The Hardest Job You’ll Ever Love

These words were how she described her role as a parent. Suzanna’s young daughter had hit a rough patch and tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke about it.  Another young mom described her initiation into motherhood. She had competed at the highest level of her sport in college, survived a 72-hour simulation of World War III while working on her advanced degree, was employed in at the White House and none of that, she confessed, was anywhere near as hard as breastfeeding and being a mother. Yet another woman said, I’ve worked in the ER, the OR, seen all kinds of traumatic situations but motherhood is by far the most traumatic thing.

Moms everywhere overcome extreme hardships, challenges, sleepless nights, financial insecurities, physical trials and much more for their children. They sacrifice their very bodies for their offspring and could water the earth with the tears they’ve shed in the depth of the night when one was not well. “We are only as happy as our most miserable kid,” is how my friend, Maureen put it. Isn’t that the truth!

Motherhood is indeed tough and I think it is safe to say that all of us mothers, at one point or another, or many, feel incompetent, under prepared and downright inadequate to handle the demands of such a lofty position. Mothers who have mothered for many years often reflect back with the newfound wisdom that comes with age asking; did I do ok? How badly did I mess things up? We easily blame ourselves for things that didn’t turn out exactly as we had expected or intended. They rarely do. 

It’s hard being a Mom. So much responsibility, so much riding on our shoulders, so much joy and suffering. Things do go right and things do go wrong. Even the finest mothers will at some point make mistakes some, perhaps, even catastrophic. But who wants to give it up? No one! We live in the future that we cannot see and the past which we cannot change. Both meet in the present moment which is enough to endure on its own. 

No matter where we are on the timeline of motherhood, I think we can appreciate the words of this poem by David Ray. 

Thanks, Robert Frost

Do you have hope for the future?

Someone asked Robert Frost, toward the end.

Yes, and even for the past, he replied,

that it will turn out to have been all right

for what it was, something we can accept,

mistakes made by the selves we had to be, 

not able to be perhaps, what we wished, 

or what looking back half the time it seems

we could have so easily been, or ought…

The future, yes, and even for the past,

that it will become something we can bear.

And I too, and my children, so I hope,

will recall as not too heavy the tug of 

those albatrosses I sadly placed 

upon their tender necks. Hope for the past, 

yes, old Frost, your words provide that courage,

and it brings a strange peace that itself passes,

into past, easier to bear because 

you said it, rather casually, as snow

went on falling in Vermont years ago. 

 

May God bless all Mothers past, present and future. We trust the future to God’s grace and offer the past to that great repository of insights and experience that become treasured wisdom. 

Happy Mother's Day!

 Shock Absorber

 

My decades old impulse to call him when something big happens surfaced a couple weeks ago. I was leaving the parking lot of Kroger when a police situation developed. It was dramatic, terrifying and left me completely trapped. Feeling the shock, I grabbed the phone to call Dad. Taking a deep breath, I paused. He is no longer there at the other end of the phone. Just two months ago, he left for heaven. He would have been 90 today as I write this reflection. I miss him. 

 

From the time I was young, Dad was there to catch me. When I was 19 and totaled my car, I called Dad. When I lost my credit card and panicked because I couldn’t buy my books at college, I called Dad. Even well into my adult years I’d call him. When my furnace broke, when my husband lost his job, when the kids were sick, when I was sick, when the house flooded, when my daughter had a bad car accident, I called Dad. In addition, there are those moments too personal to mention here that I called Dad. He functioned as my earliest shock absorber. Always there to buffer the blows, soften the impact, ease the tension and provide support in oh so many ways. In my most vulnerable states he kept me safe, helped me pick up the pieces, pull myself together and continue on. 

 

Dad’s early life was fashioned by shocking details. His mother, destitute and abandoned by her husband, had little choice but to put her four year old son in foster care and ultimately release him for adoption. It was during the Great Depression, she had many children but no means to care for them all.  She was in a desperate and shocking situation. Two years later Dad was adopted by two loving people, my Grandma and Grandpa, who adored him and became the shock absorbers in his young life. I am so grateful for all of them, even the one who abandoned his family. It humbles me to know that my existence, as well as that of my six siblings, four children, four (almost five) grandchildren and several nieces and nephews came forth from such a sad and tragic situation. But isn’t that true in some way for all of us? Somewhere in the history of our families we find (or would find) shocking details followed by the discovery of the shock absorbers. The ones who lay down their very lives so others can live. Out of death comes life. I believe I come from a long line of shock absorbers and have assumed the role myself. This is one of the basic job requirements for parents, grandparents, extended family, friends and communities of faith. 

 

Christmas is the celebration of the incarnation of the greatest of shock absorbers. Everything about the story of the birth of Jesus is dreadful.  Our imaginations can’t help but be transfixed by the thought of a long journey on a donkey while nine months pregnant, having to give birth in a cold stable in an occupied country, away from family and friends, using a dirty manger for a crib, and having to flee from an angry King who wanted to kill the baby. In this story, God came into a cold, heartless world. Shocking, shocking, shocking. 

 

If it weren’t for the fact that we know how the story goes would we even find the Nativity scene heartwarming at all? Probably not. We’d find it disturbing and unappealing. But I think it’s meant to disturb us. It’s meant to force us to contemplate suffering around us and maybe consider how we can function as shock absorbers. We are called to go beyond our comfort zones, to the most vulnerable “babies in the manger”, to seek them out and bring them gifts. 

 

The one who heals, born in such tragic circumstances is eventually brutally crucified. In the face of such violence, he counters with nonviolence, with mercy and love. All of this story should shake us up. Jesus willingly took upon himself the sin of the world and liberated humanity from the bonds of sin and death. We must ask ourselves, as the ones who follow His Way, how can we live like this?

 

My Dad’s death was like a sonic blast. Although I saw it coming, it still catapulted me into a free fall.  Dad was my first major shock absorber but he wasn’t the last. I feel so fortunate to have my faith, my husband, my children, my siblings and friends who all help to absorb the shock of losing him. In that parking lot at Kroger, I pivoted my impulse and called my baby sister. 

 

As we gaze upon our Nativity scenes this Christmas Season may the Spirit of Holiness captivate us and illuminate those in our path, in our families, neighborhoods, schools, and places of work who are most vulnerable. May our hearts be cracked wide open and may we discover the gift of serving as their shock absorbers.   

 

Merry Christmas.

Mary Garlow

Director of Faith Formation

mgarlow@olqm-parish.org

Things Aren’t Always How They Appear

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Things aren’t always  how they appear. Have  you noticed this to be true in your own life? I certainly have. My Dad would remind us seven children to speak softly and not be so quick to pass judgment because we don’t know the whole story. My Dad is a smart guy. 

Dad’s instruction is not easy to follow. It doesn’t come naturally but must be learned. When we hear some unexpected news, or encounter a difficult situation our minds automatically want to divide, subdivide, take sides and make a judgment call. But how many times have we continued the walk only to find out that we really didn’t have all the facts and indeed misjudged a person or situation. Quite humbling for sure.

Today’s Gospel reveals to us some important lessons. The Wedding Feast at Cana begins Jesus’ public ministry. Jesus was 30 years old. Although he is God, it took Mary that long to prepare Him for His mission. He too it seems had to learn to see with His heart. When he was ready, she told Him it was time. At first, He didn’t seem to get it. But then He moved. 

How embarrassing for the host family. Running out of wine? Unheard of and a disgrace. But things aren’t always as they appear when Jesus is around. He transformed this tragic situation into one of joy. Not only were those jars now filled with wine, they were filled with the best wine. Unheard of that the best would be saved for last! For the next three years, He would continue this revolution.

Mary is our universal Mother who teaches us to see with our hearts. Jesus continues to flip things around all the time. He makes what seems to be the worst into the best. Thank you, Mary and Jesus. You are invited to all our parties!

The Fuller Brush Man and the Lenten Journey

When I was young the summers seemed longer and we spent most of our time outside visiting with the neighbors and doing a whole lot of nothing. Occasionally something really exciting would happen; the Fuller Brush man would come. His visits were not scheduled but nobody seemed to mind. My mother was the most friendly and generous person.  She and I (and my siblings and neighbors) would sit down and enthusiastically look at all the cool gadgets and gizmos he had in his attaché case. I particularly liked the hairbrushes. He was a masterful salesperson displaying the items with pride and explaining how they would make our lives better. My mother would occasionally make a purchase but not always. Regardless, neither party considered the visit a waste of time. It was always mutually enjoyable and we’d look forward to the next.

My mother’s openness to others influenced me greatly. In reflecting, I see now that she was the living example of the scripture passage from Philippians where St. Paul teaches; Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as more important than yourself. (Phil 2: 3)

I miss my Mom. I miss those days. Life was less hectic. In my memory, people were calmer and friendlier. Whether this is true or not is hard to tell but the desire to recapture the feeling is real. The world today feels different. The market place has changed drastically; in some ways for the better but not in all ways. Unlike days gone by, buying and selling in our modern economy is often mediated by a device of some sort. We live in a constructed world of “convenience”. But it’s not nearly as much fun. In many ways, relationships have been replaced with computers.

My mother’s example taught me to honor the energy of God found in creation and in each person who is a little eternity and a mystery to be discovered. She showed me that relationship is truly the central theme of our Christian faith. We profess belief in the Holy Trinity; that God is essentially a quality of relationship itself, an event of communion. Our journey as disciples is a journey to a fuller realization of life in the Trinity and what it means to be a part of that boundless movement that continuously calls us forth and draws us back in an infinite exchange of mutual love. It is a life of giving and receiving between participants equal in all aspects, a reciprocity of needs and gifts.

Journeys are filled with the unknown and require faith. Journeys are exciting and mysterious but often risky, demanding and uncomfortable. If we are open, our journey can take us to what Pope Francis refers to as the “existential peripheries”; to people and places that are out of our normal routines or control but stretch us beyond our comfort zones.  Each new encounter with another person is certainly inherent with risk. But inherent also is the potential for blessing. We don’t know until we try.

I decided to make Lent 2017 a season to honor “the other”; to make a thoughtful effort to be more like my Mom. One way to do this was to form new habits in my relationship to the market place and its modern conveniences which make it possible to do business without any face to face communication with a person. Today’s market economy encourages us to pay at the pump, self-check at the grocery store, use mobile deposits, drive up to the ATM machine, take advantage of post office kiosks, order online, etc. We are told that these conveniences will save us time and energy but I can’t help but wonder if they don’t unintentionally contribute to loneliness and isolation. What once were natural and comfortable exchanges between individuals now seem awkward and almost abnormal. Our collective psyche is being molded to consider the other not so much as gift but more as a problem to be avoided. If the Fuller Brush man appeared today, I’m sorry to say that my reception would probably not be as it was years ago. I’ve been swept into the “too busy” way of thinking. I don’t believe this is the person my mother raised me to be.

These past six weeks I have been “fasting” from these conveniences and since embarking on this Lenten fast, I’ve called more people by name, offered gratitude more frequently, smiled more often and reassured others on a job well done; all forms of blessing. I have deliberately chosen to take extra time and go out of my way, but I must admit, I’ve experienced a profound sense of happiness. Yes, I’ve had short tempered attendants and fought my own impatience, but my decision to see the other with new eyes has allowed me to be disturbed less easily and to pay attention to the preferences and demands I make as a consumer.

The Law of Karma states that what we put out into the universe comes back to us. What we do to another, we do to ourselves. Simple really. I’m learning it is possible to recapture that feeling of a calmer and friendlier world. I just need to seek community over immunity and breath out what I desire to breathe in.

Happy Easter!

Mary Garlow

What if We Run out of Jesus?

On the way into Mass last Sunday, this is the question asked of me by my five year old granddaughter.

I had never even thought of that. But she did. After a moment I replied “well, we can’t run out of Jesus. It is impossible. When God raised him up he became superabundant!” She smiled and repeated the word, Superabundant.”

What a great question. What a great word. What a great concept; something so good and so plentiful that we never run out. How fortunate for us.

In her five years of life on this planet Fiona has learned what it means to run out of something she loves. She worries about her special little pal, Bunny, which she has carried with her everywhere since she was a year and a half old. Bunny is pretty tattered now. It has been sown and glued and everything we can think of to protect its fragile fur. But Bunny is running out. Death is real and Fiona, already at her tender age, knows this.

During the Triduum, we recall how the world did run out of Jesus for a day. We commemorate that day and call it Holy Saturday. The tabernacles are all empty. Jesus disappeared from sight on that day in history. It appeared that violence had won. Good had attracted evil and evil consumed the good. The world was dark and bleak as if all the color had been drained out. Both religious and civil leaders set out to destroy Jesus and it appeared as if they succeeded. At this time, the playing field had been leveled. No one was better than anyone else. All stood in need of redemption.

But out of death came life, out of rejection came rebirth. He rose. Death had not won. Alive again, he was hardly recognizable. He looked like everyone else. Mary Magdalene didn’t recognize him, the disciples didn’t recognize him, and the travelers on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize Him.  Resurrected, He became superabundant. He became universal.

To ensure we would never again be without him, Jesus gave us the Holy Spirit and instituted the sacraments by which we have access to transformative, sanctifying grace. But Jesus also taught us that he is to be found in the poor, the marginalized, the sick and suffering. He promised to be among us when we gather in his name. He is in the assembly of His faithful. He is in families. He is in the joys and sorrows of everyday life. He instructed us to love one another and to treat each other with dignity and respect. What we do to the least, we do to Him. He is with us till the end of time in so many ways so as to ensure, we will never run out.

Fiona, Jesus is everywhere. Most importantly, his abundant life, he gives to you!

Mary Garlow

A Church Ignited

When my 6^th grade teacher, Mr. Henzie, offered extra credit for pronouncing and accurately spelling the word behind the acronym DNA, I rose to the occasion. Deoxyribonucleic acid was indeed a challenging word for a 12 year old, but I was a good speller and enjoyed the benefits of a good memory.

Understanding DNA is a bigger challenge than spelling it. Those gifted with a scientific mind can describe its components detailing genomes, nucleotides and chromosomes and how they all fit together. I simply know that this chemical substance contains genetic coding that is passed on from one generation to the next.

When Archbishop Vigneron stated that he is seeking a “change in the very DNA of the Church in Detroit”, I began thinking, what does that mean? Does Church have DNA? How can we decode it? If a DNA test was performed on the Church, what would it reveal?

In 1974 Pope Paul VI called for a Synod of Bishops to focus on evangelization. The Bishops performed a pseudo DNA test on the Church which revealed that the gene for evangelization had weakened and the Church was not reproducing the faith in others as she once had. They began decoding the Church’s DNA from which Pope Paul VI wrote the Magna Carta document; Evangelization in the Modern World. This document reignited the whole Church towards her primary mission and sparked a resurgence of the gene for evangelization.

In keeping with this momentum, Archbishop Vigneron has launched Synod 16 to resurge Detroit in the area of evangelization.  He hopes that this synod will help us better understand how we can be an evangelizing diocese, established in our time and sustained through future generations. Through this synod process, the Archbishop seeks to reawaken the hearts of the faithful to have a renewed encounter with Jesus, to grow in relationship with Him and to share Him with others. He wants us to be a Church on mission.

Working in the office of evangelization has offered me a chance to run some diagnostic work in parishes and Catholic organizations. I have discovered some common cultural norms that actually work against evangelization and mission and must be corrected if transformation is to occur. They are as follows:

De evangelizing parish cultural norms	Evangelizing parish cultural norms
Belief that faith is a private matter	Correction: While faith in Jesus is personal, it is not meant to be private. Being a disciple means we have been chosen by God to take Jesus into the world. We can say no to God’s choice if we wish, but then our faith will fizzle and God will have to find someone else.
Belief that evangelization is for the ordained	Correction: evangelization is for the Baptized and Confirmed. Through these sacraments we receive gifts and charisms and are sent on mission. Ordained ministers are at the service of the lay faithful, that they may grow in holiness and be  sent into the world.
Belief that formal education is a pre requisite to evangelization	Correction: It’s not about us and what we know, it’s about the Holy Spirit who moves in and through the Body of Christ, sends us on mission and gives us the words or actions needed for evangelization.
Belief that Catholics don’t evangelize	Correction: evangelization is at the very heart of our identity. The Catholic Church exists in order to evangelize. Catholics are the original evangelizers.

Archbishop Vigneron intends that through Synod 16 “we will inform ourselves of the nature and practice of evangelization as our first and most important pastoral activity. As a diocese, we will seek to establish practices encouraging and nurturing evangelization as a normal activity in our Catholic institutions.”

Synod 16 promises to be an exciting time in Detroit as we decode and recode our Church DNA and radically change how we do things. Passing on the faith is everyone’s business and our number one concern. We are saved in order to be sent.