more about them. Start with Saints.SQPN.Com to learn more about your saint! See if there are any books or writings about your saint. Most of all pray! Find out if there are any special devotions, novenas, or prayers (which you can also find at Saints.SQPN.Com) associated with your saint. Happy Feast of Joachim and St. Anne!
31 Days to A New Habit Friday, Jul 25 2008
Angelus and Catholic and prayer and rosary 8:58 am
The great philosopher flylady http://www.flylady.net says it takes 31 days for a new habit to take hold. In trying to grow my Catholic faith I have decided to compile a list of practices and devotions I want to incorporate into my life. [If one is missing you think I am interested in please let me know!]
Daily morning offering [I pray in the evening but always forget the morning]
Daily Bible reading
Angelus
Daily Rosary [ I already pray infrequently]
Daily Office
So now, I ask which one do I start with?
My Story Part II Thursday, Jul 24 2008
Catholic Biographical, Catholic, revert, story 10:09 pm
As I approached my mid-twenties something happened. I was working part time for a local Methodist church. It was nice, the pay was great and it was on Sundays. But I kept going to my local Church on Saturday. Yet suddenly I was no longer as fervent as I had been. The little things were adding up. Among these were:
We moved from the parish I grew up in. Our neighborhood was rapidly becoming a war zone (You know its bad when the cops won’t come into a neighborhood after dark!) We were now a few blocks from the parish that was the rival of my school. It was so different from my local parish. I kept attending my old parish thanks to friends who would pick me up. But on those Sundays when they couldn’t I had to go to the new parish. It was so cold and unfriendly. It even seemed like the mass was different there.
I attended the local Catholic high school for girls. In three words: I hated it. I eventually dropped out three months from gradation. The most I can say about my experience is for a Catholic school, the focus seemed to be more on money and those students who had it and the parents who could give money. (Looking back today however, I am grateful for the education I received there).
My parents divorced after 29 years of marriage. Enough said.
Life was changing rapidly and it felt as if I was losing all bearings. The anchors I had in my life; my church, my family, my home seemed to be slipping away. Everything familiar had disappeared quickly in a span of a few years. Well one day I decided to talk to one of the pastor’s of the Methodist church. He invited me to attend Sunday School and church there. I attended a young adults class. It was nice. We constantly did something every week in class and activities outside of class. At the time I was out of college (no degree) and working in daycare and absolutely miserable. But my fellow Sunday School classmates were attorneys, doctors, and nurses, etc and none of them looked down on me and welcomed me to sit by them if they saw me heading into church. It was so different from my new Catholic parish. And there we had it. One day I took the plunge went up and converted. It wasn’t a right away thing either. I attended this church for a few years before I fully committed. And yet….I did not feel Methodist. I really didn’t know what a Methodist was supposed to feel like. I actually felt like a bad Catholic. I still prayed the rosary. I went to church every Sunday but not the Church. No big difference I thought at the time but oh there was. It took me a while to go up during the communion service on the first Sunday of the month. It was not a big deal. Really-not a big deal. So many in my class talked about how wonderful it was and meaningful it was but for me. Nada. Nothing. Zilch. It was bread baked by a congregation member’s business and grape juice. Its okay. But it wasn’t what I had experienced in the Church. One Sunday I didn’t attend church but went to Sunday School. Then the next Sunday I slept in. Another passed and then another. No big deal for me, I was now a Methodist.
In November of 1999, I felt pulled back to the Catholic Church. Hooray! But it didn’t last long and a few years later I was pulled back to the Methodist church. Again I backslid and I remember one Sunday thinking to myself. I am such a bad Catholic-I can’t even be a mediocre Methodist. By now my mother and sister were Methodist. One day, mom being mom said to me go to Church. So I went to the Saturday mass at the local Church. Something strange happened. God spoke to me through the priest during the homily. He spoke to those who were attending Church after leaving for awhile. It was so strange. I went back the next Saturday and attended confession and talked to the priest while there and told him what had happened. I would like to say that after that I attended Church every week and continue to this day. Nope. Didn’t happen. But I did decided once and for all I was Catholic and would remain one until I died.
A few months later I became interested in this new fangled thing called Itunes. It was so amazing. You could download music for a small fee-I loved music from the 80s. But even greater than that were podcasts. For some reason while tooling around on the internet I heard about a program called the Daily Breakfast. I downloaded all the programs I could at the time and listened. And found out there was another podcast out there called Rosary Army. It has been through these and other podcasts that I have learned more about my faith and that there were others like me out there whose only connection to the Church was through the internet.
And there I am today. Working up the courage to go back to Church and confession. But I know with prayer and my Catholic family on the internet I will get back home soon.
The End or Just the Beginning
My story Part One Thursday, Jul 24 2008
Catholic and revert and story Biographical, Catholic, revert 8:47 pm
My Baptism at the Cathedral of St. Andrew Little Rock, Ar 1972
My parents were both Catholic. My father was a transplant from Middle Village, New York (courtesy of the Air Force) he was a cradle Catholic. You know the type, he walked uphill both ways in the snow (even during the summer!) after waking up at 4:00 a.m. to serve as altar boy at the 5:00 a.m mass. My mother was a convert from the Baptist faith. She converted not only because of my father but had visited family who had also converted and that visit had a very profound effect on her.
Two funny things happened in regards to her meeting my father involving the Catholic faith. My mom’s father had a list of qualities he did not want in a man who dated his daughters. My father broke every one being an Irish-Catholic New Yorker in the Air Force. The other event happened when mom wrote to the Baptist church she grew up in and asked for proof of her baptism as she was converting. Her church sent her a lovely letter with her certificate and also said P.S. Because you are leaving, you and your descendents cannot be buried in the church’s cemetery (she hadn’t even asked or thought of it). My grandmother was so mad she immediately told her church, if her daughter couldn’t be buried there than she wouldn’t be buried there either. Grandma immediately bought plots for all of her children, and their future children at another local cemetery with family ties. (Keep in mind, Grandma’s church did not want to tick her off. While she did not have money she was on every committee and was the backbone of the bible school program there.) The one thing I want to emphasize with my mother’s parents, they never said anything about me being Catholic. My grandfather was not a churchgoer but grandma was. But they both knew and were the first to tell others that I was a Christian (Another Grandma story will follow in another post on that-“GRANDMA VS. THE BAPTIST PREACHER”)
So there we are at the time of my birth. I was baptized at the local cathedral St. Andrew’s. We moved to a house right across the street from our local parish Our Lady of Good Counsel when I was seven and just in time for two momentous events: the first day of second grade and the birth of my little sister. I went on to have my first communion at during that time we were enrolled Fifteen months later, mom gave birth to my little brother-coinciding with the celebration of the Immaculate Conception and John Lennon’s death.
We went to church every Sunday. I even remember attending church the night before my brother’s birth for the vigil of the Immaculate Conception. We sat in the cry room, my baby sister and I were getting over a horrible case of the chicken. Nothing kept us from going to church.
My mother had a devotion to Mary and frequently told me if anything happened to her to remember that I had another mother to look after me. We prayed the rosary frequently as a family. Road trips even a short one to my grandparents (my mom’s they lived just outside of the city limits) always started off with a rosary. Usually on Thursday night I was babysitting for my parents who were attending Ultreya. When the weather was nicer and the days later, we could go with them and play on the grounds of the former St. John’s Seminary. On the grounds was a secret hidden grotto. Okay maybe it wasn’t really a secret but for a child it was cool when you could tell adults who didn’t know, that you knew a secret and lead them to the lovely statue of Mary that was there.
I grew up across the street from my church and school. Because of this, the church office frequently called over to my house during the summer for me to help. I folded bulletins when the copier wasn’t working right. I brought over the food donated by members of my parish for the food pantry. I removed gum wads and wax (eww!) from the pews. I cleaned windows. If it needed to be done, I did it.
I never once thought of never being Catholic even though I was in the minority in my state religion wise. Yet somehow, in my mid-twenties I fell away from the Church and began the struggle that continues to this day.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
