Rollin', Rollin', Rollin' on a....

I've been called many things in my day; bitch (admittedly), stubborn (guilty as charged), intolerant (I'm getting better), gossip-monger (sometimes, unfortunately), holy roller --- now just hang on a minute!!  I am NOT a holy roller!  Am I a practicing Catholic?  Yes. Do I teach CCD and Childrens' Liturgy on Sundays? Yes. Do I witness where and when I can about my Faith? Yes, but probably not as often as I should or could.  Hmmm...maybe I am a holy roller!  Nope, I'm sticking to my guns on this one; NOT a holy roller.

Actually, anyone who knows me, I think, would agree with my personal assessment...unless, of course, they're trying to get under my skin.  Fortunately for me, I don't have any friends like that.  Smirk.  

You see to me, a holy roller is an in-your-face, steam-rolling, often obnoxious witness to Christ and His church (whichever sect).  I don't want to work that hard.  If I get a vibe that bringing up my faith will not bring the conversation to a screeching halt, I may do just that.  But I may not.  I think, like politics, religion and faith are to be discussed at the 20,000 foot level; cocktail party chat to get to know your fellow invitees.  It's just safer that way.

That's not to say I haven't had some pretty heavy conversations and sometimes debates with family or friends because I absolutely have.  Or talks with those close to me who share my feelings and beliefs.  That's what helps feed us spiritually.  Hearing what people don't agree with or understand is, to me, just as important as what they do agree and understand.  Not to mention a better understanding of what their doctrines are.  But I tread lightly.  I wish everyone did too.

I was listening to a conversation over the summer about someone's Catholic church and the church's policy that if you don't go to church (read make your offering) weekly, your child is unable to attend CCD.  My church has that policy as well but this particular church, according to this mom, took it a step further and gave an actual monetary minimum.  I was kind of surprised but what do I know, right?  When I commented about how, without the weekly tithing they might not be able to even hold CCD classes, I was verbally attacked by another mom who is usually pretty mild-mannered with "DON'T PREACH TO ME ABOUT THE CATHOLIC CHURCH!!! I WAS RAISED A CATHOLIC AND THEY'RE ALL ABOUT THE MONEY! NO OTHER CHRISTIAN CHURCH WOULD DISALLOW A CHILD FROM CCD!"  Needless to say, I suddenly had a really important call to make and disengaged myself from the conversation!  Clearly there was some history there that I had no intention or desire to learn about.

Look, here's my point (which I knew would come to me eventually).  If you go to church every week, every day, or Christmas if you can fit it in, that's none of my business.  Who am I to say, "that's fine" or "that's not enough" or whatEVER?  Just like I don't want you to tell me how awful and rotten and political my religion is, or how priests are pigs and pedophiles because they can't get married (that was actually one of my favorite comments), I will respect your choices, actions, and beliefs.  Do I agree with or like everything my religion mandates?  No (sorry Mom).  I like a lot about your religion but disagree with probably just as much.  It's what makes the world go 'round!  But let's keep it friendly; I'm having a good time at Life's cocktail party and don't want to have to walk out pissed off...or worse yet, get thrown out for pissing someone else off!

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop

Is This As Good As It Gets?

Well this has been, to say the least, quite a Lenten/Easter Season for the Bishop family!  It's been a season of awakenings, questions, doubts, concerns, and fear; most centering on and for my 10 year old son, Leo.  For those of you that don't know us well, my husband Gene and I are devout Catholics, whereas, we have a firm, strong, deep belief in the teachings of Christ and His Catholic Church.  We talk a lot about Jesus with the kids.  We ask "What would Jesus do?" and "Do you think that's something that Jesus would want you to do/say?"  His name is not wielded like a weapon but as a wonderful teaching tool.  What better example of love than He?  Yes, sometimes when you're tired or achy, a Sunday Mass of kneeling and standing, standing and kneeling can be torturous.  Our response to their laments is usually, "One hour.  One hour to give to Jesus after all he gave to us.  It's all He asks for.  Doesn't really compare to dying on a cross, does it?"  Some may think that's a harsh thing to say to an eight or 10 year old, and they are welcome to their opinion, but we, as their parents, think that at a young age, children need to realize exactly what He, His mother, and His father gave up for us.

So our Leo has been reeling for the past two weeks riddled with utter confusion on what happens after we die (very typical, by the way, for his age).  It's been pretty hard around here come evening prime time.  Just as Leo is winding down, his crazy bright mind starts churning and fears of total blankness quickly overtake him and he's literally sick with fear and doubt.

The first time this happened, about two weeks ago, it was pretty scary for me.  He had gotten so upset that he was gagging over the toilet.  Between gasps, he asked randomly, or so I thought, "Are they absolutely SURE we come from monkeys?!"  Homina homina homina....so that's where this is coming from!  So I begin my bumbling explanation using words like "paleontologist" and "similar" and "likeness" and "no proof" and and and...after a few minutes of this I simply asked, "What do we believe?"  He replied, "Adam and Eve were the first people on Earth and that man is from dust and from dust we'll return."  Whew! "Right!" ......"But how do we really know there's a heaven?!"  Ugh.

There's the rub.  We don't know, do we?  At least not as far as science is concerned.  Stephen Hawking will tell you that the concept of heaven is made up by people afraid of the dark.  He feels we are computers and when our "CPU's" stop functioning, we simply turn off. Period. Black. End of consciousness.  Holy hard drive, Batman, that makes me really really sad!!!  Not that I believe his theory, but that he does.  He's basically saying that for overcoming his amazingly debilitating physical issues, for obtaining umpteen degrees and awards for his great mind and spirit, his reward for bearing who knows what in his personal battles, is nothing.  Darkness.  His beautiful mind will simply cease.  Again, it makes me terribly sad for him.  However, he has to be allowed his theory and his opinion just like with any other subject.  But I will say, just as we don't know there's a heaven, he doesn't know there isn't, does he?

But back to my dilemma!  So the next day, after getting him calm enough to fall asleep, Leo awoke completely fine.  "You okay?" "I'm cool." Hmmm....okay!  Three nights later, here we go again! A good two hours of basic 10 year old freak out.  So after talking to friends, I read Heaven is For Real by Todd Burpo.  It's a great book written about an almost four year old boy named Colton and his near death experience in heaven.  I tell Leo and Cathy about it, paraphrasing and reading text from the book.  They're bug-eyed and curious..."can we call Colton?  I'd really like to talk to him."  It went really well!  Leo kissed me good-night, told me he loved me and that he wasn't afraid anymore.  Yeh!!  Wow! All my problems should be this easy to solve, right?!  Yeah, two nights later...

So long story longer, I think it's just a matter of letting him eventually come to terms with it himself.  He's watched a couple of interviews with Colton, he's spoken to our Parish priest, his parents have droned on and on; now it's time for him to  process and deal with it his own way.  If that means spooning with him until he's asleep or reassuring him with our own faith or simply trying to redirect him with "happier thoughts", that's what we'll do.  Hey, the way I look at it, I had a good couple days thinking parenting was a breeze!! I'll bet that's a rarity in itself!

*Just as a side note, I didn't write this piece to start a debate on religion v. science.  Like all my other blog entries, I simply wanted to share my experience and what I got out of it.  However, comments and opinions are ALWAYS welcome, but please remember...be nice! :)  ...oh, and advice is even MORE welcome! 

Love Means Saying "Thank You"

I watched the show Sunday Morning, well, Sunday morning, and Ben Stein closed the episode talking about saying 'thank you' to your parents.  He was visiting with women at a drug treatment facility and they were talking about how wonderful their parents had been to them; how they had never stopped loving them or fighting for them through their whole ordeal.  He asked the women if they'd ever thanked them.  They replied that they had apologized over and over again but don't ever remember saying 'thank you'.  "I don't remember but I must have at least once, right? ....no. No, I don't think I ever did."

It was a V8 moment for me.  I thought about how my last blog entry was about giving thanks and even listed a few things I was thankful for.  I even mentioned my mother but not to say that I was thankful for her, but thankful for her recovery from cancer.  Of course I'm thankful for her!  But when have I ever actually thanked her or my father?

Thanked them for just being my parents.  Thanked them for being happy I was born into an already crowded family of six children and welcoming me home as if I'd been the first.  Thanked my mom for balancing the checkbook to the penny every month while the two of them pinched said penny so we never went without (much)...the checkbook that held the money my dad made trudging off everyday to his job in NYC.  Thanked her for cooking, yes cooking me breakfast every morning of my childhood and for greeting me every day when I arrived home from grammar school.  For the beautiful home my parents made for us.  For taking care of me in sickness and in health, for better and for worse (and there was plenty o' worse!), until my adulthood released them from servitude.  However, it didn't release my then-widowed mom from saving my butt financially on more than one occasion! Thank you for that, by the way!

But it's more than just what they did for us; it's that they did it without hesitation and without including us in any of their worries.  We didn't grow up with a lot of money.  My dad made a nice living but with all those dang kids running around...well, when there was a chance to earn a bit extra working in my grandfather's office or working on income taxes for people, he jumped at the chance.  I always thought he did it just to help them out!  So thank you for allowing me to spend my youth in the bliss of financial ignorance!  I had so many other things to worry about like boys and ...boys and ...boys.

Ben Stein talked about how for decades parents are our servants and we their masters.  It made me chuckle because I'm constantly telling my kids I'm not their servant.  But we are, aren't we?  Yes, I am their mother, their teacher, their taskmaster, their nurse, their housekeeper, their cook, their seamstress, their launderer, their landscaper (well, okay, that's Dad), etc.  But we are also their confidant, their pillow, their rock.

I can assure you I don't do the grunt stuff as willingly as my parents did (or appeared to do).  Don't get me wrong, my parents were NOT Father Knows Best meets Donna Reed and there were plenty of times we thought they were cheap and unfair and downright cruel.  I'm sure there were plenty of times when they thought they were too...along with thinking we were spoiled brats!

See, here's the thing.  I never got to thank my father.  I always thought he'd be around. Period.  As a teenage it never even entered my mind to thank them for their hard work on my behalf.  Now that I've lived a good portion of my life and see the atrocities that call themselves parents, and feel the pinch and euphoria of parenthood firsthand, I regret having missed the chance.  I'm not going to wallow in guilt though; I was young and narcissistic just like many if not most teens out there.  That much hasn't changed....I'm talking today's teens, not my narcissism!

So thank you Mom.  Thank you for being there.  Thank you for loving me unconditionally.  Thank you for saying "no".  Thank you for fighting for me, for praying for me, for being genuinely happy when you answer my phone calls.  I love you.  

~Eileen Cassidy Bishop