My husband, Gary, and I are both from Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Whenever a holiday rolls around we head back to Iowa to spend time with our families. During the holidays we attend Mass at our parents’ parishes. It is during those celebrations that I often reflect on St. Anne. In our hometown churches it is taboo to greet those around you and visit with each other before Mass begins, so right away I feel a separation from those with whom I will soon be celebrating Eucharist.  After Mass begins, I sit in church wondering, “What would Fr. Don be saying during the homily right now? I think his sermon would be more meaningful to me. ” Or I brag to myself internally, “Our music at St. Anne is much better than this!”  

I always feel a little sorry for myself that I don’t get to experience the holiday Masses at St. Anne. I hear about the wonderful music from our adult and childrens’ choirs and wish I had been there to experience it. I miss the homilies and reflections from Fr. Don that are so down-to-earth and practical. I miss the friendly atmosphere within our worship space as people smile and greet one another upon entering church. So even though I love being with my family over the holidays, and wouldn’t trade those moments for the world, there is a part of me that wishes I was back at St. Anne. Recognizing that helps me appreciate the strong feelings of community and family we have developed in our parish.

Today I received a booklet in the mail entitled The Dimensions of Grief from the funeral home that had buried my dad last February. Included was a note that offered words of compassion and comfort. This piece of mail made me pause and reflect on grief. I believe that grief is a very personal emotion. Each person grieves their own way and I have also discovered that my grief is different for each person I lose.

Nevertheless, the note made me wonder, how were we doing, myself, my four siblings and all the grandchildren that mourned the loss of my dad? The holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays were all celebrated this past year with my dad noticeably absent.

We miss him. But as I reflect over this past year it’s comforting to think that dad spent this year without the pain of arthritis, without the confusion of dementia, without the debilitating affects of his neurological disorder. I believe that this past year he danced with my mom and sat again with his parents, sisters and friends who passed before him. And most magnificent of all, he saw the face of God. What a glorious year for him!

But what about the family he left behind. How were we doing?

As we grieved the loss of my dad we rejoiced at the birth of my grandson. Exactly one week after dad passed my youngest daughter became a mom for the first time. After many years of tears, frustration and disappointment Tracie and her husband Matt had made the decision to try to adopt a child. Dominic was born and placed in their arms on February 23^rd. My family believes that this was a message from God to celebrate and rejoice life.

Looking back we knew that this wasn’t the first message that we received the year before my dad died. While Tracie was visiting we attended mass at St. Anne’s. She was deep in prayer, asking God to bless them with a child, praying that a birth mom would choose them.  At that moment she realized that the song that was being sung was a song we sang at Nick’s funeral. She believed in her heart that this was a message from her dad and our Father that her prayers would be answered. A few weeks later she was again at mass talking to God when the priest began the homily. He talked about God’s promise to Sarah and Abraham that they would have a son. Tracie felt peace in her heart at that moment.

There were signs too that my dad wouldn’t be with us much longer. It was small things. Dad began distancing himself from us and others. He quit sharing his old stories. He seemed to prefer to be by himself. We didn’t learn until a few months before he passed that he was suffering from a neurological disorder which explained some of this but I believe it was God’s way of preparing us.

So, back to my question, how were we handling dad’s passing?  I think we’re doing okay. I believe the greatest lesson my parents taught us was to cherish family. The best thing about my family is that we truly enjoy each others company. We share meals, play games, tell stories and laugh…a lot!

We will continue to pass on this lesson as our family grows. And grow we continue to do. Both my niece and my daughter Tracie are pregnant! The circle of life….what a beautiful thing to celebrate, what a blessing from God!

The drive home from our Christmas Day celebration was only about 45 minutes.  The kids were tired, watching a movie (how I love the car DVD) and very quiet.  The day was very full; gifts in the morning, mass at St. Anne, brunch, putting new toys together, and finally, a beautiful dinner tradition with my extended family.  As we were traveling home, I began to reflect on my day, my family and what it all means to me.  I am blessed not only with a great family but a fabulous extended family.  So I asked myself what does it mean to be a family.  The dictionary describes it as a group consisting of parents and children living together in a household, a group of people related to one another by blood or marriage, a person or people related to one another and so to be treated with a special loyalty. 

It is not always easy to call each other family, or be committed to family.  Our differences and life challenges often pull us away for a while.  You often see this in the teenagers and early twenties in our family.  We never stop welcoming them and praying for them.  Our family is not unique in its love for each other but I do find some of our traditions very special.  This Christmas marked the 49^th year we celebrated Christmas Day together.  We sang the same songs, ate the same meal, toasted our ancestors and began with a prayer.  We all bring different gifts to the party and family.  We accept each other’s differences, support each other’s challenges and celebrate all the wonderful accomplishments over the years.  This party doesn’t happen by chance, a strong commitment to our family was set by many of our ancestors, which still carries on today.  There are only eight remaining members of our family that were present at the first Christmas Day celebration 49 years ago, but the commitment is still as strong.  At the first Christmas celebration there were 16 family members, 49 years later there were over 60 present. 

It is not easy to pack up our family after a long day and travel to this party, but it is important to us to keep our family ties strong and visit with our aunts, uncles and cousins from all over.  Many travel farther then we do, each making the same yearly commitment.

My thoughts of our family Christmas tradition soon got me thinking about St. Anne. So many of the same feelings I have about my family, I also have about my church family.  We come from many backgrounds; socioeconomic, ethnic, neighborhoods, family makeup, yet we come together each week to pray as a family.  We respect each other’s differences, support each other in difficult times, and celebrate wonderful accomplishments together.  Just like my family, we don’t do this by chance; we do this because we are committed.  Commitment is not easy; it takes sacrifice and time to make it truly work. The rewards are so much greater than any sacrifice we may have to make.

It is my wish for St. Anne that we always carry on our commitment to each other, the greater community and treat our church family with that special loyalty for years to come. We are blessed in so many ways to have each other, our faith and to call one another family.

The lyrics to the song, or at least the title has been going through my mind for a couple weeks now. While at Dick’s Sporting Goods, my son, Jack, found $35 on the ground. He wanted to give it to the people right in front of us, figuring they had dropped it. But he reconsidered, since he wasn’t sure it was theirs. So I told him we could turn it in to the front desk and ask them to call us if no one claimed after a short time. We did that.

As we left the store, Jack was sure he was going to get the money back. He asked me if it would be okay to give $25 of it to St. Anne. Of course I told him it was a great idea. He thought for a few minutes more and asked if $10 might be okay, since the hockey goal he had his eye on was around $25. I said that would still be okay, that it was great that he was thinking of others and wanted to give part of his windfall away. He didn’t try to bargain any lower that day, but every once in a while through the next few weeks, as we waited for the store to contact us, he tested to see if I would let him go any lower. He was still very excited about giving the money away, so he did not blink when I said that he had to honor his original plan.

As days went by, he kept wondering why they hadn’t called and had me call the store a couple times. I called a few times and earlier this week, we were able to pick up the money. He couldn’t wait to spend it,  but even more, he couldn’t wait until we could go to Mass this weekend so he could donate it.

As we arrived today, he found the envelopes and very carefully printed his name on it. He made sure to put the money in himself and lick the envelope. He kept asking when we would be able to put it in the basket. Finally, the moment arrived and he very proudly took the envelope and dropped it in the basket. His ear to ear grin as he returned to his seat made me proud.

Whether he learned it directly or indirectly through observation, he has been taught well. And I think the best teachers in the world are the parishioners at St. Anne’s.

Getting five children ready for Sunday mass is always an adventure.  No doubt that we are searching for that matching shoe just minutes before we are suppose to leave or trying to rally our 15 year old to make it on time.  I can only hope when he emerges from his room at 9:59 that he has on a “mother approved” outfit suitable for church.  This past summer we gave him the 10-minute leaving notice and announced to him to be in the car by 10:00am.  As the clock on the car read 10:03 my husband pulled away without him.  Luckily for our son we only live a few blocks from church and just before the entrance song began to play he arrived via his bike. 

 As we make our way to church each Sunday the car ride itself can be an adventure.  We are fortunate to live very close to St. Anne so with a little luck there won’t be too many arguments in the car.  We have normal children who argue with their siblings on a regular basis; who gets to sit in front, who sat there last time, who is taking too much room up in the car.  Again, it would be easier to go alone.

 There are countless Sunday mornings when it would be so much nicer to attend mass by myself and leave the “gang” behind.  I know I would certainly get more out of the homily if I were able to sit without any distractions.  I always feel it is a successful mass if no one asked to go to the bathroom or get a drink.  I’m not sure why they even ask because my answer is always no. It is also great if we make it through the sign of peace without any tears because their brother shook their hand to tight.

This year our girls decided to join the newly formed children’s choir.  It has been a wonderful experience and we are thankful for Melanie’s leadership.  Annemarie, our fourth child and middle girl, was asked to sing the responsorial psalm for the November 2nd mass.  With only a couple of days to prepare for this opportunity she put her whole heart and soul into preparing.  She sang in the bathroom, she sang in the car, she sang in her room.  She was well prepared for her role that Sunday morning and couldn’t wait to lead the church in song that day.  As she walked with confidence to the ambo, I was so proud of her confidence and willingness to take this challenge.  She sang out beautifully that morning as if she had been doing it forever.  I couldn’t help to think that her confidence came from her church family.   She knew that no matter what happened at the ambo that day, her church family would be behind her.  She had a feeling of belonging, and acceptance as she sang that truly came from the people of St. Anne. Our children feel so at home at St. Anne that this task seemed almost too easy for her. I don’t think that Melanie could have ever imagined what a great opportunity this was for both St. Anne and Annemarie.

 As we made our way home that day, the kids were all singing her song.  During the week, the song began to get on the other kids nerves because she sang it so much but now it seemed different.   I know each one of her siblings were equally as proud of her as her dad and I were, this was their way of showing it.

 So yes, our efforts are certainly worth it.  I wouldn’t trade our family time together at church for anything. Watching our littlest one set the baskets out, seeing the boys visiting with friends during hospitality, having each of them hold the doors for fellow parishioners and now watching our daughter lead us in song, all make it worth it. 

We will continue to search for that matching shoe, rally our teenagers and say no when they ask for that drink during mass.  It is worth it, the children are the future of our church.