St. Therese, pray for us!

It is October 1, the Feast Day of St. Therese of the Child Jesus - The Little Flower and her Little Way. I looked forward to today with a sense of anticipation, eager to see how the Little Flower might make her way into the hearts of those I loved, showing all of us a hundred little ways of making her Little Way known to all. Butterflies will flutter by, music will play and rose petals will shower upon our home and family...

Ahem.

My visions of roses strewn about the house as fragrant proof of my children's and my prayers being heard and answered turned out to be dirty socks and school papers carelessly tossed and left to compost upon an unswept floor.

I was prepared to watch with deepest gratitude and joy for those hundreds of ways in which my little ones would make those little sacrifices for one another, quietly advancing in holiness.  But what I should have done was brace myself for an onslaught of petty bickering and commands gone unheeded.

And when Jay returned home from a hard day's work, I patiently waited for the children to rush up to him, shower him with love, eager to share with him all they had accomplished during the day.  He would lovingly dote upon them for a few moments, then gently set them aside to present his lovely wife with a beautiful rose.  Just because.  And trembling with anticipation, I would hold my breath awaiting his kiss.  Needless to say, had I not redirected the direction in which the evening was headed once Jay arrived home for dinner, I would still be waiting for this to happen.  And I'd be and turning an alarming shade of blue.

And of course, to celebrate the feast day, I had wanted to cook an elegant French dinner, worthy of royalty.  I wanted to teach the children how to say the table blessing in French.  And I wanted to learn how to make lace like Zelie.  But that is a lot of pressure - a pressure I put upon myself all too often.  And since my inner Martha Stewart is frequently hindered by a hundred little things that seem to get in the way, I have to make the best of what I have in front of me and had to compromise.

So what did I come up with?  I bought a dozen roses.  We had a simple dinner of salad, pasta and French bread (Yay!  It was French!) We watched the movie Therese.  And we polished off a plateful of French pastries when the movie was over.   Nothing fancy.  Nothing elaborate.  Just the Poppe family coming together to grow stronger in both love and faith.  And to eat chocolate eclairs.

Oh!  It was a grand time for the family, but misery for me.  I had visions of families all over the world, celebrating this holy Saint in ways much more beautiful and effective than we were doing.  I mourned the loss of yet another feast day, feeling as though we were celebrating it as an afterthought instead of the joyous occasion it should have been.  If only I had planned better.  If only I was able to coordinate an arts and crafts day to decorate the house.  If only we had prayed the novena!  What kind of mother am I, anyway, to allow our Saint to be celebrated in such an embarrassing way!

Despite, or perhaps because of this inner turmoil, I watched the movie with a hunger in my heart.  Her Little way was so little!  Yet so large.  Quiet as a sigh, yet its message was received as if it came to me in the form of a blaring trumpet.  The Little Way is nothing more than slowly dying to oneself, so that God may begin to live within.  Beautiful.

As the movie credits began, I marveled (though some in my family might have called it a monologue) out loud at how St. Therese was able to conquer her own will and mortify it for the sake of others and how in giving up herself, she gained Heaven.

I closed my eyes as I spoke, envisioning for a moment what my family might look like if we all followed her Little Way a little more closely.  Am I being called to release my inner Martha Stewart and let the 'Cassandra Poppe' come through instead, with all my quirks and imperfections, talents and gifts, to learn to express my love for my Catholic faith, my Lord and His Church in ways He designed me to do it?  Am I to release the pride and pressures of celebrating the way I feel we should celebrate and replace it with the humility to simply celebrate the way we are able to celebrate?  Could it be that St. Therese sent flowers upon me this day in ways I hadn't realized?

The last of the pastries had been passed and were quickly being eaten. Knowing time was short, I wrapped up my monologue.  "...so lets all pray for help in finding ways in which we, too, can offer up the little things each day, just as St. Therese did."  After a dramatic pause to bring it on home, I prayed "St. Therese of the Little Flower..."

To which my family answered, with hearts as full as their mouths, "Rayfomus!"

**sigh**  Baby steps.  Baby steps.

St. Therese, pray for us, indeed.