During this season, we all gather to adore our Lord in the manger—which reminded me of how fortunate we are to be able to adore Him in the Eucharist.  My submission this month comes from my column, Old Made New.  It reflects on Eucharistic adoration and explains why the practice is beneficial for kids as well as adults.

A darkened sanctuary.  The Eucharist exposed in a golden monstrance and placed on the altar.  Stillness.  Adorers bowing in prayer.  A group of children filing in to gather near the altar.

No, this isn’t a game of “one of these things is not like the others.”  Children really do belong at Eucharistic adoration.

In Sacramentum Caritatis, Pope Benedict XVI recommended that “in their catechetical training, and especially in their preparation for First Holy Communion, children be taught the meaning and the beauty of spending time with Jesus, and helped to cultivate a sense of awe before his presence in the Eucharist.”  Eucharistic adoration involves praying in front of the Blessed Sacrament—whether it is exposed in a monstrance or reposed in the tabernacle—and it offers one special way that we, and our kids, can spend time with Jesus.

Father David Simonetti is a priest of the Archdiocese of Chicago and Relevant Radio contributor who promotes adoration.  He describes how the hustle and bustle of modern life can drown out our interior silence.  When we recover it in adoration, Father says, “we can begin to hear the Lord speak to our hearts and calm our fears, attend to our deepest needs.”  As we develop our prayer relationship with Jesus, our appreciation for all of the sacraments deepens, and we receive the graces to go out and serve God in our corner of the world.

As Father Simonetti describes, tapping into these graces can be especially important for parents.  Adoration strengthens us to fulfill our charge and allows us to teach our kids, by example, what is truly important in this world: focusing on Jesus as the source of life.

How, then, to introduce your children to quiet contemplation — a state of being that seems decidedly un-kidlike?  Find out when Eucharistic adoration occurs at your parish, and bring your kids for a brief visit.

My commitment to this approach was recently bolstered by the witness of a young mom in my own parish.  I was toddler-less at adoration; and while I knew this time was personally important, the Holy Spirit had been whispering that Junior needed a turn too.  Just in case I wasn’t listening, in walked a mother carrying a baby and leading a toddler.  They knelt down behind me, and — in a brief, whispered conversation—prayed for their special intentions and told Jesus they loved him.  Then they quietly stood up and slipped out.  The visual stuck with me as both an “Ok, I get it” moment and proof that kids can understand and adore if given the chance.

If you just aren’t sure your family can show up without chaos ensuing, or you’d like to give your child a more interactive experience, look for a local Holy Hour for kids or ask your priest if he, or someone else in the parish, could lead one.  Through the guidance of a leader, children might pray, sing, listen to a talk on Scripture, or bow in silent prayer.  Apostolates such as Children of Hope offer online materials to help start a children’s Holy Hour. Father Simonetti also offers a DVD retreat called “Stay With Us Lord” that could serve as a starting point (for details email: contact@frsimonetti.com).

“May our adoration never cease.”  Pope John Paul II offered this prayer, urging us to “be generous with our time in going to meet him in adoration.”  Let’s take Pope John Paul II up on this and meet Jesus regularly, so we can hear and respond to his call in our lives.

For more information, or to offer “Old Made New” in your publication, please contact Anne at catholicmommybrain [at] gmail [dot] com.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

Prize Pack 1:

• 1 copy of Erin O’Brien’s Complete Pregnancy Fitness DVD set
• 1 Bella Band
• 1 copy of the complete Laugh and Learn DVD package including Laugh and Learn about Childbirth, Breastfeeding, and Newborn Baby Care;  1 Laugh and Learn T-shirt; 1 copy of Sheri Bayles’ Laugh and Learn about Childbirth book
• 1 copy of Prayerfully Expecting: A Nine-Month Novena for Mothers to Be by Donna Marie Cooper O’Boyle
• 1 copy of Margo B. Smith’s CD “Sending Up A Prayer”
• 1 Nursing Bracelet from OrganicMama’s Etsy Shop

Prize Pack 2:

• 1 copy of Erin O’Brien’s Complete Pregnancy Fitness DVD set
• 2 boxes of Organic Preggie Pop Drops
• 1 copy of the complete Laugh and Learn DVD package including Laugh and Learn about Childbirth, Breastfeeding, and Newborn Baby Care; 1 Laugh and Learn T-shirt; 1 copy of Sheri Bayles’ Laugh and Learn about Childbirth book
• 1 copy of Prayerfully Expecting: A Nine-Month Novena for Mothers to Be by Donna Marie Cooper O’Boyle
• 1 copy of Margo B. Smith’s CD “Sending Up A Prayer”
• 1 Hand knit “Teddy Bear” newborn hat from Organic Mama’s Etsy Shop

Visit Kate Wicker at Momopoly for a detailed review of the Complete Pregnancy Fitness DVD set.  Visit Anne McClure at Catholic Mommy Brain for reviews of the Bella Band, Laugh and Learn package, and Prayerfully Expecting.  For additional information and products by Shannon and Organic Mama’s visit their adorable Etsy shop.

To enter to win this contest, you must leave a comment on this post with a valid email address (which won’t be published or shared) before Midnight PST on November 30, 2009.  I’ll draw two random winners and announce the winners when the contest has ended.

Editor’s Note – A HUGE Thanks to Anne McClure of Catholic Mommy Brain for coordinating this giveaway!

Update: Our lucky winners are Ann R (#48) and Sonja (#27). Your prizes will be sent soon.  Take a look at our other CatholicMom.com contests for more great chances to win!

An OpEd piece in the New York Times lays out the case.  Last year, researchers at the University of British Columbia proved that babies can understand cause and effect.  In 2007, researchers at M.I.T. also discovered that young children at play are exploring cause and effect.  And a 2007 Berkeley team discovered that the ability to understand probabilities means preschoolers can imagine possibilities.

Before you rush to enroll your genius baby in an ACT prep class, though, check out the rest of the article.  The author (one of the Berkeley researchers) ultimately concludes that babies learn through imagination and exploration– a kind of intelligence not usually cultivated by schoolwork and tests.  Babies and young children pay attention to everything, “are captivated by the most unexpected events,” and “play with the objects that will teach them the most.” Adults are busy focusing on “what they already know.” (Note to self: that sounds pretty pointless).

“Babies and young children are designed to explore, and they should be encouraged to do so,” the author argues.  Kids will learn plenty from “real world objects and safe replicas” as well as simply observing the people around them.

So ditch the flashcards and pull out the mixing bowls.  I find this to be good news since I have happy memories of sculpting fake meals out of mud and turning an old refrigerator box into a toboggan.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

But, surprisingly enough, what I really relished without the internet were my household responsibilities. Without the ability to sit down and get to work on a writing project, I got to work on a great many household projects. And– gasp!– I enjoyed them.

There’s really something satisfying about scrubbing a pan with nothing else to do but a good, thorough job. And an empty hamper, organized closet, and warm cherry coffee cake give you a sense of peace that you can’t find with your work life. At least I can’t seem to. For me, writing and teaching have presented the same challenges. You can tweak an article forever. You can push back bedtime to explore just one more angle. You can scribble down another exciting idea– just as you can always grade another paper or retool a lesson plan. In the endless pursuit of perfection– and the enjoyment of the process– a writer or teacher’s work never ends.

At the very beginning of my blog, I interviewed Holly Pierlot about her completely perspective-shifting book A Mother’s Rule of Life. This book helped me create balance in my life: a necessary ordering of prayer, person, partner, parent, and provider. While internet-less, I revisited the spirit of my rule. I didn’t have to battle the temptation to sit down at the computer, so I got to really live in that spirit. And that was a good feeling.

My brief respite from my Gmail account helped me remember the joy that household tasks can bring when offered to God as part of a balanced “rule of life.” Now, I love my freelance projects. I believe they are part of my vocation– at least a part of the path God has asked me to walk right now. But, as my somewhat unavoidable internet fast reminded me, they are only a part. So I’m going to go watch a movie with my husband now. And throw in a load of diapers. And maybe make some cupcakes.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

Katy and I knew each other from our college Education courses.  We were friendly but not close and might have stayed that way if we hadn’t decided to room together during a summer internship.  The project, teaching in struggling summer school classrooms on Chicago’s south and west sides, promised a challenge; and we both figured arming ourselves with a friendly roommate might remove a possible stressor.

We were right: it was a relief to come home to a familiar face each day.  As the days passed, though, I began to realize that God had placed Katy in my path—in my living space even—for a more significant purpose.  I had fallen away from a faith that, like my relationship with Katy, I had only known on a surface level.  Through my choice of roommate, God intended to draw me closer to Him.

Each night before turning out the light, Katy read from the Bible and from another spiritual text.  She ended each day in quiet reflection on God’s relationship with His people and His plan for her life.  I can’t say that I asked to borrow Katy’s books; but her example planted a seed that grew throughout the summer.  By the time I returned to campus in the fall, I’d come face to face with that “God-shaped hole,” the restless heart Saint Augustine talked about.  Katy connected me with the wonderful ministries of our campus Newman center, and I started down the path towards really embracing my Catholic faith. A few months later, when Katy handed me her copy of Kimberly Hahn’s Life-Giving Love : Embracing God’s Beautiful Design for Marriage, the truth about God’s plan for our sexuality surprised me.  But thanks in large part to the friendship we had cultivated, I was open to studying the wisdom of Natural Family Planning.

Since then, I’ve had my share of clumsy attempts at NFP evangelization, awkwardly introducing the topic and sending books to people who might not have been ready.  When I read Father Cantalamessa’s remarks a few months ago, I realized I’d been trying to defend the practice with words when actions often speak louder.  I thought of Katy, and every other joyful Catholic mom I know, whose family lives manifest their appreciation for Church teaching.  If Katy had simply handed me a book instead of building a friendship, I might not have accepted such a beautiful truth.  Of course, we do need the courage to pass on a favorite book or CD or invite a friend to a class or lecture.  Evangelization, though, comes more naturally when we focus first on our relationships—relationships that we give over to God.  Sharing NFP with the world must start with letting go of the desire to control the message and our friends’ reactions to it.  When we live our beliefs openly and joyfully, we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us to touch the hearts of our friends and family members.

This article was originally published in the July 2009 issue of Family Foundations magazine from the Couple to Couple League and is reprinted with permission.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

As mothers, we need that peace, and our families need us to experience it.  At Eucharistic Adoration, Jesus speaks to us, helping us to develop a relationship with Him.  It’s this relationship—and the knowledge that this gift is always available to us—that enables us to pray through the challenges of everyday life.

Father David Simonetti, spiritual director of the Pope John Paul II Eucharistic Adoration Association and frequent Relevant Radio contributor, explains the special graces available to mothers who attend Eucharistic Adoration: “They will also realize their great dignity that the Lord called them – entrusted them – with the gift of motherhood and that they are to raise ‘citizens for heaven.’”  Father Simonetti reminds us that Our Lady, the Mother of God, “is present in a mystical way wherever Jesus is Present.” When we adore Jesus in His Eucharistic presence, Our Lady is also there, praying that we may receive the graces to raise our children as she raised Jesus.

Our children also benefit from our Adoration experiences because we model the proper perspective and source of earthly strength.  Father Simonetti describes how we teach our children “by personal example what is truly important in this world as we contemplate Jesus Who is Life Itself.” By our example, our children learn to come directly to Jesus for comfort and support.

When we take our cares to Adoration—whether they are large or small—we give Jesus the opportunity to fill us with his peace, draw us into a deeper relationship with Him, and grow us in holiness.  As we place Jesus at the center of our lives, He holds us and our families ever closer.

Originally printed in the Visitation Chapel Newsletter for St. John the Baptist Church

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

As Mass began, I relished the soaring chords of the choir, the incense wafting above the altar, the reverence of the priests and servers.  But something was wrong.  I wasn’t feeling that peace.  I wasn’t slipping into deep prayer or experiencing a rejoicing in my soul.  Why?  Because I had brought a toddler to a two hour Mass.

In all fairness, my son deserves some major credit.  He was quiet and cheerful, and he did his very best.  But I had failed to remember one crucial fact: he’s a toddler.  Not even God can compel a toddler to sit still for two hours.

By the time the homily ended, I felt like I’d been wrestling a remote control car (powered by Energizer of course).  I was sweating, my arms were aching, and—worst of all—I had no idea what Father had just said.  All I could think about was how to stay one step ahead of my Captain Curious.  Did he play with the Holy Cards?  Did I get them all back?  Have I shown him this book yet?  Ooh what about that pamphlet in my purse?  In my hyper-alert mental state, I could only focus on one thing: how to keep the little guy busy so he wouldn’t distract others from worshiping.

Because I’m only human, frustration began to build.  My husband and I were so focused on our son that we couldn’t focus on the Mass.  I struggled to fight off my irritation; but when his pacifier disappeared forever under one of the neighboring pews, I cried out in aggravation (interiorly of course!).

Immediately the reply came.  “Let go of control.  You did the right thing bringing him here.”

As Mass continued, I became resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to “get anything out of it.” But what I began to realize, however, was that God would.  God got a great many things out of our efforts to attend that Mass with our toddler.  He got an act of love and devotion offered regardless of the personal challenges.  He got another soul offered to Him with love.  And, unbeknownst to me at the time, He got a chance to grow us—and probably those around us!—in mercy.

As I pondered what God was getting out of our Mass attendance I realized that He was also showing me a key aspect of spiritual life.  We love those mountain top experiences because they reinforce so clearly that God exists.  His tangible presence reassures and invigorates us.  But there is just as much value—for ourselves and for God—in the valley (or even rock bottom) moments.  He only asks that we follow Him, that we do all things for Him.  As a good friend reminded me this week, “Whatever you do, do from the heart, as for the Lord and not for others” (Colossians 3:24).  God is as pleased with our perseverance as He is with our praise.

So if you find yourself in a similar situation, remember that God can take anything and turn it into something good.  Even if it you don’t realize it at the time.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

Holy Thursday shows us why we change dirty diapers and wipe sticky hands: “He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end” (John 13:1).  Jesus—strong and wise, master and teacher—knelt to wash the feet of his disciples.  In what must have been a deeply moving and humbling moment for all, Jesus led by example, telling us “I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do” (John 13:15).  We care for our families because Jesus modeled loving service.  In a simple gesture of love, He proved that the most effective way to lead is by serving.

Good Friday helps us bear our own crosses, including those caused by our human weaknesses: “Shall I not drink the cup the Father gave me?” (John 18:11).  As Jesus accepted the will of the Father, so we are called to accept the Father’s will for our own lives—even and especially when our suffering seems pointless.  Following the example of Jesus, we place ourselves in the hands of our Father, trusting in His holy purpose.

Holy Saturday teaches us to wait—knowing that God’s time is not our time.  Imagine the shock and sorrow of Jesus’ disciples after His death.  How to expect the unexpected?  How to wait for what you cannot imagine?  We too know the difficulty of waiting for an answer to prayer.  But the resurrection confirms that the answer will come. God lives and reigns and redeems.  Covered in glory, he is our inheritance (Exodus 15 and Psalm 16).  In the words of St. Clement of Alexandria, “The Lord has turned all our sunsets into sunrise.”

In a reflection on the foot-washing, Pope Benedict XVI tells us, “The mystery of the greatness of God is seen precisely in the fact that he can be small.” When we’re immersed in the minutiae of everyday life, it’s easy to devalue these moments of smallness: the extra time taken to change a diaper with love or bird watch through the living room window.  In these moments, remember that the Triduum answers any lingering questions we might have about our value as moms.  We are strong when we are small, as we must often be.

As we accompany Jesus throughout the Triduum, we see the fruits of service, sacrifice, and patience.  The resurrection, the piece that completes the puzzle, imbues every moment of every day with the glory of God.  When we offer these moments in praise and thanksgiving, we ask Jesus, as the disciples did, to “stay with us” always (Luke 24:29).

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

Many breastfeeding moms grapple with the feelings Rosin identifies.  When you leave a career—and days filled with measurable goals and finishable projects—for the 24/7 life of a mom, it’s hard not to wonder what happened to your time and “freedom.”  We’ve all struggled when our desires must take a backseat to our babies’ needs.

Our faith, though, gives us an insight into the significance of the choices that moms make.  Our personal sacrifices have infinite value for ourselves and our children; and never are we more aware of that than during the season of Lent.  The image of Jesus hanging on the cross contradicts Rosin’s statement that breastfeeding “is a serious time commitment that pretty much guarantees that you will not work in any meaningful way.” On the contrary, breastfeeding—or any sacrifice of love we make for our children—is the most meaningful work we moms can do.

When faced with Jesus’ total gift of self, we realize the power of dying to ourselves so that our children might literally have life.  We give up extra sleep, mobility, and personal time to strengthen our children physically and emotionally.  And we do it not because it always fulfills our own desires, but because we know it’s what God asks of us.

This is not to say that breastfeeding and mothering don’t make us happy.  They do—happier than we could have ever imagined.  And of course, we must care for ourselves so we are able to share ourselves with others.  But the vocation of motherhood requires a constant self-emptying, a frequent echoing of Jesus’ prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane: “Not what I will but what you will” (Mark 14:36).

In Jesus’ Passion, we see a model for the sacrifices we make. And we know that, just as He was rewarded by the Father, we too receive infinite rewards from following God’s call to motherhood.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

In spite of the particular nastiness of this bug, I couldn’t help but realize how clearly God has seized the opportunities of illness to speak significantly in my life.  As I lay in bed, bemoaning my state, I suddenly remembered the last time I’d been sidelined so significantly.

About two years ago, at the end of my first trimester, I contracted mono—a seemingly odd illness for one so far removed from the college dorm scene.  The germs probably jumped off a desk or water fountain at the school I was teaching at and found a willing host in my exhausted body; regardless of mode of transmission, however, mono was enough to send an already sleepy pregnant lady into full-blown hibernation.

Much to my surprise, though, mono was actually an answer to an as-yet un-verbalized prayer.  As I lay in my bed one afternoon, I realized that God was speaking to me.  And without the ability to plow through a stack of student essays, catch up on bills or even skim a favorite magazine, I had nothing to do but hear Him.  I began to realize that this mono was actually fulfilling the deepest desire of my heart—the longing to escape the rat race and just be.  As the afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, I stared at the two logs of my legs under my down comforter.  For once, they didn’t have anywhere to rush off to.  I was no longer “too busy” to make time for God’s whisper.

The mono forced me to abandon my disordered priorities.  Strangely, it is the one experience during my pregnancy that truly prepared me for motherhood.  As accustomed as I was to schedules, projects, and “important” pursuits, mono stripped my life down to the truly important: me and God.  Without the experience, I would have entered the mothering phase of my life unable to slow down enough to appreciate the significance of the minimalist moments—times in the life of a mother when you feel removed from what the world deems important while engaged in an act that is truly important for the world.  Mono stunk; but God gave me that great gift in preparation for the hours I would spend in my rocking chair figuring out how to nurse a baby and the countless projects I’d put aside to throw a ball or read Goodnight Gorilla.  I was sidelined so I wouldn’t miss out on the real joys of my life.

This week, as I curled up under the same down comforter, I was struck with the impression that this flu was another gift.  Once again, I’d gotten in over my head.  I’d taken on too much; so the Lord removed the ability to fulfill those “important” commitments.  Just in time for Lent, I had to surrender the desires and pursuits tying me to the world and refocus on true life.

God will never force us to listen: but I’m slowly learning to be aware of—and grateful for—His constant and loving efforts to make His voice heard.  In Luke 5, Jesus reminds us, “Those who are healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do.” Sometimes we have to be physically sick to realize our spiritual sickness.  And if we let Him, God heals both.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

Bristol’s interview did raise a question for me, though, and I think it’s an important one for Catholic parents to answer: How do we raise kids who don’t think abstinence is “unrealistic?”  Bristol is certainly not the only teen who thinks so.  Many of us would admit that we thought the same thing at some point in our lives—not surprising when you consider the culture.  Just check out what’s on TV this week.  Several bachelorettes vying for the coveted “overnight date” with this year’s Bachelor.  Three of Hugh Hefner’s girlfriends chronicling life in the Playboy Mansion.  The “secret life of the American teenager” which just so happens to involve sex, pregnancy, and marriage—at the age of 15.  When the media normalizes adolescent sexual relationships, abstinence isn’t just unrealistic to our kids.  It’s completely irrelevant.

So how do we reclaim them?  How do we convince our kids that abstinence is both realistic and relevant?  Three things: communication, culture, and coolness.  First, we flat out have to communicate.  We can’t be afraid to talk about Catholic sexual ethics with our kids.  They need to hear it from us, and they need to hear it from the Church.  Our bodies are wonderfully made and deserving of honor; and nothing disrespects you like a violation of your sexuality.

After our kids have heard us confirm what they already know in their hearts, we need to create a family culture that encourages their commitment to this ideal.  Give them an out to avoid sticky dating situations and help them avoid those situations in the first place.  Establish family rules that guard against occasions of temptation, acknowledging that those feelings will occur.  Be open and respectful of their experiences, allowing them the freedom to become who God wants them to be but vigilantly protecting their personal dignity.

And, of course, nothing’s more important than coolness.  Which unfortunately is something we parents will never have.  So we have to rely on and support other Catholics who do have the coolness factor—often a younger generation.  Young Catholics need to speak out, testifying joyfully to the value of abstinence and NFP.  Older Catholics need to provide the platform and support for these young people, making it possible for their message to reach the kids who need it most.

When it comes down to it, we can’t make decisions for our kids.  But we can tell them the truth about their sexuality, create situations that enable them to stick to their beliefs, and build up a Catholic culture of support in which abstinence isn’t such an outlandish idea after all.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

For better or for worse, our kids’ opinions reflect our own.  And when talking politics, it can be easy to confuse the person with the policy.  In order to avoid judging the person, we have to maintain an attitude of respect for the essential dignity of each of our elected officials.  This may not be easy, but it becomes even more important when we disagree.  Adopting an uncharitable tone will simply reinforce stereotypes of Christian hypocrisy and shut down lines of communication.  And trying to live the old adage “you catch more flies with honey than vinegar” will show our kids that we are truly committed to respecting the dignity of all human life.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that we should back down.  As Fr. Euteneuer, president of Human Life International, recently advised, “we can be civil in discourse and strive to show respect for the office which President Obama holds, but we cannot give ONE SINGLE INCH on any life issue or allow the civility of our discourse to be interpreted as compromise.”  Our unwavering conviction will become more powerful when paired with a courteous approach, and it will model that high road that we want our kids to take.

At the 6th World Meeting of Families in Mexico City, Capuchin Father Raniero Cantalamessa reminded us of the effectiveness of our actions.  He suggests that, instead of simply fighting against the culture, Christians should rediscover for themselves the beauty of marriage and family and then propose this ideal through their witness.  “The Christian idea of matrimony and family does not just need ‘defending,’ he affirmed. The most important thing is the ‘task of Christians rediscovering it and living it in plenitude, such that they again propose it to the world with their actions, more than with their words.’”

In a hostile culture, our pro-life actions may be “heard” in a way that our words will not—by both our fellow citizens and our kids.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure

Like always though, it was a different story once we stepped outside.  Tucked away next to a forest preserve, their neighborhood remained untouched by plows or salt trucks—and I felt a few butterflies while just braking gently for a stop sign.  Naturally, our return trip was slow going; sloshy snow and quickly-freezing rain made for treacherous road conditions.  We inched along cautiously, happy to take our time with extra vigilance.

As we filled up with gas, preparing to hop on the expressway and head home, I felt calm and reveled in a happy day’s memories.  But just as I was about to pull out of the station, I felt a strong need to pray.  As I asked for the protection of our guardian angels, my mind filled with a picture of three angels strategically positioned around our car—one at the front passenger side, one on the driver’s side, and one at the back bumper.  They seemed to be lifting our car with their wings, an idea that seemed strange to me at the time.  I remember thinking, “Why are they holding us with their wings?  Don’t they have hands?” and dismissing the image without another thought.

It wasn’t long though, before the meaning of the vision became crystal clear.  While maneuvering the expressways towards our home, we must have hit a patch of black ice.  Without warning, the car began to fishtail.  Time slowed down.  My thoughts seemed almost methodical as I attempted to gradually correct our path.  But the tires continued to slip.  The car spun out of control, and we turned in a circle across the inner two lanes, coming to a stop facing the wrong direction—facing oncoming traffic.  As I stared at those approaching headlights, though, I felt an incredible sense of peace.  The Lord was so close, and even though I didn’t know what was about to happen, I felt an overwhelming sense of His presence.

I still don’t know how every car was able to come to a gradual stop.  No one swerved or slammed on brakes.  Every car slowed and stopped.  Although shaken, I forced myself to turn the car around and continue on our way.  It wasn’t until we were safe in our driveway, that I allowed the tears to flow.

This experience terrified me.  I can’t think of how close we came to getting hit—on the side of the car where my toddler slept peacefully in his car seat.  But after a cup of hot chocolate (double chocolate meltdown) and a meltdown of the emotional variety, I retained a strong sense of the spiritual nature of the experience.  I can still feel the soft touch on my hands as I held the wheel—like long thick gloves encasing my arms.  And I couldn’t help but be struck by the fact that, just the day before, my mother-in-law and I had completed St. Louis de Montfort’s consecration to Jesus through Mary.  What a reminder that our lives truly belong to Him, and that our blessed Mother, Queen of the Angels, intercedes for us always.

And wouldn’t you know it?  The following week’s mass readings put the final pieces of my angel picture together.  Isaiah 40:31—“They that hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar as with eagles’ wings.” Now I know why the angels weren’t using their hands.

Copyright 2009 Anne McClure