2 noteworthy anniversaries: Father Rother and my Michelle & Conor

At 1:30 am on July 28, 1981, three Spanish-speaking Ladino men (non indigenous) snuck into the rectory of Santiago Apostol (St. James) church in Santiago Atitlán, Guatemala.  They immediately went to the priest’s room, but he wasn’t there. They then seized and battered the 19-year-old brother of the associate pastor, whispering to the terrified young man that they would kill him if he did not take them directly to the pastor.

He led the attackers downstairs, knocked at the door of a utility room, and called out, “Father, they are looking for you.” Aware of the threat to the young man, Father Stanley Rother opened the door and let in his killers.

The young man fled, hearing Rother cry out moments later, “Kill me here!” There was a shot. Then another. Then silence.

46-year-old Oklahoma priest Stanley Francis Rother was one of 13 priests—and the first American priest—slain during Guatemala’s 36-year-guerrilla war, a tragedy that claimed an estimated 140,000 lives. On that fateful day in July, troops also killed 13 townspeople and wounded 24 others in this isolated village on the shores of the majestic Lake Atitlán.

No one has ever been prosecuted for his killing.

Writing a biography of Servant of God Stanley Rother is my current book project.  I’ve blogged about his story a few times, like here and here.

As we remember Father Stan’s death 32 years ago today, please join the Church of Oklahoma in praying that he be declared a saint by the universal Church.

Prayer for Father Stanley Rother’s cause for canonization:

Heavenly Father,source of all holiness,in every generation you raise upmen and women heroic in love and service. You have blessed your Churchwith the life of Stanley Rother,priest, missionary, and martyr.Through his prayer, his preaching,his presence, and his pastoral love,you revealed Your love and Your presencewith us as Shepherd. If it be Your will,may he be proclaimedby the universal Church 

as martyr and saint,living now in your presenceand interceding for us all.We ask this through Christ our Lord.Amen

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Today is also the FIRST anniversary of my youngest daughter Michelle & her Conor. Please join me in saying a prayer for this young couple? They're beautiful inside and out!

Why I love Catholic Schools #2

Michelle at her first teaching job, 

Lourdes Central Catholic in Nebraska City, 

with her good friend Sally. 

As we celebrate

National Catholic Schools Week 2013

I'm proud to say that this year two of our daughters are teaching Middle School at Catholic schools! 

After two wonderful years at Lourdes Central Catholic in Nebraska City, Michelle is at St. Charles Borromeo Catholic School in Oklahoma City, and Anamaría is at Michelle's alma mater, All Saints Catholic School in Norman. 

I have always been surrounded by teachers, all levels, all types of schools -- mother, father, brother, husband, father and mother in-law -- and now daughters and daughter in law! 

Coach Michelle praying with her volleyball team

Lourdes Central Catholic

Seeing first hand the hard work, energy, time-commitment and faithfulness of these family members who are teachers, I've always had a special place in my prayers for all teachers. 

Often underpaid, those who have made teaching their vocation do so because they're answering a special call to serve, and to spread the Gospel through their lives. This goes doubly so for Catholic school teachers, who  work extremely hard, often get paid less, and still go the extra mile for their students.

What does a Catholic School teacher look like? 

well, here's Michelle on "Superhero day"

Catholic Schools Week 2013

I love Catholic schools because of their teachers! 

Two fun videos:

one minute video of a typical day at a Catholic school

Diocese of St. Petersburg

And this one, a 6-minute video on Catholic schools

Diocese of Austin

Why I love Catholic schools -- #1

Choosing the best schooling option for your children and their education is one of the hardest decisions a parent can make. At least, it was for us! It was also one that we revisited at various points in our family's journey.

Rebekah at St. James

Where should they start school? What about moving into a new city, a new state? What about high school? And finally, what should we encourage for college? At every one of these points, Michael and I stopped, re-assessed, discerned--and finally re-committed to sending our awesome foursome to a Catholic school.

Because it's a difficult and important decision, I'm not trying to convince anyone one way or the other. But I do want to share with you my top three reasons why I love Catholic schools, and why I'm grateful that we committed to Catholic schools.

First of all, I love Catholic schools because they offered us, as parents, the opportunity of sending our children into an educational environment that provided a wholistic approach to learning, one where faith is not a separate topic, but an integral part of EVERY other subject. 

When our oldest was ready to enter Kindergarten, we had no Catholic school in our vicinity. More than anything I desired an educational setting for Christopher that was Christ-centered and founded on the Gospels. One where, whether learning history and mathematics or going on a field trip, I knew that every subject, topic, event or activity centered on living out our Christian faith. So our first school experience, in fact, was a small Lutheran school in Cedar Park, Texas.

When we moved to Oklahoma, Christopher was headed to 5th grade, and our youngest to Kindergarten. Again, we discerned and found a Catholic school in nearby Oklahoma City. As beautiful as our experience was at Good Shepherd Lutheran, being able to incorporate our Catholic faith and tradition to their academic experience was the ultimate goal for us. 

Michelle serving at a school Mass

Clearly, we -- and the schools -- don't always get it right. But the fact that incorporating our Catholic faith was the mission and vision of their school provided our family continuity. This was and is the life code and cornerstone that we deliberately profess(ed) and present(ed) at home.

To put it another way, I knew that we needed all the help we could get to inculcate in our children the Catholic faith that I love and profess.

That's why I love -- and am eternally grateful -- that the schools and the teachers that were a part of my children's lives were my partners in this primary endeavor.

Thank you, Good Shepherd Lutheran School -- Cedar Park, TX

Thank you, St. James Catholic School -- Oklahoma City

Thank you, All Saints Catholic School -- Norman, OK

Thank you, University of Notre Dame -- South Bend, IN

Thank you, Marquette University -- Milwaukee

Thank you, Creighton University -- Omaha

There really are angels

¡feliz #24 cumpleaños Michelle Josefa!

Born 24 years ago today, we named Michelle after St. Michael, whose feast she shares. Not coincidentally, Michelle has always been close to angels, especially her patron St. Michael. As a preschooler, she assured  me that she could see his big wing covering her like a blanket as she slept.

When I once asked how she found the courage to defend a classmate in grade school, she smiled a toothless grin. “That’s easy, I just asked St. Michael to help me.” In high school she asked her guardian angel more than once to talk to her friend’s guardian angel to help them resolve misunderstandings.

And, obviously, it was St. Michael’s protection that I sought as Michelle and her siblings learned to drive!

I remember being surprised to find out that there are at least 17 New Testament references to angels, most of whom appeared to someone at a critical moment. But I also believe that God’s guardians are always with me, reminding me that I’m not alone.

In her poem, “Angels,” Polish poet and writer Anna Kamieńska seems to share this same conviction:

There are angels there really are angels

they catch every sound idea with the fishing-rod of intelligence

and from pails full of truth pour a bit for good luck

they bake cake poach fish in white wine

they like good jokes

the whites of their eyes shine with laughter 

and we don’t know whether in a moon-bound vehicle

one won’t on the sly squeeze into a space suit

Their calves are too strong as in Flemish paintings

they are corporeal like pale oxen at the stream

but a fiercely kind force is in them

a friendly breeze billows their robes

They sit quietly in a waiting room at the dentist

in an empty chair and are the last to enter

A long silence trails behind them

that’s how you can recognize there are angels

You can read here the entire poem, "Angels," and others in Kamieńska's collection, ASTONISHMENTS [pages 14-15] (Paraclete Press).

Bedtime dragons

NOTE: I played hookie Thursday to spend the day with my daughter Michelle, who had a day off from work--and whose birthday is this weekend!

In her honor, today's blog is a re-do about her, (and edited version of) one of my old columns published years ago in Catholic Parent Magazine.

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I glanced down the hallway, thankful to see that her light was still on. I told Michelle that she could read until I came in to say goodnight, but sometimes I take so long with the other kids that this self-contented youngest child ends up turning off the light and is sound asleep by the time I arrive.

     

“You ready for me?” I said walking in to her bedroom.

     

She nodded sleepy eyes that told me that my curly haired blond beauty had been napping with a book in her hand.

     

Sitting up in bed, she reached out both hands to mine and closed her eyes. “You start and I’ll finish,” she said, assuming our usual pattern for saying prayers.

     

But before I could utter one word, Michelle suddenly opened her eyes and looked at my face.

     

“Mama, why do we pray?” She paused to look at my surprised face. “I mean, if God knows our heart and God knows what we’re thinking, why do we tell Him things?”

     

I was so exhausted. The last thing I wanted to do was to take time for a theological discussion. But I could tell Michelle had been thinking about this long enough that it was really bothering her. In the back of my mind I was telling myself that I will never understand why these questions always seem to come at bedtime.

Yet the part of bedtime that I have learned to treasure in spite of my state of personal exhaustion, is the intimate and quiet sharing that I am graced to enjoy with each individual child––perhaps for the first and only time that entire day. It is in those quiet moments of talking and praying together that I’ve often seen something that would only come out at night, like a nocturnal animal that I look forward to spotting in the forest of their soul.

From the time she was born, I have often said that God knew how much and what I could handle when He gave me Michelle. A naturally spiritual child, Michelle was born with a cheerful spirit and a contented temper. And she was also the easiest child to lay down at bedtime!  Even as a baby and toddler, I would say a prayer with her, lay her down and Michelle would magically go to sleep.

     

So when Michelle talks at bedtime, I try very hard to listen.  

“Well,” I took a deep breath, wondering how to address her question. “I look at praying as similar to the way that you and I function.”

     

I got her attention. “As your mom, I think I know what you like. Your favorite color. Your favorite song at night. I also know when you’ve had a hard day at school the moment I see your face. And by the way you walk into a room, I can even tell how tired you are. But it’s still important that you and I talk... and that you tell me how you feel and what you’re thinking.  It’s what people do when they love each other. And that’s what prayer is... it’s a time we share ourselves, our thoughts, our feelings, with God, who loves us more than anyone ever will. Prayer is not just talking. It’s about making time to be together, like you and I are doing right now.”

     

Michelle thought about it for a moment and decided this was enough. She closed her eyes once again and said, “Okay, Mama... go ahead.”

     

I don’t remember what I said, but after a while I squeezed Michelle’s hand, my signal that it was her turn to take over. Michelle continued our prayer with a litany of “thank you’s” and “please bless...” ending with words that she repeated every night: “Let all the bad people turn good. Let this family be safe. Let me have no bad dreams and no bad thoughts. Let me have a good night rest and a good day tomorrow.”

            
But that night she paused, eyes still closed, and finally concluded, “and God, thank you for wanting to listen to me.”