Yesterday was Mother’s Day and our 9:30 am mass was crammed with families including one family we see every week attending mass with all four of their kids. The oldest is probably in kindergarten or first grade. The youngest is still in an infant carrier. At one point, the father took the baby out of the church, leaving the mother with one child on her lap, one glued to her left side and one to her right. I’m probably projecting my own crotchety, old lady irritation onto her, but all I wanted was to remove all three of them and give her the Mother’s Day gift of solitude and peace. But I also hope she knows it’s worth it. 

I was lucky enough to be able to tell my story in America Magazine last week. Here it is:

These days, when my family arrives at 9:30 a.m. Sunday Mass (usually fast-walking in just as our celebrant starts up the aisle), my husband and I can be relatively secure in the knowledge that we will make it through the service without incident. This was not always the case, and one Sunday morning, not long ago, those more capricious days were brought back to me. [read more]