Category Archives: Prayer and Spirituality

May 13, 2013 · 12:00 am

Moms Need Mentors Too

“I want my Mom!” No, that wasn’t the wail of a four-year- old. . . . It was the inner wail of a young mom with a two-week-old baby, two toddlers under three, and a husband heading out the door for an unavoidable business trip. For the first time in my motherhood, I had more children than hands and felt barely able to take care of myself, much less three very wonderful, but very dependent, children.

My mom, unfortunately, left the week before—headed home 542 miles away to her own family, my dad and my eight younger siblings. My mom needed to be home. I desperately wanted her with me.

It was a lonely moment.

But in my loneliness, I prayed. I asked God to help me find a fellow mom to learn from and lean on.  I hoped for a friend, but a wise friend, one whose footsteps I might follow on this journey of faith called ‘motherhood.’  God provided, all in His perfect time. I met an older mom who gently shepherded me through many a low point, sharing encouragement, wisdom, and, most powerfully, her gift of faith. At two other critical junctures in my life, additional “mentor moms” stepped forward, blessing me with perspective, encouragement, and practical help.

I didn’t have a label for these important women—I just knew I was grateful for their friendship and prayerful encouragement. They (as well as my own mom) made a tremendous difference to my mothering and my own spiritual growth.

A Heartfelt Need

Recently, I asked some blogger friends to pose these questions to their Catholic-mommy readers: “Would you be interested in a mentoring relationship with an older mom, and, if so, what qualities would you look for?”

The floodgates opened.

Mother after young mother posted a reply. Honest, emotional, and hungry, they shared how lonely and difficult motherhood can be. Our fast-moving consumer culture under-appreciates the intangible value of shaping a child’s heart and soul—and these mothers feel keenly that lack of support. In addition, these were Catholic moms, committed not only to raising their children well in secular terms, but also to raising them right in the eyes of God.

They need mentor moms. One young mom, Jenny, put it simply: “I would just love to have someone in real life to whom I could go to with questions or just for encouragement during rough times.” Patrice, a Catholic writer and mother, values a mentor’s sense of perspective and hope: “They can show me that I will live through whatever life stage I’m currently going through with my children.” Emily, an artist and teacher, remembers how overwhelming life seemed as a first-time mom. “In the beginning I was completely sleep-deprived and I just needed to have someone visit me and talk, maybe bring a meal and care about what was going on.” Mary Beth hopes for “someone who is . . . a few steps ahead on the journey of motherhood, someone willing to share wisdom they’ve gained on this journey, [and] who is faith-filled, encouraging, and has a bit of time.” Kate Wicker, a popular blogger whose writing encourages moms daily, summed it up: “What so many of us long for is maternal empathy.”

These moms yearn for basic mothering support, but within the rich context of their lives as Catholic mothers. Yes, they need practical help, but, as Emily says, “combined with prayer and spiritual wisdom.” For a mom like Christine, a mentor mom would build on the foundation laid by her own mother. “My mom was my first and greatest mentor. She shared with me her love for God and our Catholic faith.”

Very few women, though, seem to have their own moms, sisters, or grandmothers nearby. Even those who do, Antonina points out, don’t necessarily find support for a faithful Catholic life. ”We are either too far away from family or have made lifestyle choices that differ dramatically from their experiences, i.e. faith, home schooling, parenting.” Women who were mothered poorly, were not raised Catholic, or whose extended families embrace cafeteria-style Catholicism feel the need for a Catholic mentor mom most acutely. Tosha’s experience is typical: “My generation needs mentor moms! Many of us grew up in broken homes. Our mothers did not pass down any of the ‘female arts’ and homemaking skills that they took for granted. We are left with the Church to guide us and reading about raising a godly family in books and on blogs.”

Divorced Catholic moms face similar struggles—plus more. Lisa Duffy, who ministers to divorced Catholics through her excellent website (www.divorcedcatholic .com), finds that divorced Catholic moms want “what married mothers want . . . to be accepted, not judged, and loved. To not be excluded simply because they are divorced, to not be judged (because oftentimes they have fought valiantly to save their marriage and are divorced against their will), and for other women to be genuinely friendly to them, to listen patiently to them without having answers. Just to be interested and compassionate.”

Today’s young women struggle to raise not only healthy families, but also holy families anchored in Catholicism. They want to know how to:

● love their husbands and children more deeply and sacrificially

● pray and pass on the faith to their children

● raise happy, balanced children

● live the Church’s teachings on marriage and sexuality

● accept their trials, struggles, and mistakes without discouragement or resentment

● become holy, peace-filled moms

They are looking for something akin to spiritual mothering.

A Scriptural Solution: Titus 2:3–5

Elizabeth Foss, a mother of nine and an award-winning blogger, believes that mentoring “re-creates” the extended family culture, allowing experienced moms to pass on the vision, skills, and faith at the heart of Catholic motherhood. It is spiritual motherhood, rooted in Scripture: “Older women . . . are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be sensible, chaste, domestic, kind, and submissive to their husbands, that the word of God may not be discredited” (Tit. 2:3–5).

In addition, Elizabeth points out, mentoring younger moms is a practical way to build the culture of life, “helping moms create strong families that will nurture” life. Emily’s situation provides a case in point: “I want to have a second child. Yet without support, I am scared.” Lack of support for motherhood creates a ripple effect across the lives of women and their families.

So, if younger women are eager to learn, are “older women” available to guide them? I turned to experienced moms and asked. Darby, an active parish volunteer, replied: “I would love to be a mentor. I’m a mother of 4 and a soon-to-be first-time grandmother! My youngest is going off to college in the fall. . . . The empty nest is becoming a reality too soon!” Colleen, whose youngest is in college, recalls John Paul II’s teaching that “every woman is a mother whether she is married or single, with children or without.” Genevieve Kineke, author of The Authentic Catholic Woman, agrees. “We’re called to this. . . . Every woman should be assessing her experiences for the wisdom to be gleaned” and shared, when appropriate.

Some mature moms very naturally share their time and wisdom. For others, it’s not so easy. “That is actually one of the biggest challenges,” shares one mom, “to ask seasoned moms, who have their own busy lives, to sacrifice quality time for younger moms.”

Kate Wicker, who writes beautifully about the generous mentors in her own life, sees humility rather than lack of generosity as the limiting factor. “So many of us long to have a sister in Christ to mentor us; yet we see ourselves as unworthy of ministering to other moms.” Jenn, whose five children range from 2 to 14, interpreted her own loneliness as God’s nudge to serve moms foundering in isolation. “Instead of answering my pleas directly, God has [given me] a passion for assisting other women so they don’t have to ‘go it alone.’”

Genevieve, a seasoned mentor, reassures us that although “women worry about one more demand on their time . . . I find the blessings, rewards, and joys far outweigh the demands and the energy [spent].”

What Makes Mentoring Successful?

Both experienced moms and newer moms identify similar qualities for a successful mentoring-mom relationship.

Be an Example. Nearly all the younger women were drawn first by the veteran mom’s example. A woman mature in the love of Christ, kind and friendly to others, teaches others constantly—and inspires imitation.

Be Real. Megan, a Texas mother of five, cautions, “Young moms need mentors . . . but they need real ones. [Otherwise] the expectations are too high and these poor young moms are left wondering what is wrong with them.” Elizabeth Foss highlights the need to “share your failures, your foibles, for someone else’s benefit. It’s almost impossible to mentor if you’ve set yourself up on a pedestal as someone who never made a mistake.”

Be Humble. Genevieve Kineke notes, “Others will be put off if we think that we are better, smarter, holier. Besides, it’s not true!” Say “I don’t know” if you don’t. Be willing to learn.

Be Empathetic. Seek to understand—to meet her where she is—and help her grow from there. Listen well. And never dismiss the younger mom’s struggles as insignificant.

Be Patient. It takes time for a relationship to grow and for insights to bear fruit. Helpful friendships may move forward before anyone labels it a “mentoring” relationship.

Be Confident. Elizabeth believes that “women are afraid to mentor because they think, ‘I don’t have it all together.’ Ask yourself instead, ‘What’s worked?’ and reflect on that.”

Instill Confidence. A mentor’s goal is not to micromanage or control, but to encourage and guide. Affirm good intuitions and decisions; help her learn from experience.

Be Charitable. No need to air the dirty laundry (about husband, children, mother-in-law, and other women) under the guise of mentoring.

Be Prudent. Tread delicately when it comes to marriage issues, moral questions, and childhood wounds. Know your limitations— and defer to a priest or professional counselor when needed.

Be Open. Moral issues aside, there may be many solutions to a particular issue. Each family is different. Jenny urges mentors “to be open to new or different ideas. . . and to encourage what works. . . . [Do] not judge, but offer constructive, helpful criticism.”

Be Available. Mentoring does not require a 24/7 commitment, but, like other important relationships, it thrives on availability. It takes “consistent time, energy, and vulnerability,” observes one mom. Agree on frequency and mode of communication (phone, email, in-person).

Be Trustworthy. Like any good friendship, a mentoring relationship requires trust. Keep confidences confidential.

Create the Opportunity

What’s the best way for mentoring relationships to develop? DeAnn, a home schooling mom, suggests “a balance between forming natural relationships with people that you are drawn to and doing so through an organized means provided by a church or home schooling group.” Moms on both sides of the relationship seem to find relationships that develop organically, arising naturally from situations that bring moms of a variety of ages together, most appealing. This requires, however, that moms of all ages “tune in” to both needs and opportunities. Dawn, another homeschooler, observes that “more experienced moms in our group who could be a great source of wisdom . . . tend to ‘hang out’ with each other and not with the younger moms. . . . I think it’s just that they have more in common with each other. They may not be aware that some of us would really like to form mentoring friendships!”

Conversely, younger moms must be careful not to prejudge, ruling out a good mentor in favor of an illusory “perfect” one. “My ideal mentor,” says Melanie, “would be a woman whose personality is similar to mine. . . . On the other hand . . . sometimes a woman who is very different in personality and in life situation may still have much wisdom to dispense. Perhaps the people we wouldn’t choose for ourselves are the very women God would put into our lives to challenge us, to help us grow and change beyond what we can imagine for ourselves.”

So what situations might bring women of all ages together? Anything that meets the practical needs of moms and family life. Elizabeth Foss suggests anyone with a heart for mentoring consider making herself available to new moms. “Bring meals to a woman after a baby is born,” suggests Elizabeth, “and strike up a conversation, telling them ‘I remember when . . .’ Offer perspective.”

Any parish ministry offers possibilities. One pastor let a parishioner teach free aerobics classes at the parish so moms could attend with their kids. Older women came as well, and mentoring relationships were born. Similarly, in another parish, a grandmother who teaches Atrium to four-year-olds lingers to chat with moms as they pick up their kids. They, in turn, seek her wisdom on all sorts of topics.

Sacramental preparation creates prime opportunities for mature moms to connect with younger moms on a sustained basis. In some dioceses, baptism classes for new parents are taught by couples who remain in touch even after the baptism. Similarly, Amy from Minnesota finds that, although she is only 31, “people that have come to me as a ‘mentor’ noticed me mostly because I have volunteered as the confirmation teacher at our parish for 10 years and take those children as my own.”

Sometimes mentoring relationships begin right next door. Maryan remembers living with her husband in military housing, right next door to “a family of 6 kids. . . . Being away from my mom (who would be a natural mentor), I was so consoled to have Joan right next door to answer all diaper, first aid, discipline, and home schooling questions. . . . Her mentorship to me was invaluable.”

As Internet-connected lifestyles become the norm, moms are plugging in to mentoring opportunities online, discovering relationships through influential mom-bloggers or social media, like Facebook and Twitter. According to the latest stats, web-savvy moms typically log on at least three—and sometimes up to a dozen—times a day. No wonder that many Catholic women increasingly turn to these virtual relationships for advice, encouragement, and support. One woman shared, “The Lord has slowly worked to mold and soften my heart for motherhood, and I truly believe that [a momblogger] played a large role in that, even though we have never met. . . . In the conversation about mentor-moms, Internet friendships must be included.”

Similarly, Kate Wicker writes, “I continue to be grateful for the online community and how it has allowed me to connect so many godly women. . . . Finding the right fit for a mentor . . . is in some ways easier online. We simply have access to more moms with just a click of a mouse.”

“Perhaps the reality is that there are different types of mentoring relationships that suit different needs, and we might have several different women who mentor us in different ways at different times in our lives. For me,” writes Melanie, “there are some distinct advantages to an online versus a ‘real life’ mentoring relationship. I am an intensely private person. . . . I often find it much easier to write about my interior struggles than I would to voice the same sorts of concerns to a friend over coffee. It would take years and years to build up that kind of trust and friendship and, frankly, I need help now.”

Finally, ministries that focus on pregnant teens or underprivileged women clamor for women to volunteer as mentor moms. Colleen, who works with Birthright, encourages moms to be “solid role models for these women to move out of a lifestyle pattern their moms and grandmoms have lived and are handing on.”

Are Catholic mentor moms needed? Absolutely. Hungry hearts are waiting. Genevieve Kineke offers two final thoughts to women who wonder whether to serve as a mentor mom. First, “It’s because we’re not perfect that we can do this,” and second, “Be not afraid to open your heart to one more soul.”

We will never regret giving of ourselves to others. And to my own mom, and the moms who have given to me so generously over the years . . . I cannot thank you enough! Happy Mother’s Day!

A version of this article was first published in the May/Jun 2010 Issue of Lay Witness Magazine, under the title “Catholic Mentor Moms—How to Find One, How to Be One.”

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February 11, 2013 · 1:21 pm

Pope Benedict XVI and the Call to Conscience

Momentous news this morning—Pope Benedict XVI announced that he is resigning as of February 28, 2013.   It’s the first time in nearly 600 years that a Pope has resigned rather than die while still serving as Pope.

In a surprise statement, Pope Benedict announced that, “After having repeatedly examined my conscience before God, I have come to the certainty that my strengths, due to an advanced age, are no longer suited to an adequate exercise of the Petrine ministry.”

I’m struck by three points:

First, Benedict’s humility. Benedict’s decision is grounded first and foremost in his fidelity to God. His conscience called him to step down…and he responded with a humble “yes.” Known as a man of formidable intellect and deep prayer, he is also no stranger to suffering. There’s no doubt that he would willingly bear the duties of leadership, in spite of exhaustion and struggle, if he could do justice to those responsibilities.

Throughout history, countless leaders in both business and government have held onto high positions even as their physical capacities have waned. They have simply surrounded themselves with more advisors and surrogates, delegating functions of greater and greater significance.

But Papal leadership—and its demands—cannot be grasped by a glance at the ceremonial duties, administrative meetings, and private consultations that fill Benedict’s schedule. Nor by the hours spent celebrating liturgies or traveling to far-flung dioceses all over the world. At heart, the Pope is a Shepherd, guided by the Holy Spirit’s whisper, following in the footsteps of St. Peter, and embracing the servant leadership of our Lord Jesus Christ. He ministers “for the sake of others,” for the good of the whole Church.

Recognizing the “essential spiritual nature” of the Papacy, Benedict sought to know God’s will—and embraced what he was shown.  For John Paul II, God’s will was to suffer greatly and carry on as Pope. For Benedict, God’s will is to suffer greatly but “with full freedom,” and for the good of the Church, to “renounce the ministry of Bishop of Rome, Successor of Saint Peter.”

Humility, the spiritual giants have taught us, means recognizing the truth about God—His infinite greatness—and the truth about ourselves. And it means trusting the Scriptures that “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9) Sometimes that means receiving the grace to plow through adversity. And other times, as for Pope Benedict, it means receiving the grace to acknowledge weakness with great humility, and then stepping back so another may lead.

Second, the blessings of our institutional Church. There’s no doubt that Benedict’s decision—which he described as “of great importance for the life of the Church” —was guided by the Holy Spirit. And the choice of his successor will be guided the same way.

The news media is already framing the choice of Benedict’s successor in political terms, stirring speculation about leading contenders and voting alliances within the College of Cardinals.  It’s great sport and pleases an audience hungry for news. But it’s irrelevant.

As the Catholic Catechism reminds us, “The one sent by the Lord does not speak and act on his own authority, but by virtue of Christ’s authority; not as a member of the community, but speaking to it in the name of Christ. No one can bestow grace on himself; it must be given and offered.”

God’s in charge. And He’s chosen to work through the grace-filled structure of our institutional Church.  Indeed, Benedict’s statement reminds us of God’s sovereignty over His Church: “[L]et us entrust the Holy Church to the care of Our Supreme Pastor, Our Lord Jesus Christ, and implore his holy Mother Mary, so that she may assist the Cardinal Fathers with her maternal solicitude, in electing a new Supreme Pontiff.”

Let’s pray that our Cardinals hear the whisper of the Holy Spirit, and heed God’s will with the humility shown by Pope Benedict.

Third, great challenges lie ahead. As Pope Benedict himself warned just a few short months ago, the world is losing its sense of humanity because it is losing its sense of God.

“When the freedom to be creative becomes the freedom to create oneself, then necessarily the Maker himself is denied and ultimately man too is stripped of his dignity as a creature of God, as the image of God at the core of his being. The defence of the family is about man himself. And it becomes clear that when God is denied, human dignity also disappears. Whoever defends God is defending man.” (Address of Pope Benedict XVI to the Roman Curia, Dec. 21, 2012)

And that will be the huge task confronting the next Pope: to defend not only God but also the dignity of the human person, in a world that has so lost sight of God, that it no longer understands its own humanity.

Pope Benedict has been a tireless defender of God, the Church, and the dignity of the human person.  He will be missed. And we can be grateful that, even after his Pontificate ends, he will continue to serve the Church “through a life dedicated to prayer.”

Like Benedict, let’s turn in hope to our God and our Church…and await the manifestation of the Holy Spirit. And in the meantime, also like Benedict, let’s respond faithfully to God’s call on our own consciences.

This column was first posted February 11, 2013 at Catholic Stand. 

 

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February 22, 2012 · 5:08 pm

A Catholic vote for Obama: Is it a sin? A sign of co-dependency?

If a Catholic you love insists that President Obama is still the best man for the job in 2012, then gather your right-thinking friends and family around them: it’s time for an intervention.

First, you might wonder, are there really any Catholics still in the Obama camp? Plenty, unfortunately.

A recent Gallup poll showed that Obama’s maneuvering on the HHS regulations hasn’t cost him much, if any, Catholic support. Even regular Church-goers (46% of them) continue to back the President, counting him more friend than foe.

Think of the kind-hearted, stubbornly optimistic Catholics you know who insist that President Obama is really a good guy–that we should give him another chance to get it right. You know, the middle-aged social worker who drives to Sunday Mass in a Toyota Prius sporting an Obama bumper sticker. Or the bird-watching professor who praises the compassionate features of Obamacare as he sips coffee in the lounge after daily Mass.

Obama-Catholics insist that, despite actions to the contrary, Obama deeply respects religious freedom and abhors abortion. (And besides, they murmur, who really cares what the Bishops think about birth control?) They still plan to vote for Obama, in spite of the lingering sting from his slap in the face to Catholics–and other believers–whose consciences resist being forced to pay for other people’s abortion-causing drugs. These Obama-Catholics have put all that behind them in light of Obama’s respectful “compromise.” (It’s worth noting, that President Obama’s grand speech declaring that insurance companies, not religious organizations, would be forced to pay for contraceptives, sterilizations, and abortion-inducing drugs, was just speechifying—a promise of fig leaves to come. No rules have actually been changed yet.)

Yes, our good, but misguided, friends are ripe for an intervention. They need help.

By the way, I sadly think it’s past the intervention point for the Doug Kmiecs or Sr. Carol Keehans of the world—their disappointment over the initial conscience-quashing HHS regulations proved but a momentary (strategic?) pause in their unrestrained adulation of Obama-the-good. A promised cosmetic change to the regulations and they both inhaled deeply—again—and floated back into the elevated status of Obama-believers, those who know better than the rest of us that the great Barack “understands the truth of a human person” and rules accordingly.

No, let’s tend to the average person of faith, naïve perhaps, but unwilling to desert the first African-American President, whom they see as an upright family man with a big vision and a very, very hard job.  It’s time to have a sit-down with these people, particularly Catholics, and help them admit they’ve reached rock bottom in this relationship with Obama. It’s time to let go.

How to help your friends see the light? Two excellent articles provide food for thought, from two different angles: sin and psychology.

In Carrie Severino’s light-hearted, but pointed, column over at the Daily Beast, she argues that Catholics who remain enamored of President Obama exhibit the classic signs of co-dependency in an abusive relationship.

And over at his new blog, Notre Dame Law Professor and constitutional law expert Charles E. Rice (my father) makes a compelling case that our Catholic Bishops, individually, as an expression of their personal conviction, ought to tell Catholics in the pew that to vote for Obama would be a sin—an act deeply offensive to God.

Provocative, no?

Read and tell me: What do you think?

 

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January 7, 2012 · 10:01 pm

Nick Vogt: “I love to be alive!”

You gotta love this guy’s heart and indomitable spirit!

Nick Vogt’s family posted this update a few days ago:

Nick had a good day today although we were told that last night he gave the med staff a hard time (agitated and depressed). Today he had a lot going on and did a good job “keeping up”. The med staff is doing a good job of letting him sleep. When he wakes up the several medical teams storm him to get their work done. They are all doing a great job. Besides the several required medical jobs that had to be done today Nick’s day included a few additional activities like: a stroll around the ICU hallways in his powered wheelchair with him doing the driving. (Not one mark on the walls along the way. He did great.) Enjoying music from his own Ipod. (It has made it back from Afghanistan.) Watched some Taylor Swift concert on DVD. Watched some X-Men movie on DVD. But my personal favorite moment of the day (make that the week) was when, while killing some time, he thought he would try to write something. So we grabbed a pen and paper and after much effort he wrote, “I love to be alive”. I said,” me too” and gave him a kiss on the head. More answered prayers. God is good. Thank you St. Anthony patron Saint of Amputees.

God truly does hear our prayers!  Please continue to pray for healing for Nick and share his and his family’s joy in the goodness of life! And thank God for their powerful witness to faith and the great gift of life…

 

 

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December 13, 2011 · 12:06 am

Lt. Nick Vogt and the Power of Faith

Nick Vogt’s alive. And that’s a miracle.

It’s a dramatic story of heart-stopping injuries and inexplicable survival—and a simultaneous testimony of tenacious faith and the power of prayer. Nick’s horrendous suffering touched the hearts of his hometown community, the far-flung military family, and Catholics everywhere. And the mysterious interplay between setbacks and miraculous interventions has swelled the ranks of spiritual warriors praying on Nick’s behalf, all around the globe.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Let me tell you about Nick.

A handsome, athletic young man, Nick turns 24 today (December 13th). He has the lean muscles of a runner and the kind eyes of a big brother—his four younger siblings think he’s “one of the most amazing human beings” ever. One of those rare people liked by everyone, Nick reflects his parents’ strong values of family and faith. Devout Catholics, Nick’s parents–Steve and Sheila–wove faith into the normal fabric of life: a crucifix in every room, nightly prayers together at bedtime, and grace before meals. “God has been a part of our everyday life since day one,” says Olivia, Nick’s 22-year-old sister. And He remains so, now more than ever.

One month ago, the young lieutenant with the strong jaw and easy grin led his platoon on patrol in a still-dangerous corner of Afghanistan. It was a mission cut short. Nick stepped on a pressure-triggered explosive device (IED) hidden in the dirt beneath his feet. The lethal trap—purposely set for American soldiers–exploded under Nick, tore off his legs, and left his life hanging in the balance.

Nick should be dead, the doctors told his family later, if not from the explosion then from the precarious surgeries that followed. He suffered such severe wounds that his heart stopped several times as doctors operated to stanch the massive bleeding.

Medicine rejoices in miracles, but doesn’t expect them.

Believers do.

Jesus promised that, “Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” (Matt. 6:8). And Scripture says, “For God nothing will be impossible.” (Luke 1:37).

Even as his family sent that first urgent message–begging for prayers for Nick–to friends, parishioners, and neighbors in Bethlehem, Ohio, God surrounded Nick with exactly the people he needed.

A skilled medic, Spc. Thomas Underhill, saved Nick’s life in the intense aftermath of the blast. The military surgeons in Afghanistan, forced to amputate the torn limbs, fought tirelessly to stabilize Nick as he continued losing blood. Soldiers on base, responding to an emergency midnight appeal, sprinted over to give blood for Nick. The urgency of saving one of their own overcame their exhaustion, and the line of war-weary soldiers stretched a city block. (Before leaving the war zone, Nick needed 400 units of blood, 100 more followed later– the highest total of any wartime patient.)

Miraculously, Nick survived.

Parents will tell you that the thought of a son or daughter suffering alone is almost unbearable. The planes fly too slowly, the miles stretch too far, and the war zone delays their bedside vigil. But while Nick lay unconscious in critical care, God was there. According to his sister Olivia, “soldiers who did not even know Nick would sit with him for hours just holding his hand …just so he wasn’t alone. All for my brother who had been there not even 3 months… The amount of love from his and other soldiers there was unbelievable.” Nick needed comfort; bonded by war, his brothers in combat took turns by his side. The faith of his family and the prayers from back home brought angels to keep watch.

As people prayed, God answered again and again, in awesome power and love. In the days just after the explosion, Nick needed repeated surgeries. His sister Olivia said. “Every doctor…said he should not be alive after all he went through.” But God was not ready to call Nick home.

In fact, Olivia says, Nick’s dad jokes that Nick himself must have insisted on more time. As an officer fiercely protective of his men, Nick “was famous for going up the ladder of superiors until he got the answer he wanted.” It’s not hard to imagine that “when his heart stopped in the operating room, Nick must have gone straight to the top and respectfully asked God, ‘With all due respect, Sir, I’m not done down there, so could you please send me back?’”

Nick is back–resilient Nick, powered by a loving heart, a tenacious will, and the vigilant prayers of hundreds, even thousands, of people he’s never met.

Last week, Sheila Vogt posted this glimpse of Nick’s indomitable spirit: “He has a big day in the OR today.  He was chomping at the bit to get in there and just kept looking at the surgeon teams coming in his room and mouthing the words, ‘Let’s do it.’ Even as injured as he is, he still seems to be the Nick we all know and love.” Thumbs up, powering through the pain, determined to do what it takes–that’s Nick.

Never afraid of hard work, Nick excelled in school, sports, and the army, always doing more than was asked.  Why serve? Because it was his dream, his calling. “When he was six years old he wanted his first flat top hair cut,” said Olivia, “He had already decided he wanted to be in the army. From that point on he never second-guessed that.”

As his West Point years drew to a close, Nick mulled over the next step: medical school or deployment.  He opted to postpone medical school—for the sake of his future patients.  He told his mom that he’d go to war first, so that when he treated wounded warriors in the future, he would know first-hand what they had faced.

In God’s plan, there is no “what if?” He knows the “why?” and the “what comes next?” What we know is that God’s promise endures: He “works all things to the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose.” (Rom. 8:28). God’s got a mighty plan for this selfless young soldier.

Our culture blindly denies the value of life “burdened” by imperfection, disability, or suffering. But that’s not how his family sees it. They see the son and brother they love and for whose life they are profoundly grateful.

The Bible says, “Give thanks in all circumstances.” (1 Thess. 5:18) No easy task for us mortals; it requires divine perspective. In the midst of their grief and worry for Nick, his mom and dad gave thanks to God for the greatest gift—Nick’s life. In a Thanksgiving Day post, Sheila wrote, “Steve and I went to Thanksgiving Mass today in the hospital chapel. Our prayers of thanks this year have…a much more powerful sincereness. God has blessed us with a most ultimate gift – some more time with Nick.”

Nick’s life is truly a gift for others.  When the time is right, I hope Nick discovers…

–The spiritual fervor he’s inspired every day since his injury.  Countless adults, children, and peers hit their knees every day to pray for him.  Even people who haven’t prayed much over the years hear Nick’s story and reach out again to their Father in heaven.  “God, please heal Nick. Guide his doctors, comfort his siblings, and strengthen his parents.  We’re looking for miracles, Lord.” If only our lives drew others towards Christ with the same intensity.

–The gift of joy he gives his parents, doctors, and siblings each time he smiles, signals thumbs up, or delights in a favorite song. It’s a gift multiplied and received by hundreds who check on him daily through Facebook, receive emails from the incredible network of military families, and read the posts on his parish’s website. I wonder, do the rest of us give others such pure joy?

–The seeds of humble trust planted in the hearts of many, as God answers their prayers for Nick. On Dec. 7th, Nick’s dad wrote: “Nick`s recovery has gotten more difficult. …It turns out that a blood clot had formed in his brain … He went into emergency surgery last night and the clot was removed. This latest injury had me praying hard for Nick and to give us strength against falling into despair. Within an hour of my prayer for strength we had a visitor, a friend of Nick`s who happened to be here for other business. [He] had this type of injury a while back and looks great. My prayer was answered again. I now see that this injury can also be overcome. Thanks for your support and please continue your prayers.” Would that we all trusted in God’s strength, not our own.

–His impact on his siblings’ faith. In the midst of her family’s suffering, Nick’s sister Olivia said, “In a situation like this it is easy to blame God and ask why did it have to happen to such a good person? If anything, this has brought us closer to God. We’ve seen miracles lately happening to Nick. When doctors themselves say he should not be alive, there is a reason he is. And our family and friends believe it’s because of prayer…. For any one who has, is, or will go through this, you have to learn to trust in God and in prayer.” In pain? Trust God. Turn to Him.

—The inexpressible significance of his love. Nick awoke ten days after the explosion, the doctors stabilized him, and the military flew him and his parents to the U.S. for the next phase of treatment. Unable to talk, Nick looked at his parents next to him on the plane and mouthed to them the only words that mattered. “I love you guys!” Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things (1 Cor. 13:7). Lord, help us love like that!

To those of you just learning about Nick, Olivia says, “My family first and foremost would ask for prayers from people. They’ve got us so far already but he has a very long way to go.”

Nick faces the constant threat of deadly infection and many months of intensive rehabilitation. His family’s journey will continue on its wild ride–the ordinary and the miraculous—but it’s a journey they won’t make alone.

Moved by the urgency of Nick’s daily struggle, thousands of people will walk and talk with God more deeply today. They will thank God for the gift of life—no matter how broken and vulnerable—and beg mercy, healing, and strength for Nick, his family, and our military.

And you…will you pray too?

Will you share his story with friends, so they will pray too?

It’s a small–but powerfully big–way to say thanks.

Financial support for wounded soldiers can be sent to Fisher House or the Wounded Warrior Project.  Donations to support Nick’s recovery can be sent to: Lieutenant Nicholas Vogt Hope Fund
c/o Sacred Heart of Jesus Church
5742 State Route 61 South,
Shelby, Ohio 44875

© 2011 Mary Rice Hasson

Photos courtesy of Olivia Vogt

Permission granted for republication, in whole or part, with attribution.

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October 6, 2011 · 4:35 pm

Reaching Teens: The Priest Who Roared

It’s hard to impress a sixteen-year-old boy.

And it’s even harder to impress a sixteen-year-old boy with a Sunday homily.

But on a recent Sunday, a priest at our parish (we’ll call him “Fr. Joe”) did just that.

“Hey, you know that visiting priest, mom?  He was on fire. It was like one of those old fire and brimstone deals. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Neither, apparently, had most of the other teens in the Church.  Or even most of the adults, most likely.

His topic?

Pop culture…and its brazen efforts to normalize sexual perversity. Not an easy topic on which to engage teenagers positively and persuasively.

Teens too easily put on mental headphones and tune out “predictable” grown ups. “Yeah, yeah.  Back in the day…lecture 192.” Besides haven’t adults always complained about rock-n-roll, teen culture, fashions, and the like? It’s just a generational thing.

But when a priest grabs their attention, keeps them listening—and gives them something meaty to take home and chew on–it’s worth noticing what works.

So what went right?

For starters, Fr. Joe got their attention. He didn’t glide gently into his topic. He fairly roared. He spoke passionately, compelling attention by the volume and certitude in his voice. His voice conveyed the unspoken message: ‘Listen up. This is important. The stakes are high: your soul and our culture hang in the balance.’

Father Joe wasn’t angry and out of control.  But he was vehement, concerned, and loud. Troubled about the likely future of our culture, he insisted that his listeners respond, in their own lives, to what he was saying.

Look at it this way:  kids understand passion. Celebrities, teachers, coaches, and websites encourage our teens to discover their passion and pursue it, to find what matters to them, and to be a voice for it. But if a priest or youth leader addresses sexual morality or serious cultural problems with the same bland tone of the weekly “doughnuts-and-coffee-in-the-parish-hall-after-all-Masses” announcement, few teens will listen.

And why should they?  The speaker’s tone of voice implicitly says, “I know you’re not listening but, bear with me, I’m required to say this.”

Hardly a way to inspire teens to risk their popularity, face humiliation, or endure rejection because they stand up for truth.

A priest who roars, on the other hand, gets their attention.  Don’t cringe. I’m not advocating a weekly rant or ear-splitting homilies.  But our teachers, pastors, and ministers need to command attention and one way to do that is to let loose with the change-up pitch.  Be unpredictable. A dropped voice, a whispering tone, or compelling rhetoric does the trick too.

What else worked about Fr. Joe’s homily?

He used specific words, pointed criticisms, and concrete analogies. Gay marriage?  It’s like Grape Nuts: neither grape nor nuts. Gay marriage isn’t “gay”—the homosexual lifestyle teems with unhappiness, depression, disease, and substance abuse. And it isn’t “marriage” either. Marriage has a centuries old meaning that cannot be changed by popular vote—it requires the faithful sexual intimacy of a man and woman, united permanently to parent the children born of their intimacy. Two women and a turkey baster (or two guys and a rented womb) can’t compare.

Dozens of times a day, the culture pulses seductive, destructive messages to our kids—through music, videos, websites, peer conversations, the media and our schools.  (Read Mary Beth Hicks’ excellent new book Don’t Let the Kids Drink the Kool-Aid, and you’ll see the problem.)

Teens need us to respect them enough to provide reasons why certain acts are immoral.  Forget the euphemisms. Give them the words to defend traditional morality and provide the examples that challenge the lies behind accepted cultural ‘wisdom.’ If we want our teens to rebuff the culture’s assault on morality, then we need to tackle the other side’s arguments head on. Where else will our teens hear the truth, if not from their families and the Church?

Kudos to Fr. Joe for tackling tough subjects, with passion, clarity, and certitude.

I hope there’s more where that came from—in your parish and mine–for the sake of all our kids.

© 2011 Mary Rice Hasson

 

Mary Rice Hasson, the mother of seven, is a Visiting Fellow in Catholic Studies at the Ethics and Public Policy Center, Washington, D.C.

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May 11, 2011 · 12:10 pm

Sudden Death. Life Perfectly Timed.

Mary Hamann

Sudden death.

The loss of a beloved friend, without warning, rips a gaping hole in the memory-rich fabric of life.

Mary Murphy Hamann, my college roommate, longtime friend, and one of the most cheerful people I’ve ever met, died on Good Friday in a remote village in Paraguay.

Her plan? To attend her daughter’s wedding there and meet the Paraguayan in-laws. But God planned otherwise.  Mary hemorrhaged unexpectedly from a hidden, life-threatening tumor, just one day before her daughter’s wedding.

Nothing could have saved her. Even if she’d been stateside, the end result would have been the same.  Her close-knit family–husband, four adult children, seven surviving siblings, in-laws, and dozens of nieces and nephews–reeled from the blow, in shock and grief.

But the days that followed found them steadied by the mercy of God’s grace and the hope born of faith.

It was her time.

I remember once, thirty years earlier, when Mary told me, “It’s time.”

Only then it was “time” to marry her high school sweetheart, Mike—a decision that seemed as ill-timed (to others) as her death now thirty years later.

Just 19 when Mike slipped the engagement ring on her finger, Mary married at 20. No shotguns involved, just a young couple in love and ready to team up for life. “He’s the one,” Mary told me, “It’s time.”

So she married and left school, taking a job that would support them both while Mike spent his last two years at Notre Dame.

The young feminists in our dorm sizzled with outrage. Clearly appalled, one driven engineer-to-be expressed her indignation—on Mary’s behalf–to me. “She’s got a 3.9! Why is she leaving school?  Why doesn’t he leave school so she can finish?”

Mary’s decision made no sense to the career-oriented, high-achievers of the 80’s. Forget the balancing act. Marriage and motherhood were obstacles to career success.

Some imagined a he-versus-she wrestling match over dominance and ambition, with Mary finally yielding.  Others carped that Mary’s conservative beliefs and traditional Catholicism must be at fault. “What a waste.” They lamented their friend’s all-but-certain future: talents undeveloped and opportunities lost, all sacrificed at the altar of marriage and motherhood.

Poor Mary.

“Poor Mary” never looked back.  Her sureness emerged from a prayerful heart intent on one question: ”What is the Lord’s will for me?”

The answer didn’t come instantly. She prayed for months, her rosary often slipping from her sleeping hand, down from her top bunk onto mine below. The Lourdes Grotto at Notre Dame held dozens of candle stubs lit by a young woman in search of God’s will. And her commitment to daily Mass—at noon or 5 pm—often meant the ultimate sacrifice for a college student: settling for the dregs of cafeteria food. Limp lettuce and rubbery burgers, at best. (One long-winded homily and she’d miss the meal entirely!)

God must have been tickled to see a young heart madly in love, but so willing to ask what He wanted. And Mary delighted in His answer—yes, marry Mike.

It was time.

More importantly, her question, “What’s your will for me, Lord?” wasn’t a one-timer.  It was the recurring theme of her life. (Mike’s life too, for that matter.)

And indeed, it’s interesting how life turned out.

Mary’s first job gave way to full-time motherhood, with one girl and three boys in quick succession. Unfazed by muddy feet and shoes gone AWOL, Mary’s contagious laughter bubbled over in daily life. As her peers got big jobs and even bigger signing bonuses, Mary changed diapers, hugged toddlers, and shrugged off thoughts of what-might-have-been.

Then, supplementing Mike’s teaching job, she resumed part-time work, often from home, with stints in copywriting, advertising, and political campaigns. In short order, resourcefulness paired with economic necessity and gave birth to a successful family business in marketing and communications.

Funny how God works.  As Mary followed the thread of God’s will, woven among family needs and life’s opportunities, her creative talents flourished, her professional skills sharpened, and her entrepreneurial spirit grew. She picked up the classes she needed, then came full circle, landing back at Notre Dame in a job she loved—Director of Communications in the Mendoza College of Business. For ten years, as her children moved into adulthood, she edited an award-winning magazine and played a central role in her husband’s successful entre into politics.

Even by feminist standards, it was a quality resume for a mom of four.

But her accomplishments aren’t the real story.

When Mary died, God didn’t read her obituary.  He read her heart.

That’s the story too easily missed. Her heart had grown more in love with Him over the years, not by adding up achievements but by asking that question, “What’s your will for me, Lord?”

It’s a question that I, for one, ought to ask more often.

Because that simple question—“What’s your will for me, Lord?”—purifies the heart. And our sincere (though surely imperfect) response to that question, over and over, defines a life well lived.

In hindsight, Mary’s life was not only well lived, but perfectly timed.

And so was her death. It was her time, because it was God’s time.  It’s the only way Mary would have wanted it.

© 2011  Mary Rice Hasson

 

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January 1, 2011 · 7:23 am

New Year’s Resolutions, Hand-Delivered By a Four-Foot Elf

Noiselessly, the door opened a few inches and a young, freckle-faced nurse peeked in.

Speaking to my teenage son, who was propped up on pillows in bed, she asked cheerfully, “Are you up for a visit from one of Santa’s elves?”

He paused.  I could see the doubt on his face. After all, he’s long past the age when a visit from Santa’s elves would light up his eyes.

But it’s Christmas Eve, he’s sick, feeling glum, and still in the hospital. Besides, the nurse seems so eager to spread Christmas cheer.

He shrugged and half-smiled. “Sure, why not.”

A second later, the nurse opened the door widely and announced, “Santa’s elves!”

I expected a jolly man in a red suit or middle-aged hospital volunteers in Santa hats.

But with a soft shuffle, a little boy appeared in the doorway.  About five years old and four feet tall, he was dressed in Sunday best–a striped button-down shirt, nice pants and dress shoes.

Eyes wide and serious, he held a gift in outstretched arms, approached the bed, and earnestly lisped, “Merry Chrithmith!”

It was impossible not to smile.  The boy’s sincere gesture, so simple, toppled the walls pain had built around my son’s heart.

In one poignant moment, my son’s face visibly softened.  Touched, he spoke gently as he reached forward to receive the gift from the younger boy. “Thank you.  Thank you so much.”

The nurse spoke up. “Tyler was a patient here last Christmas.  He knows what it’s like to be in the hospital, instead of home, at Christmas. So he and his family brought popcorn and a movie for each of our pediatric patients to enjoy tonight. Merry Christmas!”

Only then did we notice the rest of the family crowding the doorway: two older brothers, about 10 and 12, a sweet-looking mom, and a dad carrying a Santa-sized black bag.  It was filled with Christmas gift bags of popcorn, DVDs, and assorted candies—enough for every patient on the floor, their families, and probably the nurses too.

Their kindness warmed the room. We chatted a moment. The mom and dad’s faces shared wordlessly their own gratitude–remembering their trials one year ago–and their tender concern for our ordeal. We thanked them again and, then, with a rustle of bags and murmurs of “Merry Christmas,” they disappeared through the doorway, on to the next room.

But the happy glow remained.

It’s New Year’s Day, and we’re home now. My son’s on the mend, but the unexpected kindness of this family replays over and over in my mind’s eye–a personal video, a new Christmas classic.  And it’s on in the background as I take stock of the year past and make resolutions for the year ahead.

On the threshold of the New Year, one Huffington Post writer scoffed at the idea that anybody ever keeps altruistic New Year’s resolutions—or does much good of any sort for selfless motives. Her advice: “[B]e selfish when you consider volunteer opportunities.” By selecting the ones that offer the most selfish benefits, she predicts, “you’ll end up acting selfless.”

“Acting” selfless is the goal? Only selfishness can motivate us to do good?

What a shame she’s never met people like Tyler’s family.  I’m willing to bet there weren’t any selfish inducements to come out in the bitter cold on Christmas Eve, as a family, to cheer up children they didn’t know—children who didn’t expect to see anyone that night. Tyler’s family could have stayed home, cozy and snug, and we’d never have known. They might have congratulated themselves for their good intentions, bemoaned the cold night, and continued their own Christmas festivities.

But they didn’t. Instead, they spent hours preparing gifts, then dressing the kids nicely, bundling them against the cold, and declining invitations for Christmas Eve parties or last-minute shopping. They had no audience to applaud them, not even a cheery group of fellow volunteers to turn it into a “service project” with delegated tasks of shopping or filling gift bags, topped off by refreshments for all when the good deed was done.

Nope, just a family, sincerely doing good. Their pain, anxiety, and prayers—remembered a year later—were transformed into the gift of kindness and compassion towards strangers.

And that’s a lesson to inspire my resolutions for this year.

How many small, meaningful gifts of time do I fail to give because selfish distractions drown out the Spirit’s quiet prompts? How many simple impulses towards kindness are overridden by practical objections? And how many daily opportunities to do good drown in the well of good intentions?

Next year, at least, I hope I can say, “Fewer than before.”

To you, Tyler, and your family, thanks!

And to everyone, have a very happy New Year…!

(c) 2011 Mary Rice Hasson

Read more of Mary’s columns at Catholic News Agency.

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September 9, 2010 · 3:47 pm

Moms: Trying to Be Perfect?

I called home for Mom and Dad’s 54th wedding anniversary.  Mom answered, a bit breathless, and started off with an apology. “Sorry, I’m out of breath.  I was just vacuuming.  You should see the dog hairs…they’re shedding all over the place.”

Nothing remarkable about that, except that Mom’s scheduled to have major surgery tomorrow, risky surgery. But with two collies shedding their beautiful fur all over the place now, vacuuming wins out over worrying–and resting.  Mom’s got an engine that rarely sputters and never quits.  She needed that strength to raise ten of us.

We talked a bit, joked back and forth and then somehow the conversation turned around to her.  I just had to tell her, once more. “Thanks, Mom. You’re a great mom.”

She got serious for a moment, paused, and then stated simply, “You take what you’ve been given and you do the best you can with it. I’m not rich like Paris Hilton and I’m not a saint like Mother Teresa…But you do the best you can with what you’ve got.”

One thing’s for sure: Mom’s philosophy of “do the best you can with what you’ve got” had practical application when we were growing up. Unexpected company coming and not much meat to go around?  She’d add more sauce or potatoes, and say “FHB,” or “family hold back.” You do the best you can. Wearing K-mart sneakers in my first high school state track meet? Just run faster. “You do the best you can with what you’ve got.” (K-mart showed well. I doubt Nike could have done any better.)  Overwhelmed by a math test, history quiz, and a paper due, all on the same day? “Do the best you can.” (To which she was likely to add, however, “Just get the damn things done.”)

But it wasn’t until I became a mom myself, that I understood the meaning behind her words more deeply.  “Doing the best we can with what we’ve got” means taking stock of “what we’ve got,” both humanly and spiritually–and realizing that perfection is impossible.

Our limitations don’t hide for long.  We see them when we’re bone-weary from the day’s work, but more work awaits; when we’re bewildered, sensing that something’s wrong with a child, a relationship, or a situation, but we don’t know what; when we face decisions that need experience, expertise, or time that we don’t have; and when we see others’ emotional needs go unmet, because we are running on empty. These are the times when our human weakness overwhelms us.

But these are the times that lead us to make room for God.

For most of us, our hearts are crowded places, where big ambitions, selfishness, and concern over others’ opinions all jostle for space, leaving little room for God.  And we’re often unwilling to clean house, spiritually, until our failures, weaknesses, and imperfections drive us to do a clean sweep. And then we’re ready to invite God in— which leads me to the rest of my conversation with Mom.

Her prescription for motherhood, “You do the best you can with what you’ve got,” is just the beginning.  With the confidence born of experience, prayer, and many struggles, she declares the next steps, “Then you let God do the rest.” (I could imagine her shrugging) “And, you don’t worry about it.”

Motherhood, as my Mom has shown me, means letting God fill the gap between what my family needs in a given situation and what I have to give. It means living in the truth about who I am (limitations aplenty) and who God is (power and perfection).

And it means developing that confident faith and expectant hope that God will indeed “work all things to the good of those who love him.” (Rom. 8:28)

There’s no need to be the perfect mom.  All I need to be is a mom who depends on the love of a perfect God.

(c) 2010 Mary Rice Hasson

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May 10, 2010 · 2:52 am

“You’re Mom. You’re becoming just like Mom,“ My sister said.

“You’re becoming just like Mom,” My sister said.

A common worry among women.

I hope her words mean that I am learning to…

Pray like a warrior…like Mom, who prayed without fail for every test, track meet, heartache, and headache I ever shared with her. (And she continues still, not just for me and my nine siblings, but also for our spouses and 39 grandchildren.)

Anchor the family, and the family news…like Mom, who attracts calls from eight different cities and five different states, as we all check in to report on the breaking news in our lives.  It’s Mom who shares the stories with the general audience, providing commentary and perspective. (A “Mom update” has its own cachet, even if we just spoke with our siblings five minutes before.)

Keep everyone safe…like Mom, who still says, “Wear your seatbelt, watch out for black ice on the ridge road, don’t drink, take your vitamins, you’re not eating enough, you’re eating too much, slow down…” Her love put her protective instincts on steroids, and her words echo in our sleep. But we know, and she knows, that it’s her prayers that keep us safe.

Love–by embracing sacrifice in order to give….like Mom, who woke up early to fry eggs and brown the bacon for my hungry brothers and stayed up late for kitchen-counter talk with us girls, or to finger the beads in prayer for the last one still out….who would forego the styles and clothes she loved to sign us up for horseback, figure skating, hockey, piano, and swimming… who gave up dreams so that we could pursue ours….who still gives us her best time and energy, without counting the cost.

Am I becoming just like my Mom?  My kids should be so lucky.

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