In the Ritual, I Found Meaning

Written By: Kim - Apr• 24•11

I am Catholic and have been since the day my parents baptized me. As we all know, there is a huge difference between being a church-punching pew attendee and a Christian. I learned at 13 what the difference meant and I will save that experience for another post.

This past week is the holiest of weeks in the Catholic Church. My children are both alter servers and because we were in town for spring break, they were scheduled to serve three times in four days, much to their chagrin. We began our Easter weekend with Holy Thursday. This night begins the most powerful, beautiful time in the liturgical calendar. We celebrate Jesus’ Last Supper with is 12 disciples, one of whom will betray him for 30 pieces of silver. This is also when Jesus washes the feet of his 12 disciples to symbolize humility and service to others.

As I sat in the pew, I found Holy Thursday Mass to be a humbling experience. This Mass is not for the faint of heart: it’s lasts two hours, which is twice as long as a regular Sunday Mass. But the ending bespeaks our search for a higher meaning: The altar is stripped bear leaving no cloth covering the marble slab. The Tabernacle, which normally houses the consecrated hosts (the Body of Christ) is removed and placed for adoration in the small chapel until Easter Vigil on Saturday evening. The red sanctuary light (no jokes here), which is on at all times to symbolize that Christ is at the altar, is snuffed out. The Tabernacle door is left wide open so that we all know that this is the time that Jesus was laying bear his ultimate sacrifice for us. His Passion begins when he is praying in the Garden of Gethsemane and then soon arrested.

We also attended Good Friday Mass. The African American spiritual song, “Where You There When They Crucified My Lord?” is sung by our choir during this mass and always causes me to crack. I cannot escape listening to this song and not use a Kleenex or three. The message is powerful and really allows me to reexamine how deep my faith is. Would I have denied knowing Jesus or would I have followed him to his crucifixion? I certainly hope I would not have been a coward.

As Easter Morning rose with the sun shining, it was a lovely reminder of Jesus rising from the darkness into the light as He ascended into heaven. The Easter season, as our priest at this morning’s mass reminded us, is the time for us (read me) to ask God to show us how to become a better disciple; to serve others with a generous heart.

I am working on it. Are you?

Sacrifices Run Deep: How Genuine Are You?

Written By: Kim - Mar• 25•11

I ran into an acquaintance at the gym this week. For almost 11 years, we traveled in our local chamber circles, citywide school band concerts and now the gym. I won’t pretend to be anything beyond the “I know her” relationship. She is a lovely person with a great sense of humor. We just never connected beyond a superficial business relationship.

When I asked her how her family was doing, she hesitated and looked away. Then replied fine. I asked if she was sure. Then, she dropped a bombshell: They had just buried her 23-year-old stepson the day before. He had returned from Afghanistan, was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and was unable to heal. And, that it was the first time she had been out of the house since it happened.

I was stunned. As I made the cursory, “I am so sorry” comment, I realized that this was really phony. We do this all the time — all of us. Don’t act like we don’t. Someone else suffers, we are shocked and then we go on about our lives. So, despite the fact that I was somewhat sweaty from yoga class (yeah, I am a girl who sweats in yoga), I hugged her. It seemed more genuine. I did apologize for being sweaty, but she was going in to a cardio class, so my fate was soon to be hers anyway.

I knew this woman had remarried and that she had sons of her own. I did not know enough about her life to realize she had any stepchildren or that they would be old enough to serve in the military at this time. But for that moment, I shared her loss as a Mother and human being. I could only imagine the grief her family was shouldering. The torment they would feel as parents not being able to help their son heal. The realization that their son is gone — permanently from this earth — and spent the last moments of his life a tortured soul. The loss is staggering and I am praying that God will heal their family.

Can my red head freckled face boy really become a Navy Seal?

I left her in the studio and made my way to my car, immediately thinking about my 13 year-old son. In less than five years, he will legally be able to vote, strap on a uniform and serve his country, if he so chooses. He has made overtures that he is interested in becoming a US Navy Seal. How genuine will I be in supporting him if this is what he chooses?

Would my fate ever be that of this stepmom and so many other parents who bury their children after they served in the military? I wholeheartedly believe in “duty, honor, country” but do I believe it enough to potentially sacrifice one of my own children to this cause? Any cause? I grew up a military brat with siblings who served. My husband served in the US Air Force as did his Dad and sister. But would I be able to say yes when asked?

Despite a Mother’s worry, I believe I would honor my son’s decision and support him in any way possible. Part of being a good parent is giving our children wings and letting them fly. We cannot hold them back from their dreams, desires or destinies even when the path might be dangerous. We have to have faith that they will persevere and that God will carry us through our times of sorrow, if they do not.