The Widow's Mite

A friend recently attended Mass where the priest spoke to the parents of young children in this way: "You know, many mothers and fathers are afraid to attend Mass with their little ones because they as adults can't pay attention like they did when they went without children. They can't hear the homily as attentively, they can't pray as reverently. In fact, they may be trying their best just to keep the grace/sin meter in the positive for the duration of the Mass! But remember, God doesn't measure our lives based on how much we give. Think of how he considered the bounteous donations of silver and spices to the temple treasury by the rich Jews of his time. Of course they could give, and they could give without it hurting one bit. Jesus focused on the woman who gave just two mites. Why? Because she gave all she had." 

Be of great courage when Mass is hard with young children. God will bless your efforts and multiply your gift generously. Sometimes you even get to see the fruits of your sacrifice while the children are still young. As we contemplate how the Holy Spirit came upon his Church, gathered together in the upper room so many centuries ago, I give you a few stories collected over the past few weeks of how that same Spirit fills the children with spontaneous joy and love:

Last weekend, I attended Mass at a different parish in order to celebrate my friend's daughter's baptism. The homily for the Ascension was preparing for this weekend's Pentecost celebration. The priest was entreating all of us to be ready to say YES to the Holy Spirit. Mary, he said, was the first to receive that outpouring at the Annunciation. She was there at Pentecost telling everyone, "Say YES!" A little 3-year-old boy in the front pew (under it, actually), spontaneously shouted in response, "YES!" The good monsignor was a little taken aback, as he meant to prepare us all to say yes NEXT Sunday, but since when have you heard of a 3 year old waiting patiently for anything, least of all the Holy Spirit!

That story reminded me of 8:30 Mass a couple of weeks ago. As Father Harris said the words, "This is my body, which will be given up for you" and held up the newly-consecrated host, the silence of the community was broken as a just-turned-3-year-old girl exclaimed, "Mommy! It's a miracle!"

And one last story...

After that mass, a parishioner shared that the previous weekend her husband was heading to Saturday night Mass on his own, because he was taking their toddler son to the grandparents' house the next morning. When the little boy noticed his daddy driving away, he asked, "Where Daddy go?" His mom explained that Daddy was going to Mass, at which point the little boy ran to the front door and tried to put on his shoes in a hurry as he kept repeating, "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!"

Remember, it's not how much you give, but how much of yourself that you give. When we give all we have, God pours out His blessings in abundance!

The Widow's Mite by James Christensen

May the Holy Spirit bless you!
Mandie DeVries, Director of Religious Education

Flowers for Mary

Once, several years ago now, we bought our first house. The previous owners had cultivated a beautiful backyard, which, in the course of the four years that we lived there, I did not manage to completely ruin. Each spring, I would look on in awe at the beauty that was popping out of the ground, unbidden by me, but which was undoubtedly planned and labored for by my talented predecessor.

Having grown up without fresh flowers in my life, my new backyard was an embarrassment of riches. Such wonderful things as "volunteer" tomatoes, fresh chives, lilies, and hostas flourished in that sanctuary. But I will never forget the sweet-smelling, colorful roses.

When the first rose of the year would appear, we had a tradition in our little family to cut it and bring it with us to church. At that time, All Saints only had two Mary statues (I think we're up to five now!) We would go to the statue where the votive candles are lit, and offer the "first fruits" of our garden to our Lady.

Each week, throughout the growing season, we would look to see if there were blooming lilies or roses or other beauties we could set before our Mother as an act of love to her. We did not plant those flowers, but they were still fruits of our garden, and we were happy to offer them as a gift.

Those days, however, are long gone, and unfortunately I still do not have a gardening bone in my body. It has made me sad that my younger girls do not remember that little gesture, because we moved before they were born, and alas, all that's growing in our back yard is grass.

Yet last Sunday, I noticed my Leah (8) running back and forth in the front of the church while we were preparing for the Fire and Mercy musical inside. I saw her skipping and running back and forth from the statue of Mary. I realized she was gathering blossoms from the blooming trees, and dandelions, and whatever else she could find and laying them there at Mary's feet.



So many things about this touched my motherly heart as she completed her task. It was pure joy to see the happiness in her heart as she saw the beauty of the spring and was moved in her spirit to bring that beauty to her Mother as a gift. So simple. So humble. So perfect. Even without a garden, little Leah can find flowers to offer. Flowers for Mary.

Happy Good Shepherd Sunday!

A prayer from a 7 year old in the atrium for you as we celebrate the 4th Sunday of Easter!

Jesus said:
“My sheep hear my voice;
I know them, and they follow me.
I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish.
No one can take them out of my hand.
My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all,
and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand.
The Father and I are one.” John 10:27-30

Living Out the Answer

I remember being a teenager. I wish I could forget sometimes.

It's especially tough to be a teen when an adolescent tornado of hormones and emotions leaves you estranged from your friends and sometimes even your parents.

I remember being made fun of in the lunch room, betrayed by my friends for no other reason than just because they thought it would be funny, and being the target of a group of boys who nicknamed me "Ugly." They didn't call me that, they named me that. I remember driving my parents crazy with my moods and attitude. I could almost say that I barely survived adolescence.

I could almost say that. But it wouldn't be true.

Yes, I thought about suicide. Sometimes, in spite of the fact that I was loved desperately by so many people, I even thought about how I'd do it. But something always stayed my hand. Two things in particular come to mind: Hamlet and a photograph.

I must have studied Hamlet for a short period in the 8th grade, because this line stuck fast to me and wouldn't allow me too much room to contemplate that horrible act:

"O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!"

So that was one thing. God wanted me alive for some reason, even if I hurt like the blazes at the time.

But the second thing gave that first thing its power. You see, knowing God is against something wouldn't have meant much if I didn't deeply believe that God was for real. That second thing was a miracle that ultimately saved my life and made me who I am. It was a photograph.

This image was given to my father decades ago by his boss's wife. She discovered it after she developed her photos of a recent trip to Yugoslavia. She wasn't even Catholic, but the mysterious story of Mary, the Mother of God, appearing to children in Medjugorje, Yugoslavia (present-day Bosnia Herzegovina) was enough to prompt a pilgrimage to the site and to see for herself.

At the end of the trip, this woman took the final exposure of her film: a picture of the mountain where the supposed apparition was taking place. She was quite surprised when she arrived home to find the "woman" had appeared to her as well.

That simple picture of a beautiful woman with a dress of fire and rosary beads coming down from her hands looked to be superimposed over a mountain in the background. It came into my life when I was 7 or 8 years old and has since disappeared. But it was a secure confidence, a strong mooring to the existence of God and His love for little old me. In the dark times of my adolescence, when I couldn't even stand to look at myself, I still felt His loving gaze, and His strong hand holding me steady.

Many years later, when I graduated college, I took a job as a youth minister at a parish near Ames, IA. My job (among other things) was to prepare 10th graders for Confirmation. As part of the process, I interviewed each young person about their faith and understanding of God. One thing I asked each one was this: "If you could ask God one question, what would it be?"

One particular young girl (her name was Whitney), moved me deeply with her response. She said,

"Well, if I can ask Him a question, I suppose that answers the most important question of all: Do You exist? So..." Then she paused and added thoughtfully,

"I guess I'd ask the only thing that mattered:

'How do you want me to serve you?'"

Whitney's insightful answer helped me to realize just how much the powerful knowledge of God's existence had saved my life and given me purpose. I didn't wonder if God existed, because I knew it with my whole heart, mind, soul and strength. Therefore, only one question remained for me to ask Him: "How shall I serve you?"

I've been striving to live out the answer ever since.

What a Holy Week!

I was moved by a few emails/posts from parishioners & catechists who shared about their families' experience with the Holy Week liturgies last week. It is always the aim of our work in Catechesis of the Good Shepherd to assist the child to fuller participation in the mass. These two stories warmed my heart so much I wanted to share them with you!

The first is from a catechist with two boys in our Level I program (3 and 5 years old). She attended Holy Thursday mass with her children and they were so moved by the part where the altar was stripped that they came home and emptied their own little prayer table that they had set up. Usually the prayer table has a cloth (the color had been purple), a bible, a statue, maybe a few prayer cards, and a candle. The mom told me that they took turns taking things off and even folded (!) the prayer cloth. When they were done it looked like this:

Also, on Easter morning I woke up to this jewel in my notifications on Facebook. It was from a catechist with 3 boys between 7 and 12 years old. 

"My family went to Easter Vigil mass last night. I haven't been in a long time, probably talked myself out of it since last time I went when my boys were little, one threw up right in the middle of it! Anyways, my niece was receiving her sacraments last night so we went. 

During mass I was in awe of our CGS program! How the last few years of being involved in CGS had been preparing me and my boys to fully understand and participate not only in Mass each week, but for this Vigil Mass. Every moment gave me a flash of a work from the atrium! I can't explain the feeling I had while I was sitting there - grateful-peaceful-awe-love! 

And it was made even greater when I looked over at my boys and saw their participation. Most of the way home from Ft. Dodge I sat in the car thinking of how awesome our CGS program is!! Not sure why, but this morning I just had to get on here and share with you all how thankful I am that my boys and I are a part of this program!! Happy Easter!! Alleluia!! Alleluia!!"

Easter Blessings on you and your families!

Pirates and Saints

You never know where the work of a Level III child might take you. In this case, it was into the land of movie-making! These boys took their saint research to a whole new level. Even though I'm the director of our program here, I joked that I was a little nervous with all of the noise that my fellow workers in the vineyard might come and take my catechist card. My assistant and I were commenting as they (loudly) rehearsed that these boys were not likely to forget the story of St. Rose any time soon. I don't think I will either!

What would You Choose?

Sometimes a topic really jumps out at the children and the catechists will see a flurry of new and intense work. This last week in Level III was like that. We are about 6 weeks into a Moses study, and in the last couple of weeks, we've seen 3-dimensional representations of the comparison between Egyptian and Hebrew life after the Exodus, lots and lots of interviewing with interesting questions, and some of the kids even got together "after hours" to work on their project. I promised I would print this here.

Hebrew Times

by Madeleine D, Lydia S, Peyton L

We interviewed several people (Jamie C., Bethany D., Mary T., Genny L.) about Hebrew Times and what they would do if they were in place of a Hebrew slave. Most people wanted to follow God, but admitted they would complain they were travelling for forty years with nothing to eat except manna (which is translated to mean “whatch-a-ma-call-it”) and birds [quail].

When Question #2 asked: If you were a Hebrew slave who had just been freed, would you grumble and complain? Mary T. answered, “Probably not at the beginning, but if I were wandering in the desert for forty years, yes.”

We were also curious of what people would think of Moses. Jamie C. answered, “I would think he’s crazy,” and Bethany D. said, ”At the beginning I’d like him, but in the middle not really.”

So what about you? Would you rather have a large spacious many-roomed house with servants and worship many gods (which are hunks of rock) or live in a cramped tent have a hard life and worship the one true god (not a hunk of rock)? Which would you choose? It’s up to you to find out.

Egyptian                         Hebrew
Good house                    Cramped tent
Fertile land                     Desert land
Servants                         No servants
Worship many Gods     Worship one true God

Chose Egyptians         Chose Hebrew
Read Exodus 7-10        Read Exodus 12-15