A Ticket to Heaven

“Putting up with others is a work of mercy: enduring their behavior, awkward manner or perhaps their nagging; in other words, to lovingly disregard what really amounts to minor shortcomings. Similar to feeding the hungry and visiting the sick, this is one of the works that will be asked of us at our final examination.”

Chiara Lubich, Heaven on Earth, pg 47

I have been receiving these daily little snippets of wisdom for a while now. They are mostly the reflections of Chiara Lubich, founder of the Focolare Movement, but there have also been many words of wisdom from Pope Francis’ writings. They range in topic and I never know what the next one will be about. Some hit me square between the eyes (like this one), others are insightful and good to chew on throughout the day.

This one has stayed with me even beyond the day I received it. At first glance, I felt so justified and self-righteous (not exactly the response Chiara intended I’m sure). Look at me, I do this every day! I am home with small children, I “endure their behavior” and their incessant “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” cries. Honestly, I’m so good at this, even though the big 4 kids are in full time school now instead of homeschool, I’m still at home with a 3 year old and a 19 month old who, let’s face it, clearly have many shortcomings to grow out of. And let’s not get started on those 4 big kids who come clamoring home every day practically shouting all the things they did at the same time so I can’t think or hear straight. Kids, so much to learn. Thank goodness they have a mom like me who can put up with them. These kids are my ticket to heaven, stamped and ready to go.

If I could see your face right now, dear reader, I imagine I’d see some version of the nervous or anxious emoji. And you’d probably be silently stepping back from me as the lightening from on high was surely coming swiftly.

Wow! Just, wow. What an arrogant string of thoughts! I have many, many reasons to be thankful for our faith and here is but one of them. If I didn’t have a faith lens to check myself with, the above reaction probably would have been the end of that particular string of thoughts. Yikes! Taking the same words of Chiara with a lens of faith offers a radically different journey that, surprisingly perhaps, comes to a similar conclusion.

Do I have to put up with others. Absolutely. Do they also have to put up with me? Absolutely. Here’s the thing, none of us are perfect. We all have shortcomings. Focusing on the shortcomings of others does not diminish our own. We all have areas of grow, to improve, to become holy. It doesn’t matter who we are or what we have done. Jesus loves each one of us with perfect love. He is the one who “lovingly disregards” our shortcomings, minor or otherwise, while drawing us closer to Himself. This means that even while we were unworthy of salvation, Jesus freely gave Himself for us. Nothing we did or will do can earn that kind of love or sacrifice.

Jesus is the one who shows us how to “put up” with others. It is to love them for who they are, not because they check all the boxes, but because He loves them. Jesus does not wait for us to be cleaned up before He draws us close to Himself. He reaches out with open arms, and challenges us to do the same with those whose shortcomings we find the least desirable (even if they poop in the bathtub. Because, yes, that happened in our house. Twice now).

At first, I had put myself in the role of the one “putting up” with other people, especially my children. On a second, and more humble, scan, I saw in myself my own shortcomings that my kids have to put up with. I can lose my temper, I am impatient, I make impulsive choices that aren’t well thought out or are selfish. I have room to grow in all the areas of my life.

I’m their ticket to heaven just as much as they are mine.

Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com

Delight

Sitting at an intersection with my observant and forthright 6 year old went something like this recently:

“Mommy, why aren’t we turning?”

“Because we have to wait for a break in traffic. The cars going across us don’t have a light or stop sign so we have to wait for both sides to be clear so we can turn safely. You didn’t put ‘Get hit by another car’ on your plan for the day, did you?”

“I don’t have plans for today.”

“Really, no plans??”

“Nope, I just wanna have fun.”

Her last statement was said in a very matter-of-fact, no-nonsense tone of voice. Had she been older, the addition of, “Duh Mommy,” would not have been out of place. I had to suppress my laughter as we finally had an opportunity to turn and move on with our day.

From the mouths of babes, am I right? I just wanna have fun — when did we lose this outlook on life? When did it all become plans, tasks, goals, and deadlines? In an adult life, these things have purpose and are in many cases, necessary. But what is their ultimate aim – do they get us through the day, or do they help us enjoy the day?

While visiting my parents, my mom introduced me to her new afternoon coffee drink. She often looks for a little caffeine in the afternoon, as many of us probably do. Usually she turns to tea, but lately she discovered a version of a Korean instant coffee drink (rather than hauling out the mixer, she puts the water, sugar and coffee in a small sealed container and shakes them until foamy. You can’t dollop it on top as the recipe shows, but the effect is pretty similar and still delicious!) She calls it her Afternoon Delight.

I love the choice of word: delight. Delight can be both a verb and a noun, meaning to please someone, or simply a great pleasure. The example of the noun is “the girls squealed with delight.” I love this! You can hear little girls squealing — not laughing, not giggling, squealing really is the right word for the sound that explodes from them when they take great delight in a puppy, a new doll, or the idea of piggyback rides on Daddy.

When is the last time you, “squealed with delight?” The first time I sipped my mom’s new afternoon treat, I didn’t necessarily squeal out loud, but that same feeling bubbled into my smile. It was … delightful! It caused me to think about why I hadn’t felt this feeling in a long time, and challenged me to consider how to allow more delight into my day.

I came up with a list, one that I’m working on adding to, of things that bring me that same feeling of delight.

  • The coffee drink
  • Caramel apple dip, especially in the fall
  • Good quality, soft yarn
  • Hummingbirds
  • My 17-month-old’s smile
Image via Pixabay 2013

As we transition from fall to winter, and from Ordinary Time to Advent, it is a unique time to consider what brings us delight. This burst of energy and glee can make a big difference in an otherwise dull day spent indoors because of bad weather, cold, or in this particular year, Covid-19. Advent is a time of waiting, yes, but we also hear about the delight of Mary and Elizabeth as the children in their wombs leapt for joy upon meeting one another. This moment of delight can inspire us to look out for our own moments of delight. And like Mary and Elizabeth, we ought to savor them, not hurry over them to the next task or plan.

As adults we have plans, we have responsibilities. We cannot, as my daughter wishes, just wanna have fun and expect the laundry to be folded, zoom meetings attended, dinner prepared and the kids in bed on time. We can, however, intentionally seek out little opportunities of delight. These moments are opportunities to deeply feel God’s loving presence within us. We know that God delights in all He made: this includes us. As creatures made in God’s image and likeness, we glimpse a small piece of God’s great delight when we allow ourselves moments like these.

How long has it been since you experienced delight? What is something or someone you can take delight in this week, today even? If you can, make a list of regular or reliable sources of delight and see if you can increase your opportunities to experience them this Advent season.

This post was originally published at CatholicMom.com.

Indelible Mark

This weekend has been the Catholic Moms Summit (if you haven’t checked it out you still have time! Hurry over, it’s all free, though if you want to be able to watch what you’ve missed later, as well as have access to the live events they held you will need to purchase the pass). I listened to a few talks, all of which were very good. My absolute favorite was by Beth Sri, Birthing 101. Beth is a Catholic wife and mom of 8. You can learn more about Beth here.

In her talk, Beth talked about the things she figured out after her first four births and wished she had known for them. I’m not going to get into the nitty gritty details of the practicalities of birth here, you can head over to the Summit if you want that information – it’s worth it, trust me!

One of the things that really left me floored was something she said toward the end about the spiritual aspects of birth. She had a spiritual director tell her, when she would share about a new pregnancy, “Thank you for your gift to humanity!” As Beth says in her talk, this sounds a bit dramatic, doesn’t it? But no! If we believe what we say we believe, if we as parents are truly participants in creation with God the Father, how could this new little person be anything but a gift?

Beth, of course, understands this also. She concludes her talk like this:

“You’re going to contribute in an indefinite way to eternity. Not only is your little person and your experience going to make a mark on the world, but it is going to make a mark on eternity. Forever, this new soul will exist forever.”

Wow, just wow. Taking this opportunity to announce we are going to be welcoming our 6th gift to humanity in March, I can honestly say I have not considered the indelible mark each of our children will have on eternity. On the world, yes. Ben and I have all of the usual hopes parents hold – we hope our children are faithful, brave, compassionate, truthful and cultivate all the other good virtues. We pray that they follow their vocation, that they listen to God’s Will in their lives and that they discover that happiness lies in self-giving love. But an indelible mark on eternity? I’m rendered a little speechless at that one.

Indelible means “not able to be removed,” or similarly, “not able to be forgotten.” By conceiving our children, heaven has changed forever. Every single child, whether they are born into this world or whether their mark is made only on our hearts, will make a new impression on eternity which cannot be forgotten.

God knows the number of hairs on our heads, even if your babies are born bald like mine. Not a single child is forgotten by their loving Creator, and heaven is all the better for it.

Indelible Mark #6
Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com