Summer in the Little Oratory~ Chapter One

 

Let's talk about Chapter 1.

Funny thing happened on the way to this first installment;-).

The Podcast Take 1 had some glitchy audio. I didn't hear it when we recorded because, well, I don't hear at all in my right ear, so with headphones on I sometimes miss things. Big things. Christian tried to fix it. Joy tried to fix it. James (Joy's husband) tried to fix it. I got tired and frustrated and the whole household was talking about Mommy's podcast and The Little Oratory. At one point, Sarah Annie was listening to it with headphones. Such is life around here sometimes.

The next morning Leila was very gracious (really, very, very gracious) and we agreed to re-record it late in the afternoon. In the meantime, a conversation began with my children. 

"What exactly is a Little Oratory?"

"Should we do it?"

"Do we already do it?"

"Why is it beneficial?"

And off we went, discussing the first chapter and more. It's a discussion that continues today.

The Second Take is better than the first. But there are still audio glitches. This time, Sarah jumped in and cheerfully helped me to polish it in post-production. Bear with us, the sound does improve right around the 2 minute mark. 

So, without further ado, here's our little chat for you. You can download the audio by right clicking and choosing "save link as" or you can right click and open with iTunes:

An aside that is a bit off topic but not really: Towards the end, it is 5:00 in my house. My cellphone was on silent, but I forgot that muting one's phone does not mute the alarms. You will hear "chapel bells" chiming to remind me to pray for my husband on the hour. They go off all day long, each hour designated to pray for something specific: his friends, his health, his job, his role as a father... It's probably very "unprofessional" to have the chimes go off, but, well, it's sort of fitting, too, isn't it? Those are not prayers of the Liturgy of the Hours, but they are most definitely the prayers that go with the Hours to pace the rhythm of my day. So, yes, the chimes are part of the real life "charm" of this particular recording. Unintentional, but there you go...

I'd love for you to listen in and then to talk to us about your own prayer space and how you envision bringing this life of prayer into your home. And, if you don't yet have your very own copy of The Little Oratory, it's not too late! Order away, listen in, and join us anyway. Just to make my point that it's absolutely not too late, I'm offering a fresh, lovely copy of the book to one of you who comment below with your own thoughts about the topics we've discussed in the podcast.

As you listen, you'll hear Auntie Leila refer to these posts on Like Mother, Like Daughter:

Visiting Therese

Praying with children

 

Sacred Sundays

 

Family Dinner

 

 

 

Please let us know what you're thinking about The Little Oratory. Leave a link to your post below. and please, please, let's talk! If you don't have a blog, you can still join in. Share thoughts with us below and soon, there will be a place for photo sharing on Like Mother, Like Daughter. We can do this together this summer. I'm so looking forward to it!

Listen to the whole Summer in the Little Oratory Series!

Chapter 1::The Christian Life: bringing it home

Chapter 2:: Home is a Very, Very Good Thing

Chapter 3:: Making the Little Oratory in the Home

Chapter 4:: Towards Living the Liturgical Year at Home

Chapter 5:: Praying the Hours and Sanctifying Every Moment

The Giveaway Winner is Marcia, who wrote, "I loved the podcast and that we need to keep brainstorming ideas to cement the beauty of incorporating the family dinner (at least weekly) into our busy lives. I appreciated the encouragement and that there isn't always a 'one size fits all' approach. I soaked up the grace last Sunday after I planned a 'hot lunch" for the family which although was more labour intensive in the morning did lend to a more relaxing afternoon knowing it would only be eggs on toast for tea. I need to definately put in more effort decorating the table and look forward to pulling this off more often! I also want to try Ann Voskamp's beautiful printable grateful jar notetags and perhaps hand them out to everyone around the table and store in a pretty jar as a visual to remind us to keep on counting our blessings! 
Thanks Elizabeth and Leila and keep the great ideas coming!"

An InLinkz Link-up

A Glitch or Two

Any moment now, there will be a post here with a podcast with Auntie Leila and the grand kickoff of our Summer in the Little Oratory book study. Any moment. Just as soon as we get past the technical glitch. Stay tuned. I promise to be right back.

And any moment, I'm also going to tell you all about Sarah's ebook all about Teaching From Rest. She actually, truly has a guide to unshakeable peace. Imagine that?

After that glitch is unglitched. 

I was up way too late last night, fussing at glitches. But His mercies are new every morning and so, today, I'm greeting the dawn determined to bring you something beautiful very soon. And not to throw my computer across the room and turn into something that rhymes with glitch. 

Prayers appreciated;-)

{Also, when the glitches start crawling in my ear and taking up residence in my head and I'm really, truly struggling to find a state of rest, I limit my online time to creative blogs. They are usually the breezy breath of fresh air that forces its way into my lungs and propels me into the sewing room where my fingers take over and my head gets a rest. This post moved me to tears. It's a fabric line introduction--likely won't do a thing for you. But for me? Well, I just get it. I really do. }

This is for Ginny

It's Throwback Thursday and Ginny is making pie, so I'm reviving an old post from the old kitchen blog:-). Strawberries aren't yet ready where we usually pick them, so old pictures will do nicely this morning.

 

 

I  have an awesome pie recipe that works well with blueberries and even peaches (add a little cinnamon). Below, I tossed a few peaches in with the strawberries. I like to play with this recipe. It's forgiving and if it doesn't quite hold together, no one ever seems to mind.

Baked Pie Shell

1 quart fresh strawberries or blueberries

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup water (plus some extra for the cornstarch)

3 Tbsp cornstarch

1 Tbsp lemon juice

whipped cream

• For strawberry pie, fill pie shell with 3 cups strawberries. (I slice them in half.)
• Crush 1 cup berries in pot. Add sugar and water and bring to a boil. Remove from heat.
• Mix cornstarch with a little cold water and whisk slowly into berry mixture. Cook until clear and thickened.
• Remove from heat. Add lemon juice.
• For strawberry pie, pour glaze over filled pie shell. For blueberry pie, pour 3 cups blueberries into glaze and stir until coated, then pour into pie shell.
• Chill and serve with REAL whipped cream.

{The original recipe came from my friend Barbara who experimented further with fruit pies.}

Our two favorite farms are Hartland Orchard in Markham, Virginia and Homestead Farm (over the Potomac from Leesburg via ferry) in Poolesville, Maryland. 

I can hardly wait!

Let's Spend the Summer in the Little Oratory

“You’re always looking for home,” she said. “For as long as I’ve known you and in your reminiscences of the time before then, you’ve always been seeking home—trying to create it, to nurture it, to settle into it. You are all about safe havens.”

She’s right, I see. I look back over a lifetime of nearly half a century and I’ve always been restless and determined at the same time. Restless, because I hungered for home for a very long time. Determined, because as soon as I was the wife and the mother in the scenario, I endeavored to create the place I’d long been seeking.

There is a little desk in my home, above it are hung icons, upon it are still more icons and a wooden cross given to me by the missionary friend who observed my need for home from her own faraway mission house.  There has always been such a place in our home, a corner or a nook, a place set apart from the brisk efficiency of the rest of the house, yet still at the heart of my home. It’s a place where my day begins, in sometimes fleeting silence, with the Lover of my soul. It’s the place where my children know they can find me as morning washes over the house. I never knew it had a name. But it does. It’s the Little Oratory.

Situated there in the front room, between two pretty windows, I pass by it dozens of times every day. The icons and the statues change as the seasons change and as our prayer needs change. I like to leave it mostly uncluttered and so, I store items in the desk and usually keep the dropdown door closed. I’m sure somewhere along the way, I must have read about a place like this, but it seems to have grown there on its own, a gift of grace. It is the actual meeting of my needs, I am sure, that has grown organically over 25 years of mothering—a need for the constant reminder of the Lord and His friends, with me always, cheering on this endeavor, offering real and tangible helps towards holiness; and a need for the prayer that happens in this space throughout the day.

I’ve never had a crisis of faith. Never. All my life, by some great grace, I’ve believed God is real and the He loves me and that He offered His life to save mine. I have experienced crises of religion—moments or seasons of doubt about what is the way that God intends for man to approach Him. And somehow, by the same grace that created an oratory in my home when I didn’t even know such a thing existed, I reached in those times of doubt for the Liturgy of the Hours. And Jesus met me there. Every time.

For years now, my day has been anchored by the Liturgy of the Hours. Morning begins with the Office of Readings and Morning Prayer. I seek Him again at noontime and again at the hour of mercy. Days end in the bedroom of my three littlest girls, praying Night Prayer together. And if the youngest does not fall asleep in prayer, she requests Evening Prayer following Night Prayer. Every night, she wants to fall asleep to the sound of words of scripture rising in the ancient prayer of the Church. It’s just what we do. It’s good. It’s home.

And I can’t really tell you how we got here except to be very sure Jesus led us.

Last winter, sitting in the chair my children call “The Bible Chair,” I read about home. I read about a seamless life, a household infused with authentic Catholic culture. I read a way to infuse a house with the most important things that make it a home—a haven in which all who enter grow in holiness. It was a book of deep thoughts and lofty ideas, it was a book that can and will change the culture, one family at a time. Admittedly, there were times when I put that PDF version aside (a little frustrated with readability of the advanced copy, but mostly feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all). I’d look up at what I already had, think about what we already did, and wonder to myself, “How am I ever going to fully embrace even more?”

Today, I flip through my beautiful (and easy-to-read) real, live book version and I see that at the very beginning I’ve underlined “Isn’t all of this to help us through life rather than to make it more difficult?”

Yes. Yes, it is. The whole point of Liturgy is to bring us closer to God and the closer we are to Him, the more we are open to the grace freely given to sustain us. Your oratory won’t look like my oratory. More importantly, your oratory won’t live like my oratory. At its essence, oratory means house of prayer. Every family lives differently in such a home. No doubt, the vocation to create such a place is a high calling and an endeavor for a lifetime.

But you can do it.

The moment when I knew that this book would become dog-eared and tattered, that it would be a gift to every new bride in our family? The moment I read these words:

Freedom is the watchword. In this book, we are trying to present traditions in the hopes that they will attract your imagination and help your prayer life and that of your family. Of necessity, we are trying to be as complete as possible. But if all this information and detail is not helping, don’t feel burdened. The traditions are just ways of doing that have the blessing of being time-tested, but they are not meant to be rules or rigid, constricting thoughts that take all your energy.

If something sparks and helps your creativity, then we’ve succeeded and the idea has succeeded. If not, let it go. Prayer is simply a relationship with God, who knows you and loves you, not a prescribed set of actions or ideas to check off. You can do it however you like.

What’s the Little Oratory? It’s not a decorating style. It’s not liturgically correct cupcakes (though you may decorate and eat cupcakes if you like and someone will, no doubt, love you for it). It’s not a to-do list. It’s both a physical and a spiritual place to meet God and to enter into a deep and personal relationship with Him that will bless you and spill out onto everyone you meet.

Let’s spend the summer in that place.  Come every Wednesday. We’ll read a chapter at a time. We’ll share ideas and struggles and triumphs. Leila Lawler, whose thoughtful words have brought us this keeper of a book, will be here, too. You’ll hear her voice as we talk together and share podcasts that further personalize the daily living out of this seamless life of faith. Come back! Bring your friends! Let’s grow together in faith and grace and abundant summer joy!

In Praise of the Babymoon

It was one of those days when I’d ventured out into the world and wondered, wished, really, for the seemingly impossible. It was an “in the world, but not of the world” kind of day, only the world was winning. If only the whole world operated on a Catholic mindset. If only everyone understood that the primary purpose of a marriage is to create and nurture a family. If only they understood that this work — this blessed, beautiful work of welcoming and raising precious souls entrusted to the care of parents — is the best, most important thing. If only they’d quit heaping assignment upon assignment and deadline upon deadline.

As I moved from one earthly demand to another, trying (and often failing) not to rush, not to stress, not to bend and break under the pressures of our culture, I wished that all those frayed edges could just be woven together into a simple weekend at home. I wanted to tell all the people, the ones who were pushing and pulling and tearing away at the fiber of peace and order at home, that this isn’t the way we are all created. This isn’t how it was meant to be. We are Sabbath people. We need rest. Further, we need time together as a family to learn all those important things that people in families teach one another. Things like prudence and temperance and justice and fortitude. It is my considered opinion that the world is sorely in need of more families committed to virtue, so that as we move in the world, the world is a little more sane.

I rushed through that day, from doctor to grocery to dance school to a hurried piling in the car of one young soccer player and a drive at sunset to goalie training. Just as we got there, the heavens opened up and lightning crackled overhead. “Go!” said his coach. “Go find shelter and sit out the storm for at least a half hour.” Nick and I looked at each other and grinned. Just seven minutes away was a shelter like no other in its warmth and light. As the lightning continued to crackle while we drove, Nick grinned victorious — he knew that the 30 minute clock reset with every latest lightning flash. Now we can stay until 7:37. Now 7:40. Now 7:44. If we get to 8:00, maybe they’ll just cancel the whole training.

We stepped into the pounding rain and ran up all 35 steps, and there, there in the warm, dry glow of evening at home, was Lucy. Nick didn’t even ask, but scooped her up into his damp arms and settled happily against the quilt-strewn couch. For the next hour and a half (practice was canceled after all), we were privileged to enter into the haven that is a newborn baby.

Lucy is my first granddaughter. I suppose I could gush at great length about how amazing she is and how wondrous the last week has been since she came into our world, but I think I’ll just mention instead, that a “babymoon” is a very good thing.

A babymoon is that time when a new mother and father wholeheartedly devote themselves to learning all about their baby and, even more, to dancing together as a family. It’s a sleep-deprived, hazy existence that centers around the very basics of a child’s eating and sleeping. It’s ridiculously simple and at the same time all-encompassing and uniquely demanding. It’s one of the few times in the life of a family that all the world stands a bit apart and affirms the need a family has for quiet and rest and understanding and unwavering support. A miracle happens in a home where there is a babymoon, and those of us who can stop, even for a few moments, and bask in the glow of the good are blessed beyond compare to even stand on the periphery.

Like every other family, this little family will one day juggle schedules and carpools and missing ballet slippers. They will worry about budget and books. They will seek that elusive “balance” between work and leisure. For now, though, they are granted the great gift of seeing clearly that the only important thing is right before them, that a baby sees most clearly the eyes of the person who loves her when she’s held at the lover’s heart. Close. There is no doubt that something happens to the one who beholds a child held there. He becomes a better version of himself.

The storm outside clears, and we must leave, going down all those steps and into the night, going out into traffic and faulty defoggers and cell phones that don’t stop ringing. The scent of the newborn still on our hands, we reach up and rub weary eyes. Inhale. We take her with us — the very essence of the best of us.

Perhaps a babymoon shouldn’t be reserved only for families with newborns. Perhaps, like second honeymoons, it would benefit families to revisit the babymoon on occasion. The art of raising holy children — the work of becoming our Creator’s best vision of ourselves — takes time and careful attention. It cannot happen in the constant rush to get somewhere else with maximum efficiency. It cannot happen when a smartphone screen is the first impulse in the morning and the last touch of the evening. Maybe it’s time to come in out of the storm and gather into our arms a precious soul — no matter how old — who longs to be held just for a while at only a heart’s distance.

 {All photos credited to Michael and Kristin Foss}