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Catholic Christianity loss Mothers Spirituality unity

Gifts my Mother Gave Me

The U.S. had just entered the Vietnam War when I was born.  Until the age of ten, news about the war served as background noise from the television during dinnertime.  On outings with my mother, I’d occasionally be stopped in my tracks by someone in a grocery store who was missing a limb, or in a wheelchair.  Where I stared, my mother’s response was always, “That’s a cross he’ll bear for the rest of his life.”  At the time, I was old enough to know the story of Jesus bearing the cross, but I was also young enough to be confused as to how any of these men would be able to carry a cross like Jesus.  Keeping in mind that even Jesus got help along the way.

My mother used this phrase a lot, and not only about men. She used it so much so that it became my secret game during our outings. Because not everyone had a visible wound or scar, I’d predict how many times she would say, “That’s a cross she’ll bear for the rest of her life” and whom she would say it about.  Sometimes this phrase was accompanied with sadness in her voice, but never with a hopeless tone.  For the other phrase, the phrase she used often and well into her remaining years was “deal with it”.

Having a few of my own crosses, I’ve discovered some hidden blessings.  We quickly learn they are difficult to carry alone and that perhaps, we are not meant to bear them alone in silence.  After all, why the Biblical example of Jesus getting help along the way if not to serve as a reminder that we may need help bearing our own crosses?

Eventually, after some time of “dealing with it” we learn how to balance the weight of it on our shoulders, how to walk with it, how to be alive despite it and not merely survive it.

Reflecting on those outings with my mother, my heart is full of gratitude for the gift she gave me when she acknowledged–in a quite matter-of-fact manner–that part of going through this life is about bearing the weight of the crosses we are given.  There is a certain peace that comes with such acceptance, a peace that allows one to embrace and “deal with it”.

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Christianity unity writing

What Am I Doing Here?

On Easter Sundays, my whole family went to Mass together. First my older sister filed in, then my dad, my three older brothers, and then my mother–who held my baby brother. I got the end, closest to the aisle. I also got the Pinch in the armpit when I misbehaved. The Pinch was accompanied by my mother’s thick Boston accent in my ear, “Knack it off, or you’ll get a licken in front of God and Everybody.” I knew what a licken was but I’d never had one.  Still, I was pretty sure it would hurt–which didn’t bother me so much as the idea that to get a licken meant my bum would be exposed in church, during Mass, in front of Everybody–including God.

I quickly learned that baring oneself involved a bit of shame. So, what am I doing here, blogging and baring myself in thought and word in such a permanent way? And why now?

Perhaps, I am here now because I recently turned 50 and am much less inhibited. Yet the truth is, I choose to bare myself before God and Everybody because I realize that we are all on the same journey travelling different paths but for the one moment when you read something that I write and it touches your spirit, and I read something you write that enhances my own.

What I’m doing here is seeking out and sharing nourishment for the pilgrimage—because it isn’t easy and it is rarely pretty.

~Sheila LaSalle

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