Faithful Food: Birthing Boys, Raising Men

Birthing Boys, Raising Men

Kim Long, Saint Mary of the Pines DRE

WHEN I WAS a young girl, I asked my mother why did anyone have children since it hurt so much. The answer given was very much the sentiment of the verse from John. The joy of your baby is greater than the labor pain.

She was right…and she was wrong. When anyone hurts our children, when they hurt at all, so do we.

This is illustrated most memorably in the heart-wrenching scene of Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ when Mary flashbacks to a young Jesus falling and skinning his knees. My heart was suddenly in my throat as I immediately connected with Mary in that darkened theater.

As a mother of four sons, that scene has stuck with me.

When my youngest son (now 31) was three, my husband died in a car accident. I felt so ill-equipped to be responsible for raising my sons into men.

The love was not lacking but I knew nothing about being a man, and while it was not a huge thunder-clapping moment of panic “oh my gosh what do I do” little moments crept in. I forgot to teach one of them to ride a bike…I just forgot. So to remedy the deficiency all of the boys and I went outside and we taught the uncycled son how to ride. Another time one of them was playing baseball on a team. I attempted to give him pointers. Those were my most memorable and most uncomfortable “dad” parenting moments when they were small.

I wanted to raise good, decent, and faithful children who would one day, God willing, be husbands and fathers themselves. I leaned heavily on familiar practices - rosary, mass, homework, reading stories together, having fun, bonding, and doing everything we could as a family unit.

Not long into my single parenting role, I realized I needed help. From that moment forward Mass was seldom missed, God became more primary, and we prayed for a safe journey there and back when leaving for a trip of any length. I clung to the liturgical calendar like a life raft, Advent wreaths, and candles, Epiphany parties (now more properly called 12th Night). During Lent, praying the rosary at night was non-

faithful food

negotiable, as was the cessation of television until we broke the fast with an old VHS copy of Jesus Christ Superstar. Our pastor, Fr. Antony, who hailed from India, often accepted our Thanksgiving and Easter dinner invitations. In short, a normal Catholic childhood as far as I could tell ( since I did not grow up Catholic). So how did it all play out…some successes, some less successful moments, and the normal twists, turns and disappointments parents and children pass back and forth all the days of our lives. Not every dream became a reality, and not every nightmare lasted until dawn, we got on with living, teaching, and learning from one another. They are all adults now, some married, some not,

some have children, and some do not. Every Sunday when possible, family dinner happens, and our Christmas crowd has changed due to family deaths, marriages, grandkids, and relocations.

We help one another, we argue sometimes, we disagree sometimes, we cheer one another on, and at times, we take one another to task. We pray for each other and extended family and friends. I always wanted a normal family - it was a striving where I expounded much of my energy. In the end, I realized normal is a bit of a myth; all of our work, our learning was aiming us toward the real goal, being faithful to God and one another.

So, are we perfect? Heck no. Was I always a peaceful, Catholic mom with a veil and rosary in hand? Heck no. I can raise my voice with the best of them. Did they always behave as I wished? Forget it! I have literally walked the floors praying the rosary and crying my eyes out. Have we ever given up on each other? We have come pretty close but thanks be to God, we have not.

My sons are not perfect, but thanks be to God, there is so much goodness in them and much gratitude for God’s hand in our lives.

Not every dream became a reality, and not every nightmare lasted until dawn, we got on with living, teaching, and learning from one another.

I share this story with you in case you are struggling alone (in any way), and doubt that you are up to the task at hand, whatever it may be. You are! The rhythm of the liturgical year, the constancy of the rosary, and the power of love, rooted in God, are the most powerful tools I have ever known. I doubted I would be able to raise those boys into good and decent men. Did I miss things…absolutely but with God’s help we made it through a difficult time. So can we all!

This month is not a recipe per se, but here are some resources I found so valuable on my journey.

The Bible (no-brainer)

Praying for Our Adult Sons and Daughters John Boucher

A Mother’s Manual A Francis Cooms, SJ (I am on my 3rd copy)

The Communion of Saints…especially St. Joseph, St. Michael, St. Brendan, St. Patrick, and yes, St. Monica (she came into play later!)

And finally, believe it or not, the spiritual works of mercy continue to be a wonderful blueprint for family life - admonish the sinner, instruct the ignorant, counsel the doubtful, comfort the sorrowful, bear wrongs patiently, forgive all injuries, pray for the living and the dead.