Call Me Catholic

The Non-Contemplative Rosary

Look, I’ve got 7 children, and I get asked from time-to-time, “Oh, my, how do you survive that?”  I am usually assaulted with this question while buying groceries or purchasing strong coffee or standing in line at the DMV or getting my haircut.  You know, the usual places, and my answer varies according to the asker and the situation.  For posterity, I’ll offer a few of my varied responses below.

Question:  Are all those children yours?!

Answer:  Yes.

Question:  Haven’t you figured out how that happens yet?  (Wink, wink.)

Answer:  Yes, and it’s enjoyable.  (Wink!)

Exclamation:  Wow!  Your hands are full.

Response:  Yes, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Question:  Seriously, how do you survive that?

Answer:  That’s why I’m here buying strong coffee.

But really, that last answer isn’t the full truth.  We survive–and I flatter myself it’s more like “thrive”–because we pray a family rosary every. single. day.  Most of the time we pray it in the evening, after supper chores, but sometimes it has to be in the van, if we’re busy.

Our family rosary, however, is the most non-contemplative rosary that I pray.  I mean, I have 7 children and most of them can hardly sit still, let alone kneel.  And we moved to kneeling awhile back.

Actually, kneeling is more helpful because then no one needs to be touching another person, whereas on the couch, someone is always poking or punching their neighbor.  Lest you be deceived, however, kneeling doesn’t solve all problems.  You’d be surprised at how one brother can sock another brother as quick as lightening and look as innocent as a dove.

And those are just the brothers.  There’s also the little girls.  While the 6-year-old does kneel, she has a giggling problem.  Everything is just so funny and entertaining!  Which is true, because the 3-year-old is always sneaking out of her spot and gathering things–tissues, dolls, random hair binders left on the floor…  Then she distributes them, which provokes the 1-year-old to follow suit.  Not kidding.  It’s a regular circus at times.  In fact, here’s a picture from last night:

IMG_2060.jpg
Yes, that’s tissue on her head.

You’ll notice in the above photo that all the girls are sporting lovely hair clips.  That’s because “The Baby” wandered around during the rosary and adorned everyone’s hair.  Was this distracting?  Yes.  But someone forgot to shut the bathroom door, wherein all hair clips are located, and she meandered over there and came back with a skirt full.

Now, my husband had a choice at this point.  He could have stopped all rosary-praying and collected all hair pieces amidst loud protesting cries, or he could allow the rosary to continue with only occasional giggles from the girls.

And giggling won.  Last night anyway.  And the following were my meditations during this fiasco:

1st mystery: Spare us, O Lord
2nd mystery: Graciously hear us, O Lord
3rd mystery: Lord, have mercy on us
4th mystery: Lead me not into temptation
5th mystery: Deliver me from evil, O Lord

You might be wondering if it’s worth it?

I mean, “praying” the rosary every night?  Yes.  Yes, it is.  It’s the most beautiful thing we do together as a family.  And while we’re working on maintaining prayerful postures and and meaningful meditations, our heavenly Mother is interceding for our souls.

Our Lady of the Rosary, pray for us!

P.S.  I know I said I probably wouldn’t be writing a post for a few weeks, due to the move, but I guess this one just spilled out and wrote itself.  Actually, I didn’t feel like packing…  But now, for real, I probably won’t write another post for a few weeks.

Call Me Catholic

Yeah, You’re a Strict Catholic

I brought the baby into the doctor’s office yesterday.  She had an ear infection, and I had an interesting conversation.

As the doctor was entering his information into the computer, he said, “Wow, you have 7 kids!  You must be a strict Catholic.”

This seemed out of the blue.  Apparently my baby’s computer file must keep track of those things.  Then he said with a smile and a smirk, “I guess you had to have all those kids, huh?”

Now I’m used to snarky comments about the size of my family, but this ticked me off.  Why should I have to put up with his condescending, vitriolic pompousness?  I didn’t comment on the size of his family, implying that he’s a dope.  So I reached across the baby sitting on my lap, and slapped his smug face.

Ok, no, I didn’t do that.  But I did say, “Yes, we wanted all these children.”

He calmly said, “Oh yeah, I suppose you planned them all too?”

What the hell?*

“Natural Family Planning does work, when you actually monitor and chart your mucus.”  (Yeah, I said that.)

At this point, the look on his face completely changed.  He blushed, cleared his throat, and said, “Uh…I guess the other doctor here at this clinic wants to bring in a nurse trained in Natural Family Planning because she’s so busy with all her NFP patients that she can’t keep up.”

It’s true.  I knew that doctor was swamped with women wanting her assistance.  So I replied, “Yes, it’s fascinating–the woman’s body.  We studied the Creighton Model.  You might consider learning too?”

“Hmmm…”

“This isn’t your grandma’s version of the ridiculous Rhythm Method.  This stuff actually works.”

Then he said something awkward about my husband’s “swimmers” always seeming to find their way (weird), and I just sighed as he quickly slunk out of the room.

Why do I mention this incident?

Of course I couldn’t slap the guy.  That never wins people over, but of course I also couldn’t remain silent.  A wise priest once told me that if someone else is going to “go there,” then by all means, go there with him.

In other words, if someone is going to comment on my family size, then maybe I should go there too.  Just because you think 7 children is nuts and overwhelming, doesn’t mean that I do.  Or, just because you’d rather watch TV in your bedroom, doesn’t mean that we’d rather do that.  You wouldn’t believe what some people say.  “Get a TV!  Don’t you know what the pill is for?”  Or, “Don’t you know how that happens?”  Come on, people.  Be a little open-minded.

Or open-hearted?  As a matter of fact, we didn’t specifically plan each of our 7 children; God did.  My husband and I knew what we were doing, though.  Many of you may not be familiar with Natural Family Planning (NFP), but it’s not that complicated.  I simply chart when I’m fertile by monitoring my cervical mucus.  Yes, it sounds gross, but it works.

So while we may not have specifically “planned” to have, for example, this last baby, we did choose to have intercourse on a fertile day.  We knew the consequences.  But our hearts were open.  Open to God’s plan–His providence–with all it’s heartaches and joys.

And my heart has become bigger and softer with the birth of each child.  And I am so thankful.  So thankful.

 

 

*I just thought that.  I apologize for the foul language.  It’s a sin, and you should pray for me.