Won't you take a moment or two?

It is well worth taking a few moments today to read The Challenge and Foundations at Castle of the Immaculate. So often, we spend a harried early morning finding collared shirts and matching shoes and checkbooks and envelopes and then we dash out the door and roll out of the van and into the pew. Then for the next hour, we work on keeping them still and quiet. Around us, there are other parents who are genuinely trying to keep children "entertained" with all sorts of playful distractions.  They are well-intentioned, of course.  They don't want their children to be a nuisance to those around them.  But can't we do better?  Can't we bring our children along to a place where they are truly assisting at Holy Mass, instead of merely existing there?

Helen reminds us that it is a continual teaching process that prepares a child, not just a Sunday morning one. Our goal is for a child to "internally engage in what is going on." Throughout the week, we set the stage for a contemplative Sunday.  And, in doing so, we live the Mass every day.

We are a liturgical people--all people are liturgical people.  In a recent conversation with a Baptist who is longing for something she senses is missing, I reflected upon how blessed we are that our Faith embraces all the senses.  Instead of running from the physical aspects of worship, we bring the "smells and bells" of it into our churches and into our homes. Children are particularly sensitive to movement and to sight, sound and touch. They sense the sacred.

Throughout the week, we can remind children that we worship with our whole person, with our whole body. So, on Sunday, it is a treat--the pinnacle of worship--when we are supported in our desire to unite with God with every fiber of our being at the Holy Mass.

So, that wiggly, squiggly active little boy?  The one that won't sit still and must move? Let's see if we can't show him how his body--trained to ride a bike or put a soccer ball upper ninety--can be trained to move and to posture with reverence and a certain degree of skill in order to join more perfectly with God. They can do it. Mass doesn't have to be about goldfish in a cup and coloring books and happy meal toys.  It can be about worship even for--especially for--little poeple.  Don't distract them; disciple them.

Rejoice and be Glad!

Blessed are you, holy are you!

Rejoice and be glad for yours is the kingdom of God!

As a devout Catholic family, we are open to life.  We've always been open to life. Because of God's great grace (and a courageous priest--thank you Fr. Lyle), I will never look back on our years of fertility and wonder if God had more children in mind for us.  We greedily accepted all those that were offered.

But it has certainly gotten more difficult.  Oh, not that we want them less.  If anything, I want them more.  My prayers for the blessing of children have reached a fevered pitch of desperation as I confront the reality of my forties.  Please, Lord, send me more before it's too late!

What has become more difficult is the recognition that this is a fallen world and that all our joy is bittersweet. I offered my labor for a dear friend who had recently confided that she was pregnant again, two years after a heartbreaking stillbirth.  Throughout labor, I was painfully aware that life and death are but a breath apart.  And I was overcome with fear. It was a fear that my friend knew all too well and one that she had faced when she embraced life once again.

A few weeks later came the heartbreaking news that her newest baby would also be born into heaven before she ever held him. As I cradled my newborn and wept for my friend, I wept for myself as well.  Gone was the nonchalant innocence, the notion that if we want a baby, we can have a baby.  In its place is the awe-filled recognition that life on this earth is very precious indeed. And that openness to life--conception, pregnancy and childbirth--is also openness to exquisite pain.

My phone rang several times that night and the next day.  The news of this latest loss rocked the worlds of some very steady, faithful women. We needed each other--we needed to sort the feelings of loss and pain and hopelessness.  And we need to be reminded by each other of faith. Like so many candles lit from a single flame, we consoled each other, we held each other up, even as we mourned the loss of the little row lights that had been snuffed too soon.

I talked with my pastor about it all last Sunday.  And he said to me, in his forthright, blunt, German way, "It's not about you.  It's not about your friend.  It's about the baby. Sometimes women forget that the whole idea is getting a new soul to heaven.  That baby's there. Mission accomplished."  He went on to say that I might not want to be so blunt when I spread the message, but that that really is the bottom line. New souls for heaven.

And with that reality ringing in my ears, I had the holy privelige of bringing another baby before God to be baptized this week. Choosing a date for Karoline's baptism was tedious.  My husband's travel schedule and the priest's schedule and the Holy Day schedules all bumped up against each other.  I ended up with a date two weeks later than I wanted.  I ended up with  All Soul's Day.  And I wasn't thrilled with it. Seemed sort of morbid for a baptism.

But yesterday, in that church, I prayed for those women whose lives and whose stories were so much a part of my pregnancy--for Missey Gray, the homeschooling mother of five who died in childbirth last winter and for Nicole, a dear friend who learned she was dying of cancer as she gave birth to her third baby. And I prayed for Donna, who gave another baby to God. And then, there was Betsy. So much pain mingled with such utter joy. Birth and death, saints and souls, truly life in the Catholic Church. And that water, that holy water, looked to my eyes to be the tears of those mothers who so loved their children. Please God, just grant us the grace sufficient to do your will with these precious souls.

I listened as the dear priest who has baptized all my children reminded my husband and me again that the goal is heaven and that we were solemnly promising to pass on the faith and to educate our children for heaven. Heaven.  No matter whether we hold them for a lifetime or hold them not at all, the goal is to return them to God.

And so yesterday, this precious, precious baby girl became what she is, a child of God.  Please Lord, let me always remember that she was created for heaven.

Leading Little Ones to the Good Shepherd

Kim Fry talks frequently about starting with the little ones and building on that foundation.  She doesn't mean just planning the littles' curriculum first and then planning the bigger kids'.  She means to look at what you want the youngest ones to know and then to add layer upon layer so that the entire family's education looks like a rich tapestry.  This makes so much sense--it is one of the beautiful joys of home education.  And it is most evident in the way we approach handing on the faith in our home.

We want to begin with the knowledge that Christ is the Good Shepherd, the tender caretaker, who will call the child by name and protect and comfort her throughout her life.  The Catechesis of the Good Shepherd program is a tangible way to do that. An atrium is a place set apart for a child to encounter and fall in love with God.

Maria Montessori had such a place in her Children's Houses and Sofia Cavaletti has taken the idea into this century. Works in the atrium introduce children to the Good Shepherd and teach them parables and prophecies and the history of the salvation of man, using hands-on materials and a respect for the silence necessary for the child to encounter God. It's a concept rooted in liturgy. Moira Farrell has captured the essence of the atrium for mothers teaching their children at home. Her albums are a great beginning, though not exactly what you find in an institutional atrium. It's a double-edged sword. Montessori education was designed for groups of same-aged children. That was Dr. Montessori's premise and she played off the effects of children on each other. When we bring it home, we gain and we lose. We lose some of the peer consort group influence. But we also gain because we experience the presentations as a family. And, in many instances, parish atria are crippled by the "after school" culture. Remember, Montessori's students were in her Children's Houses all day. They were well-trained and well practiced in the disciplines of silence. Children who are trained to listen to God in the company of their families are blessed indeed.

Modeled after the atria in Maria Montessori's schools over a century ago, this method of listening to God with children has been developed over time by women such as Sofia Cavaletti (who is Catholic) and adapted by folks like Jerome Berryman and Sonja Stewart (who are not Catholic). The books they've written and the oral tradition of the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd training that is based on their work are true treasures.  But the work of Moira Farrell--together with the materials designed and made available by her mother, Julia Fogassy--are what enable home educators--who believe that all of life is an opportunity to learn and home is the most beautiful of all classrooms--to make their homes into atria, and so to bring to life the Domestic Church. And, of course, there is ongoing discussion of the atrium at the 4reallearning message boards, to help you flesh it all out.

For as long as there have been children in my house, there have been storybooks.  Stories embed themselves in a child's heart and live there forever.  It makes good sense to tell children stories of the saints and of traditions and of the Bible.  Jesus left us a treasury of stories; it is our joy-filled duty to share those stories with our children.  And so, we do.  We have shelves of picture books that grow into shelves of chapter books that grow into a full-blown spirituality and apologetics library.  We read about God and his followers throughout the day, every day.

My preschoolers have delighted in The Catholic Children's Treasure Box.  Very old-fashioned in pictures and words, these books touch children in a way that is inexplicable.  They are pricey--collect them slowly; they're well worth the investment.

This year, we are blessed to have Catholic Mosaic to bring together some of the best of children's religious picture books in an organized manner and to offer suggestions for using those books.  I've gushed about this concept before and I'm still gushing. It's a great idea. Handing on the faith through stories is an age-old idea that we all must make our own.  While with most reading lists, the library is often the first place to look, I recommend purchasing most of the Mosaic books.  The books will become a part of the family, to be read again and again, layer upon layer, as children grow and understand more deeply.  The titles can be gift suggestions for grandparents and godparents and anyone who is interested in supporting the growing soul of the child.

Environment and atmosphere matter greatly when it comes to living holy lives.  Truthfully, we are striving to make our entire homes shine with the presence of the Holy Spirit and envelope us with the comfort of Our Lady's mantle.  We've tried to incorporate our atrium into our learning room. We've stored our picture books on two hand-me-down nightstands, placed below the Mary shelf we made in May.  On the top of one nightstand, one book is highlighted--the book which is most closely represents the current feast of the Church.  On the other nightstand is the Bible stand, a Good Shepherd statue, and a candle, all on a cloth appropriate for the liturgical season. That is our prayer table.

On the floor next to the prayer table is the Good Shepherd work.  With this, the concept of the Good Shepherd is first introduced and then, as the child grows closer to Christ, is expanded to include the meaning of Communion.

Several years ago, when my oldest daughter began her time in our parish atrium, I wanted a tanglible way to record what she was learning and to integrate it with our story books.  At the same time, Alice was preparing her daughter for First Communion.  She generously shared her ideas for a First Communion notebook.  I adapted those ideas for Mary Beth's unique experience and we began a family tradition.  Slowly, over a child's fifth and sixth year, my children create notebooks with narrations of all that they see and do and hear in the atrium work and all that they learn from the stories. The preschool experience of Catechesis of the Good Shepherd and lots of stories of faith naturally grow into their first real academic "publication." These notebooks are treasures for the child and the parent alike.  I love this time of preparation and of growing closer both to God and to my child.

On the next shelving unit, I've stored several atrium works.  In the little baskets are small parable sets.  Below them a child finds Noah's Ark, the ten commandments, the nativity, and several other presentations.  These rotate, depending on interest and season.  For instance, after our baby is born, I will present the baptism work and leave it there for my little ones to practice again and again. Following Moira's outline, but adapting it to our family, we can strike a balanced program that is uniquely ours but blessed by the talent and hard work of others.

The next table is the miniature altar.  We've done those presentations again and again and the older children like to present them to the younger ones. Slowly, layer upon layer, an understanding of the Mass and an appreciation for the Mass is cultivated.  As the children grow, this early experience will blossom into notebook projects like the lovely Easter Vigil notebook Alice designed and shared so generously a couple of years ago.

The liturgy is to be infused in our homes, to influence our choice of menus, home decoration, and family celebrations.  And then there is handwork.  Small children love to make something beautiful for God.  I am indebted to the Alice for the wealth of ideas at Cottage Blessings and her capable and inspired moderation of the Living Faith message board.  That's probably more than enough (especially when you have an occasional themed tea party).  But to have just a little extra inspiration, there are A Year with God and the well-loved classic, The Year and Our Children to provide ideas for bringing the liturgical year to life.

These elements--the atrium, the stories, and living the liturgical year--are the foundation of our "religious education program."  From this foundation, the children grow to gain an understanding of catechism and apologetics, Bible history and morality.  Hour by hour, day by day, year by year, we watch each child grow closer to God in his or her unique way.  But each one of them, from the time they are very little, has personal relationship with the Good Shepherd and a solid understanding of His message.

Earlier in the preschool series:

It's a wonderful thing!

The Art Box

Language Arts for Little Ones

Number Fun

Next up:  Practical Life

Catholic Mosaic

There is a growing box of books and assorted curricular materials in the large walk-in closet that is our home library.  In it, materials I have purchased but no longer use (or may have never used) are being gathered to sell or donate. For now, though, it stands as a staunch reminder not to buy, sight unseen, every good idea about which I read.  Often, one person's good idea becomes my bookend. Instead, when purchasing curriculum, it is better for me to sit here one day--or maybe for several weeks-- and think to myself, "I wish there were a book that did___"

For more years than I can count, I have thought, "I wish there were an organized way to integrate the Liturgical Year, great literature, notebooking, copywork, simple crafts, and Catechesis of the Good Shepherd."  Such a project was daunting. In order to pull it off, one would have to be immersed in living the Liturgical Year.  One would have to spend hours researching the wealth of beautiful religious picture books available out there "somewhere."  One would have to have a grasp on the concept of notebooking and a sense of how the faith is taught in a Montessori atrium. Then, one would have to make the time to put it all together in a useable format. Some of us dreamed of a such a resource. One of us did it.

Cay Gibson, together with Hillside Education, has done a masterful job of creating a lovely, living mosaic of literature-based catechesis--a Catholic Mosaic. 

When a child learns the faith within the context of the Liturgical Year, "religion" becomes a living, breathing part of the rhythm of life.  It is integrated into her being as fundamentally as a heartbeat.  In early December, she just knows it is Advent; that's the way it's always been.  She thinks, "Our color is purple because we are waiting, preparing."  She looks forward to celebrating the feasts that are nestled in among the fast.  St. Nicholas, Juan Diego, Our Lady of Guadalupe, St. Lucy--all her favorite, familiar friends are met with joy. And when she is older, she will not merely turn the calendar to the last month of the year inside a dry, secular cubicle, she will instead continue to live the richness of the first season of the Church year. And if, for some sad reason, she does not, something will seem terribly out of sync, for that will not be the normal, habitual beating of her heart from the beginning when she was a child in the Domestic Church of her parents.

When the faith is taught within the context of living books a lyrical song is sung, a beautiful image embossed upon a child's soul.  Those carefully chosen books become family traditions.  "This is the book we read for St. Brigid's feast; this for John Paul the Great's birthday; this for Pentecost."  Children learn the stories of the saints and they develop real, living relationships with those holy men and women who cheer them from heaven and intercede on their behalf. The saints of those stories are faithful friends for small children who grow into spiritual giants and guides for well-formed adults. The books Cay has chosen are of the highest quality--living, breathing books that will infuse children and the adults who share them with the breath of the Holy Spirit.

When notebooking is introduced to the teaching of religion and academia meets theology in the context of the rhythm of the household, you have real learning. No one can tell where "school" stops and "church" begins, where "church" stops and family life begins.  Instead, there is a lifestyle of learning within the heart of the Domestic Church. It is education within the bosom of the family, just as the Creator intended.  Catholic Mosaic offers a plethora of ideas for organizing just such an education. It's all tied together and keyed to the calendar.  We can do this!  We can have an environment in our homes that is this rich and meaningful!

There will be no used copies of this resource available.  Mothers who forego home education to send their children to school will hold on to this book in order to read the stories at bedtime and do the crafts on rainy Saturdays.  Mothers whose children have grown and gone will pass the book to their daughters and daughters-in-law.  It is a resource destined to become dog-eared and jelly smeared.

At 4Real, we've embraced this resource with great zeal.  We are talking about it. We are adding more books and more ideas and we archiving the success stories.  Come join us.  We are piecing together a life in our homes that is reminiscent of a mosaic in a fine cathedral-- something truly rich and  beautiful for our Lord.

After the fast, the FEAST!

We awoke this morning to a chorus of Alleluias!  The stone was rolled away; He is alive!

And, after the fast, of course, we must feast.  The table is set.

We discussed the menu on The 4Real forum, but the children and I tweaked it a bit today.  To see pictures and more recipes, visit Kitchen Comforts.