Cry Out to Jesus

"The cry of a baby is God's voice; 

never turn them away."

- Pope Francis

  

    At no surprise to anyone, babies, especially newborns, cry. They cry when they are hungry, they cry when they need a diaper change, they cry when they wake themselves up, they cry when they are fighting a nap, they cry when you just aren't doing what they want you to do. Despite knowing this, I found myself bouncing baby girl, whispering, "please don't cry, please don't cry, please don't cry," on the first day we attempted to go to daily Mass. Having been a regular at daily Mass when I was younger, I thought that maternity leave might be a great time to start getting back in the habit. While I did take my screaming baby out of church right after Communion that day, I'm glad we went back the next day.

    Within a week, we had a system down. We would get up with Daddy, eat first breakfast and take a nap during which I would take us to Mass. Baby girl would sleep the whole time in my arms, sleeping through me taking her out of her carseat, wrapping her in love blankets (more on those next week) and finding a pew. We take the last seat in the Chapel closest to the door......just in case. But for the last few weeks, baby girl has slept and all the daily Mass goers have fawned over her perfection. That was until one day last week.

     We arrived at the Chapel a little before Mass and this time, baby girl woke up when I took her out of her carseat. I thought, we can try this, but I'm not certain we will make it through Mass without a cry fest. Not even five minutes of sitting in Chapel passed before I made the decision to walk out of Chapel and walk her around to see if she would calm. Nope. This girl was hungry and she was going to let everyone know it. As I walked with her, talking to her and telling her it was going to be okay, we passed one of my favorite Italian ladies going into the Chapel. "Oh child," she said (to me, not to baby,) "she can cry in there; we don't mind." I thanked her but knew that baby girl was not going to quiet until she ate and so home we went. We returned the next day and she slept through Mass again.

     Then yesterday happened. We were sitting in our usual seat; last seat, last pew, by the door, just in case. She was sleeping when we first got there, but then someone sneezed and she started to wake. There's a sweet spot between when she first wakes up from a nap and when she starts stirring for food, during which she is bright-eyed, alert and her eyes are wandering in discovery. I prayed this would last during the remainder of Mass. Her eyes searched the Chapel, watching all the shadows dancing in the stained glass. She got the hiccups right before the consecration and the people around us turned to smile and laugh. I couldn't help but laugh, too; they were adorable. After Mass, everyone affirmed her cute hiccups. Okay, I thought, maybe we can sit through Mass while being awake. 

      Then today happened. We were sitting in our usual seat; last seat, last pew, by the door, just in case. She was very awake when we pulled into the church parking lot but she had just ate so she shouldn't be hungry, at least not for another hour. She was pretty content, watching the shadows and this time really staring at our priest. He was wearing red today, for the martyrs, Cosmos and Damian, so naturally her eyes were following him. But right about the Gospel, she got fussy and when she gets fussy, especially when she's fighting a nap, she doesn't like it if she's not being rocked. So when I sat down for the Homily, baby girl wasn't having it. I was about to give up and use our exit plan when I remembered what my favorite Italian lady said, "she can cry in here; we don't mind." So, I stood while everyone else sat or knelt and we made it through Mass, despite the fact that baby girl was a little fussy. At the end of Mass, multiple people came up to her (as they do every day) and affirmed her using her voice in Mass. They loved hearing her making noises and crying; they told her to keep praying; they smiled and gushed over how wonderful it was to have a baby with them every day. Even our priest shook her little hand after Mass and affirmed her voice. This made me happier than anyone could imagine.

     You see, I have always been on the side for babies in church, no matter how much noise they make. Jesus said, "let the Children come to me." But I have seen how some daily congregants and some priests treat the crying babies in church and subsequently their young moms. I was nervous about experiencing this and having just moved into this Parish, I wasn't sure how our priest or congregation would feel if a. I brought her to daily Mass and b. she cried or fussed during Mass. In a small Chapel, it's very easy to find the baby and her mother. There's no doubt that if you're holding a fussy baby, all eyes are on you. But I've learned in the past few days that not only do the people accept us, they also don't mind if she gets fussy every once in a while. I may not know any of their names, but they know baby girl and they seem to love her on her good days and her bad days.

      As I was rocking baby girl back and forth in the Chapel today, I kept thinking of what my favorite Italian woman said, "She can cry in here; we don't mind." It was reassuring that these people, my people, accepted my crying, fussy baby and understood that I was doing my best. But it also made me think deeper. How many of us, for any given reason, have wanted to cry during Mass. I don't know about you, but since church is my safe space, I often feel safe enough to release my overwhelming emotions and cry there. So many of us have felt ashamed or embarrassed to cry in our churches. If baby girl can cry out in Mass, why can't we? Okay, so maybe during Mass isn't the best time or place to literally cry out to Jesus, but our churches and our chapels are meant to be places where we can cry, we can talk, we can converse with Jesus. We can cry out to Jesus no matter how we feel on any given day. Instead of feeling like we shouldn't, may we embrace the wisdom of the Italian woman and bring our tears (and laughter and coos) to Jesus; we don't mind if you do. May we be as free as baby girl and feel peace in letting Jesus hear our cries. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmVxRl5bc4Y

Due Date: December 25th

"You know what the great thing about babies is?

They are like little bundles of hope. Like the future in a basket."

- Lish McBride

Baby Ella
Born: 12/19/2013
2:03 AM 6.2lbs 19.4 inches

     In the past year I have witnessed many families welcome a new baby into the family. My next door neighbor welcomed a little cherub into the family the week of Thanksgiving. My god-daughter celebrated her first year of baby life. Many others celebrated new births in their family, including my friend, Heather. She awaited the birth of her little girl with so much energy, none like I had ever seen. Every day I could look forward to opening Facebook to see a post from a very excited Mama. I felt so blessed to watch her journey of pregnancy bloom into something so beautiful: a lovely baby girl. Ella came a day earlier than expected and I laughed knowing that she's going to go up to be just like her Mama; excited about life and anxious to do anything God asks of her.

     While I clicked through the pictures of baby Ella on facebook, I remembered back to Thanksgiving 2012. The very next day my family got a phone call. Baby Emily was born. A few days later, another phone call, this time asking me to be the godmama of the little cherub. How could I say no? I remembered the excitement surrounding the birth of this baby, number seven in a long line of brothers and sisters. I remembered back even further to when my little sister, Lizzie, was born. I was sitting in the sixth grade classroom with Mrs. Rocco when the secretary got on the loudspeaker to announce that my little sister had been born. I couldn't wait to go see her. It seems that in my life, there is a running theme. Whenever there is a new baby born, immediately the world is notified. Phone calls are made, pictures are taken, text messages are sent, facebook statuses are updated, tweets are tweeted, everyone knows. 

     The birth of Heather's little one reminded me of all the joy surrounding a baby. She was always uploading pictures of her ultrasounds, of her belly and of her favorite little girl quotes. It was easy to catch her energy surrounding her baby that even I found myself counting down the days til Ella's due date. Ella was supposed to be born on a Friday very early, but instead, on the day before her due date, I woke up to pictures of the little one. I actually cried out of excitement that the cherub had finally graced us with her presence. It made me so happy to see the pictures of the angel, mama and daddy. I was beaming with happiness when suddenly it hit me...Jesus. 

     Around this time 2000 some years ago, Mary was anxiously awaiting her little one...while riding a donkey...while traveling to Bethlehem...while not being able to find any room at the inn...while hunkering down in a cave with some farm animals... I find it that often we focus on the poverty and humility of Mary, Joseph and Jesus that we tend to miss the happiness of the birth of the baby. Jesus was born into poverty and by humble means, but not so much on her joy. Father Mooney, at the Spanish Mass on Sunday, the last Sunday of Advent, mentioned this in his homily. He spoke about the joy that surrounds the birth of a baby. 

     We remember what Mary said when the angel came to visit her: "My Soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord and my spirit REJOICES in God, my Savior." SHE REJOICED! SHE WAS ECSTATIC! Then she went and visited her cousin, Elizabeth. It was then that John the Baptist, the babe within Elizabeth's womb, LEAPT FOR JOY! Like, hey girl, baby's a comin', better get excited. The joy, the happiness, the expectancy of the child of God. I often imagine what Mary was going through in those hours before the birth: pain, desire for the test to be over, and yet, JOY. Tired, exhausted, yet rejoicing at the birth of the babe. 

      While there was no phones with which to call Mary or Joseph's family with the news, no emails to be sent, no tweets tweeted, no facebook statuses updated or even pictures taken, the world still knew of Jesus' birth. The star shone bright in the sky and the shepherds came to adore Him. There was celebration; quiet, humble, beautiful celebration. Jesus was still celebrated, not in the same way as Baby Ella, but with much joy from his parents. 

     Last night, at midnight Mass, I thought once again of Heather, Ryan and Ella. I imagined the beautiful little babe sound asleep and then I looked at the manger where Jesus was laid. I felt a bit of grief for the child who came to save us. This year, His birthday seemingly hasn't been celebrated with great joy. This beautiful birth wasn't marked by selfies with the birthday boy, snap videos of singing happy birthday, shout-out tweets or statuses. The world has seemingly forgot the joy this child brought 2000 some years ago. However, I thought about how many little churches were marking the birth of the child by celebrating Mass. We were celebrating it last night, the same way Mary and Joseph did. He was brought into the world with a quiet, excited joy and that's how he was celebrated last night. 

     While the celebration was small at Midnight Mass, I couldn't help but laugh at the one single baby in the back of church who shouted and clapped his hands throughout the Mass. This kid was celebrating Jesus the same way Heather, Ryan and their families celebrated Ella: WITH GREAT JUBILATION. I smiled and felt in my heart, a kick of joy. Oh hey Jesus, there You are...I felt Jesus in my heart, crying, shouting, like a cutesy little baby. I was reminded that, while as a Parish community, we quietly commemorated the birth of Jesus in the humble style of Mary and Joseph, it was my turn to celebrate Jesus like Heather and Ryan. Perhaps, back then, when Jesus was born, there was no means to proudly celebrate the child (and in truth, they couldn't because of King Herod...). But now, there is such means and I plan on celebrating Jesus loud and proud in the style of Heather, Ryan and Ella: loud, proud and with GUSTO!

      Congrats on your new little one, Heather and Ryan. Know that baby Ella has reminded me once again how I need to celebrate Jesus, the little one. Thank you for letting me witness the beauty of your journey of giving life. Truly, that was my Christmas miracle. 

A Few of My Favorite Things: Nuns and Babies Part Two

"Holding a baby is one of the most beautiful things in the world.

How all they do is wave their arms and reach for your 

face and watch your every move. The way their little fingers

wrap all around your single one and their tiny toes

squirm all about. And when they sleep, surely it's an angel

in your arms. It's as beautiful holding the new life as it is 

holding the hand of an elderly person.

The peace is unexplainable."

- "Becca-ism"

    I cannot help but continue to reiterate how blessed my year has been. I am continuously simply in awe of His mighty goodness. I am so grateful for all God has given me. Once before, not too long ago, I did a blog post on nuns and babies. Well, friends, here's a part two. God has been so generous to me that I simply good not pass up this chance to once again proclaim my love for nuns and babies.

    Last night, slightly spur of the moment, my Dad, little sister and I decided to visit my aunt, uncle and seven cousins. Yes, that's right, I said seven cousins. You see, in our family, having lots of kids is pretty common. My Uncle Charlie and Aunt Maryanne have taken the cake on having the most kids. Not only that, but they also have the youngest kids, the youngest of whom is my most precious God-daughter. Last week, Emily turned one. That's a big deal for a little princess, you know. So part of our reason to go over was to give her her present. When we got there, it was close to seven. When we left, it was close to nine. Those two hours went by faster than you can believe.

    I'm known to be the biggest little kid in my family. I'm always the older cousin running around with the babies. I'm usually outside playing football with the younger boys or playing teacher or dress up with the girls. I'm not the older cousin who stands around contemplating the universe over a wine cooler. Nope, I'm playing with the kids. Last night was no different. I walked into the living room and as my dad tackled his brother, I wrestled the two boys into a big hug. My cousins, Albert and Charles, were dressed in super hero pajamas and so, being the teacher that I am, I asked them all about the superheros. Then I asked if I could be one. So, guess who I got to be?! Wonderwoman. I didn't know this, but apparently she has a lasso that forces the person in the lasso to tell the truth. So, I started a little game with the boys. If I caught them in my arms, my "lasso," they had to tell me one truth. Well our truths turned into riddles which the other made up. At 8 o'clock, the clock chimed and my aunt told the boys they had to go to bed. They almost cried because they didn't want to. Heck, I even cried. So, I asked if I could take the boys up to bed. 

       Now, I forgot to mention that every time one of the boys got an answer right to the question while in the lasso, they got a turkey five. They loved this and it had them deep belly laughing. It had me hysterically laughing, too. When we got to the top of the stairs, the boys were supposed to go to the bathroom and then go brush their teeth. Well, as little boys tend to do, they did NOT want any parts of this at all. So, I told them they if they didn't do their bedtime routine, they wouldn't get a Turkey Five. Didn't that do the trick?! Of course, I think the boys' favorite part was riding me up the stairs. Long ago, I had mastered the method of being able to carry at least three kids on me at one time. With only two of them, it was easy. Albert was on my back and Charles clung to me like a baby koala bear on the front. When they finished in the bathroom, they got to ride dinosaur Becca to their bedroom. Then I stood up, rolled down the blankets, and catapulted them into their beds. Of course, I had to tickle them until they laid down and then I tucked them in. My aunt came in for a good night kiss and then I demanded one, too. Of course, my good night kiss ended in a little blessing on their foreheads. 

       While I didn't get to hold my goddaughter much last night since she herself was getting ready for bed, I did get to play with her little brothers. Children, I very firmly believe, are closer to the angels than I'll ever be during my time here on Earth. In fact, they are angels themselves. I never tire of hanging out with my little cousins and I really wish they could all stay so little forever. My cousins give me the chance to be the kid I have inside. They give me a chance to kiss and hug angels. They give me a chance to play with the divine. I went home last night and couldn't have been happier. One might think that spending all this time with kids would make me want to have kids of my own and yes, this is true. But more often then not, spending time with all these kids make me want only be a that crazy Sister aunt lady who gets to play with all the kids because she doesn't have any of her own. This is especially so when my cousins answer the riddle: What do you call a traveling nun? By saying, "You, Becca?" Ha, yes, kids, I am an eventual traveling nun.

        When talking about my adventures with the kiddos last night, I mentioned that playing with them is as close to the divine as I can get aside from holding the hands of the elderly. This morning, I was blessed enough not only to go to Mass at the SBS Motherhouse, where my good friend, Katie D, once lived, but also to visit my other good friend, Sister Ruth Catherine. I had been told that Sister's memory is going and I was nervous that she wouldn't recognize me but when I went up to her room after Mass, she was so excited to see "her Becky." She had me sit down on her bed and then we chatted. I found triumph in only having to retell one story twice; all the others we only had to do once. Today was a good day for her. Toward the end of our visit, after asking me about how much I love teaching, she asked: "You know, Becky, I know you'll make a great teacher. Have you ever thought of religious life?" Sister Ruth asks me this question during every visit, I think because she just wants the thrill of hearing me say yes. So today, I told her: "All the time, Sister. In fact, never have I felt this much peace in my life until finally admitting to myself that I know where and to whom I belong." She grasped me hand, kissed my forehead and spoke with such joy in her voice. I smiled, almost cried, and thanked God for yet another triumph. She later linked my arm as we walked out of her room and I kissed her cheek goodbye with the reminder that I am always praying for her. She's simply beautiful.

       Yes truly, a few of my favorite things are nuns and babies. This Thanksgiving break, I got both my nun fix and my baby fix. I was so happy. I am so grateful. Both of these events gave me enough joy and stamina to get through these next two weeks of school before Christmas break. There is much to look forward to in these last two weeks and I know there will be so much for which I am grateful. Thank you, God, for baby cousins and nuns! And just a shout out to my favorite missed connection nun who called me while I was in the middle of this blog post: How big WAS that Rudolph blow up in the yard? Love you, AF! 

A Few of My Favorite Things: Nuns and Babies

"You know what this [the habit] does for me?

It allows me to hold babies, hold hands, and hold hearts.

I can listen to a person's story and simply say, 'I can't do much, 

but I can pray for you.' That's what I love."

- Sister Miriam George

     People are constantly telling me that I would be a good mother. I love that. Some people might think that it makes things awkward, but in reality, it doesn't. It confirms my whole life. Yes, I've had moments in my life where I dreamed of having six or seven babies of my own. But one time, my favorite English teacher in high school told me, "People may say you'd make a good mother, Bec, and they're right. But the truth is, to make a GREAT nun, you need to first make a good mother." What he meant was, a great Sister is maternal; she should make a good mother. If she wouldn't make a good mother, well than how else would she be able to love all those with whom she comes in contact? So, when people tell me I would make a good mother, I always say, "Well, I do love babies...everyone else's babies." It's true. If there was every a group of people I could possibly love more than the Sisters, it would be babies. 

     Last night at school, we had yet another "Tuesday with Dorothy." It was part two of a three part lecture series on Dorothy Day, civil rights activist, journalist AND most awesome woman of her time. Giving this talk was Brother Mickey, an oblate, an artist and a Camden resident. I have met Brother Mickey on many occasions and I was super excited to hear him talk about our girl, Dorothy. I was so excited with Sister Mary told about this talk, but my heart dropped when I found out it would take place during my class. Hoping that I could spread the love, I emailed my professor and asked if we could take a field trip. He denied the request, however, he gave me personal permission to go to the talk for a half hour if I reported back to the class some fun information. So, I did just that.

     Upon walking into the lecture hall, I saw many of my dear Sisters. I wasn't surprised actually, but it was a joyous shock to see so many of my dearhearts. As I was searching for a seat with easy exit access (so I wouldn't make a scene leaving halfway through), Sister Miriam George caught my attention. Now, there are multiple reasons why I love this woman, but one of the main reasons is because we share the same height. Yes, she is a fellow little person like me. Of course, I also love her for her prayerfulness, her undying love, her having adopted me her little sister (literally...that happened once), her literal jumping for joy when I share good news and her pure joy of life. I smiled as she waved me over to her seat, and I sat down next to her. Somehow, we started talking about habits.

      I'm not quite sure how the subject came up, but it was a good conversation. I told her how that idea had come up during lunch among the faculty members the other day and so we began sharing views. Here I was, talking to a woman in a full IHM habit, talking about what she was wearing. Thank goodness she didn't comment on my workout clothes, haha! I shared how I could easily see both views: wearing a habit and not wearing a habit. This simply came from my experiences with all types of communities; some who wear full habits and some who wear lay clothes. I can easily understand why a community of sisters wouldn't wear a habit (e.g. safety, to fit in more with the people, to not take away from ministry, etc.) and why a community would choose to wear a habit (e.g. symbolism, simplicity, vow of poverty, togetherness, etc.). Of course, as I was saying this, I made sure not to let my personal bias slip out (I am an English major after all...). So, when she asked my opinion, I was happy to give it. I told her the beauty I saw in a habit. I love the symbolism of it and the simplicity. I also mentioned how much I miss wearing my Naz Acad potato sack uniform. After I said that, she said the above quotation. I fell in love even more, especially when she said the part about the babies. 

      She told me this as she gently held my hand, telling me she was always praying for me, too. This I knew, of course, but she never fails to remind me that she is always, always, always praying for me. Wouldn't you know it, that as soon as we were finishing up our conversation, a woman with a baby walks into the room and sits down in front of us. First thing that happened after this? Sister George asks if she can see the baby. So open, so honest, so true. The young mom lifted the beautiful baby from her lap to show him off and not just Sister George was all googly eyes over the baby, but rather the entire room of Sisters suddenly turned their attention to the baby. Literally, all side conversations had stopped and every single Sister in the room turned to coo over the baby. I was in love. Not only was there a precious little 7 week old baby named Wesley in front of me, but all the Sisters around me were instantly ahhing over him. It was the cutest thing since I don't know when. 

      After a few minutes, Wesley went back to his mother's lap to rest. Sister George leaned over and said, "See?" and smiled. I couldn't help but laugh from pure joy. Soon enough, the presentation began and I didn't really get a chance to reflect on the NUNS AND BABIES event that had just happened, but I felt a peace in my heart as I listened to all the stories of women with young babies who were helped by Dorothy Day. It was beautiful. 

      Today, as I was driving back to school from home, I found myself stuck in standstill traffic. Yes, my friends, standstill traffic. I won't complain, but I will tell you that I literally sat in my car for an hour on the turnpike without moving an inch. After ten minutes, I turned my car off and turned the music on my phone on. But then after twenty minutes, my cell phone died. How was I to occupy myself? I couldn't talk to my neighbors because their windows were down and I really shouldn't be reading because traffic could move at any moment. So, I pulled out my rosary and began to pray. As I was praying, I reflected on last night's events of NUNS AND BABIES. I smiled, remembering my dreams and hopes for the future. 

      I always tell my friends and family that they all need to have multiple babies so I can play with them all at family parties. I have always had this dream of being that crazy Sister aunt who plays with the kids, sits at the kids table, and spoils them with hugs and kisses and lots of love. I have a goal of being the favorite aunt (as if it was obvious...as if that's even a questionable idea). I have often had the conversation with my cousin about being the babysitter for her children and the god-mother. Whenever there is a baby around, I will be holding him or her. My cousin assured me that there will be plenty pictures of Sister Becca holding babies. I always laugh when she says that. 

       As I prayed, I also reflected on Sister George's words. So many believe that being a Sister is a lonely life, that we can't really do much. But in truth, we can do so much more. Sisters can devote themselves to the poor, to the ones who need love. Sisters can stop at any moment to pray with a person, to hold their baby, to hold their hands, to hold their hearts. Sisters can love unconditionally. I thought of all the times I had tried to love unconditionally, how I have always looked on with a maternal love. And of course, I remembered all the Sisters who had looked upon me with those same maternal eyes filled with love and compassion. I prayed for all those who need love, who I have loved and who have loved me. Of course, I also prayed for my favorite English teacher in high school, who helped me discover that making a good mother is a beautiful thing, especially when it will help me be a great Sister. 

My "Daughter" is every person whom God is calling me on to love.

I'm The Fairy Godmother...Again

"I know what every princess needs to live happily ever after.

Your troubles will soon be gone, worries will vanish, your soul will cleanse."

- Fairy Godmother, Shrek 2 

      A little less than three weeks ago while I sitting on my bed attempting to write my final paper for my Linguistics class on Speech Acquisition for the Deaf (it's actually a veryyyyy interesting topic) when my phone started ringing. When I looked at the caller ID, I panicked slightly when it read "Uncle Charles Home." First, how did he have my cell phone number? Second, WHY ON EARTH WAS HE CALLING ME AT SCHOOL??? "Hello?" I answered? "Rebecca!" my uncle replied with excitement. Only my aunts and uncles call me by my full first name. "What's up?" He answered by telling me I have a brand new cousin, Emily. This makes...oh...only 28 grandkids in the family. I was overjoyed. In my joy, I forgot that my uncle usually doesn't call the cousins personally to make them aware of the newest baby. They simply call the brothers.

      I could hear the other six kids in the background when my uncle put my Aunt Maryanne on speaker phone. "We have a question for you," they said in unison, "Would you be Emily's God-mother?"  I almost leapt off my bed because my heart was so happy. Yes! Yes! Yes! I was honored! I was ready to go scream to the whole campus that I was going to be a Godmother to my newest (and cutest) cousin. How awesome! I could hear a sigh of relief from the other side of the phone....as if I would say no...silly Uncle and Aunt! I smiled as we hung up. In a few weeks, I would get to see and hold and love and spoil my God-daughter, Emily.

       Yesterday was the Baptism. After staying up til 3:30 (which was the brightest idea), I was rolling out of bed at 8:15 and heading to the bookstore to get my God-daughter her gift. I tossed and turned all night long thinking what on earth I should get a one month old for her Baptism. A rosary? No....that's for First Communion. A bracelet? Nah...she'd probably eat it. A picture frame? With what picture. BOOKS! I'll get her BOOKS! It finally dawned on me. When I found out I was going to be a God-mother, I had class later that night with Professor Mooney, who of course asked what the baby's name was. When I said Emily, he responded by telling me I better teach her all about Emily Bronte and Emily Dickinson. So, I bought her a book of Emily Dickinson poetry for kids. Some may argue that she can't read, but she will be able to one day. Besides, it's because of the name. However, I also bought her two of my favorite books by Nancy Tillman: On The Day You Were (appropriate) and Wherever You Go, My Love Will Find You (which is about God's love...which we receive in Baptism, so there!) This kid will be reading the best literature before she can count to ten. Yes, that's my goal. Poor girl....not only did she receive God's love and grace through Baptism, but she also gained an English Major for a God-mom. 

      As a God-mother, there are certain duties one most take care of...you know, like dress the baby, change the baby, take pictures with the baby, love the baby, smile at the baby, hold the baby. But as a cousin (and niece), I also have duties. Like....harass the six other kids in the car by tickling them into their car seats and holding their hands into and out of church, bouncing them on my lap, messing up their hair and eating their cookies. Not only was I blessed to be a God-mother to my beautiful, littlest cousin, but I was blessed to be a cousin and a niece as well. 

      I love my family so much. I love how crazy we are, and how much we really look out for each other. I love our dads don't yell at their own kids but all the other ones and then harass the heck out of the ones that aren't in trouble. I love that our moms just roll their eyes and laugh as the dads turn back into brothers. I love that the older cousins get dirtier than the younger cousins when we are running around the house. I love that everyone bugs the new boyfriend/girlfriend. I love that the babies get handed around to every member of the family. I love when I get picked up and hung upside-down over banisters even though I'm twenty years old. Yes, I love my family and being with them at the Baptism really shows how deep our faith is especially when we are with each other. Faith is what grounds us, and it shows when the whole family comes together for the Sacraments....even if we go crazy at the "after Church party."

      I love my little baby cousin, Emily. I can't stop smiling at the picture my Aunt and Uncle gave me yesterday. She's beautiful and so stinking cute. I can't wait to see her all the time and love her up! While I got to spend a good amount of time with her yesterday morning, she crashed after the Baptism, giving me more time to spend with her brothers and sisters and our cousins. Some of my favorite moments yesterday were: Maria, who's 14 months old, passing out on the floor and sleeping the day away; Charlie, who's 4, grabbing my hand and then smacking me in the forehead with his other hand that was covered in Holy Water as we left the church; Chris, who's my Dad's God-son, getting punched in the eye which then resulted in me "trying to fix the eye" and my Dad chasing his brother who threw the punch (who happened to be Emily's God-father....); and Albert, who's 5, eating and hiding his cookies from the cookie monster who happened to be Uncle Larry. I just love my family so much. Enjoy the pictures!

She slept through the whole thing!

Posing...because we got kicked out of the other picture.

COUNT THE KIDS!

Yeah...my uncle's a hunter?

See what I mean by crazy....

....it runs in the family. 

I took his picture first!

She was a little jealous....

Then there was this kid who kept trying to get in our picture and no one knew who she was at all.....but she did tell me she liked my "Fairy God-Mother shoes."

The "Yay" Babies Make a Comeback

"But Jesus said, 'Let the children alone, 

and do not hinder them from coming to me; 

for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.'"

- Matthew 19:14

     A long, long, long, long, LONG time ago, I used to be a cantor at my home Parish. One morning, a morning I particularly did not want to be up at the crack of dawn, there seemed to be a lot of babies and toddlers at the nine am Mass. Ironically enough, they were all content, happy, and smiling. Not a single one was making any noise. I was flabbergasted. Finally, I got up to sing the entrance hymn. When the song was over, all I heard from the pews was "YAY!" and clapping hands soon followed by other clapping hands. I, of course, started to laugh. After every song I sang, the babies all did this. During no other part of the Mass did those babies and toddlers make a sound! At the end of Mass, I, too, was all smiles. Next weekend, those babies and toddlers were gone. Never again did I hear the crowd of "Yay" babies. That was until this morning.

     Once again, my family actually had to drag me out of bed for the early Mass. I'm as human as any other when it comes to wanting to sleep in! Trust me, if there is a nine and an eleven option for Mass, I'm taking eleven. Anyway, so dragging my feet (and every other part of my body), I went to the nine am Mass. As I was sitting in the pew with my aunt, little sister and Dad, I began to notice how many bouncing babes were in church. Three alone were in the pew in front of me. I couldn't count how many were on the other side of church or behind me. I smiled, instantly remembering that moment of the "Yay" babies. All these babies were being so perfect and quiet, too. I was just waiting for one of them to start shouting. And right at the consecration of the Eucharist, one little, outspoken girl from the back shouted "YAY!" and started clapping her hands. Before I knew it, all the babies were watching the consecration and clapping, too. I was amazed and in utter awe. I couldn't thank God enough for that moment.

     Later today, after Mass, my family and I headed to my cousins' parish in Ardsley where my youngest Kulesza "cousin" was baptized. Ironically enough, that baptism was anything but quiet. Once again, I was surrounded by the little ones. Some were crying, some were laughing, some were playing with their toys. They were everywhere! And father's Baptism "Homily" of sorts was all about letting the little ones come to Jesus. He openly admitted that most times, when talking about the truth of Jesus' love, the little ones know it better than we ever could. How true!

    I thought about the "Yay" Babies. They knew what was up! They knew exactly was what going on at Mass and truly understood it in their hearts. If we knew, if we really knew, wouldn't we be shouting and yelling praise for our God and our Jesus, our Savior!!??!! Let's really think about this: God, Jesus, is really, literally there in that moment. All we do is sit quietly, bowing our heads, and not even giving Jesus a glance! Yet, these little ones are literally shouting and screaming and clapping and crying for Him! Now, some may say, it is not socially accepted for grown adults to be clapping and shouting during Mass. Ok, I get that. We gotta have that respect thing going. And babies are excused because they are cute....I get it. But, here's my viewpoint on it: let's try to pay attention to what these kids have to say. THIS IS WHY JESUS SAID LET THE LITTLE ONES COME TO ME; THEY UNDERSTAND HIM! And if they are shouting praise at His name and clapping their little hands, well let them. If they are leading a parade around church during a Baptism, let them! If they are laughing and giggling during the Homily, let them. They are giving the ultimate praise and worship to JESUS, my friends!!! 

     And so, since I know most of you won't embrace your inner child during Mass, try to just give it a thought during the next Mass you are at. Instead of bowing your head, look Jesus straight in the eye during consecration. Instead of keeping quiet, let out a little "Hey, Jesus, I love You." And if your pew buddy looks at you weird, just turn to them and say, "Yo, Jesus is here. Don't you think I should acknowledge His presence?" Don't shush the real little ones, and don't shush the little one inside of you. EMBRACE YOUR INNER YAY BABY! JUST DO IT! Because, the truth is, my friend, those "Yay" Babies know what is going on, they get it, probably more than we ever will. Jesus is here. Let's celebrate Him!!! YAY BABIES!

      Congrats Kara and Matt on the Baptism of your youngest little one, Keegan Joseph. Also, I just found out my Uncle Charles and Aunt Mary-Anne just had their SEVENTH (they are Catholic, can you tell?) little one: Emily! Congrats to me and all my cousins on being cousins again! HAHA! I pray they become "Yay" Babies!