It was a weekly occurrence in our family, and in most families in our parish. My mother would dress us up and take us to church for the weekly devotions to Our Mother of Perpetual Help. Our church of Holy Redeemer in Detroit, Michigan, is a large basilica-style church that seats a thousand people. The icon of Our Mother of Perpetual Help is enshrined on the left side of the church, with its own marble altar surrounded by candles. After devotions, my mother would buy a candle and place it before the icon of Our Mother of Perpetual Help, and we would kneel and spend additional moments in prayer. The beautiful gold, red, and blue colors of the icon sparkled in the flickering candlelight.
Tagged: May-June 2010
As regular readers know, my husband and I are guardians of our three grandchildren, ages seven, four, and two. They are fun, delightful, sweet kids, and we love them to pieces. They are also needy, demanding, outrageously self-centered, and drive us to distraction. In other words, they—and we—are normal.
Sometimes I can only laugh at their timing. Like when the seven-year-old insists that I show her “right now, Nana, please!” how to do something on the computer while I am up to my elbows in the poopy diaper of her squirming, equally impatient little brother. A gentle “Honey, what am I doing right now?” is the best I can manage. (Sometimes I’m not so gentle.)
May is the month for celebrating mothers, the women who teach us about love by communicating an acceptance and protection that tell us how important we are to them years before we understand their words. These same feelings of acceptance and security help us ratchet up our courage and take...