Being Teachable

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The baby (who is actually 15 months old, but will be “the baby” for approximately forever, since she is probably the caboose on a train of six) uses a pacifier. Exactly half of my children have used a pacifier. Exactly half of my children need braces. They happen to be the same half. Okay, I don’t know yet that the baby will need braces, but the odds aren’t looking good.

So I am trying to wean her from the pacifier. The other day, I put the pacifier on the table and the baby on the floor, and I went about my business. Shortly thereafter I hear the pathetic weeping begin. When I come into the dining room, there is the baby, gazing up through her tears at the pacifier out of reach and making her adorable language-like noises. I try to distract her. Nothing doing. Finally, I give in and give her the pacifier. The tears dry up, and—this is the icing on the cake—she toddles over to me and gives me one of her affectionate hugs.

footThen it hits me: she is positively reinforcing me. Is this how parenting is supposed to work?

In fact, it probably is. A huge part of the spiritual journey for me as a parent has been becoming teachable—allowing the experiences of motherhood to reveal to me where I need to grow and to mold me for the better.

My kids might argue that I don’t this particularly well, and they would probably be right. But motherhood has at least shown me, in glaring relief, how I need to grow (whether or not I accept the invitation). Being teachable is such a challenge, because I am a teacher by profession—and not a student. Both professionally and as a parent, I’m the authority figure. And that is necessary. The spiritual danger comes in whenever I decide I’m the authority figure in all aspects of life, including and especially my own.

But I’m not an authority on my own life, in fact. My plan for my life is pretty small and unadventurous. My plan doesn’t send me far out of my comfort zone. It’s a recipe for ease, not holiness.

Franks kidsGod the Father’s plan for me, on the other hand: now there’s an adventure. God the Father’s plan involved six children for me, something I neeeever considered back in, say, high school or even undergraduate college. And if that plan can’t make me holy, nothing can.

 

Angela Franks teaches theology for Saint Joseph’s College Online.

The Beauty of Autumn

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Fall in New England is so rich in color, beautiful color! Once a year I set out on a quest to find some of the finest foliage in the region as I traverse long stretches of rolling hills and country roads. Once found I sit in contemplation of its beauty, I meditate on the One who created such an array of colors, and I try to memorize the different hues and shades and rejoice in his creation. In this season of grandeur, we see the transformation of nature.

Autumn-Wallpaper-37Somehow the beauty of the autumn colors, the crisp air, the falling of the leaves, remind me of the liturgical celebrations set before us by the Church during this same period of time.   As I watch the emerging majesty of nature unfold, I sense the foreshadowing of the upcoming feasts’ relevance to the autumnal theme. The rhythm of the Solemnities, Feasts Days, the memorials of the saints and the readings for the Sundays of Ordinary time captures the mysteries of redemption. September begins by recalling the Nativity of Our Lady and the first “color” of transformation is made manifest, “she will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins” (Mt 1:22). With swift succession, memorials of saints are celebrated revealing magnificent virtues lived magnanimously. The virtues, if lived, require a transformative dying to self. The falling of the leaves, their return to dust, seeds deep within the ground preparing to give new life in due time reveal the transformation of nature. I am reminded that the realities recalled from our liturgical celebrations manifest spiritual transformation.

With each passing day and each passing Sunday, the emergence of important themes come forth resplendently; images of the Kingdom of God; the greatest commandment is given and parables about death and eternal life are revealed. The Exaltation of the Holy Cross is celebrated early in September. This Feast reminds us that we are saved by the One who “though he was in the form of God, did not deem equality with God, something to be grasped at, rather he humbled himself…even to death, death on a Cross.” (cf. Phil 2:6, 8). The glorious liturgical peak for this season, Christ the King, is celebrated on the last Sunday of the Liturgical Year. Here is the breath-taking moment when I desire stillness in order to contemplate Christ “upon his glorious throne” (Mt 25:32). I invite him to be enthroned in my heart.

Saint John Paul II wrote in his Apostolic Letter, Tertio Millennio Adveniente, “The religion founded upon Jesus Christ is a religion of glory; it is a newness of life for the praise of the glory of God (cf. Eph 1:12). All creation is in reality a manifestation of his glory. In particular, man (vivens homo) is the epiphany of God’s glory, man who is called to live by the fullness of life in God.” (6)  The autumn of the Liturgical Year reminds me to long for a transformation of my life by living the virtues.. Just as nature is going through its dying process so new life can spring forth, I am challenged to ask of myself how do I die to self so to allow Christ to live in me? With each passing year, I find myself trying to memorize or rather experience the richness of these celebrations, feasts and Solemnities so I can more readily be an “epiphany of God’s glory.”

Lisa Gulino is Director for the Office of Evangelization and Faith Formation in the DIocese of Providence and teaches ministry for Saint Joseph’s College Online.