Little Tests Of Faith

"And you shall remember all the way which the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments, or not. And he humbled you and let you hunger...that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but that man lives by everything that proceeds out of the mouth of the Lord."

- Deuteronomy 8:2-3

 

Bob can basically float on his back on his own. This is a huge step for him! All he needs to do now to move onto the next class is be able to spin himself over and float on his stomach after floating on his back.

He can do it... he hasn't yet. But I know he can. I can see it in his eyes and in his responses to his teacher. But this small act to us is a big act for him. It's definitely a test of faith for him.

(Disclaimer 1: I don't have a ton of topic related pictures for this post. However, since Mary has inspired this post I've sprinkled some pretty darn cute pictures of her through out. So enjoy!)

I think I can actually remember my first test of faith. It was actually kind of a big deal. While the months following this incident are a bit of a blur- the accident itself still remains pretty clear in my head. It was the summer between my 6th & 7th grade years. I was about to switch schools for the first time and before the school year started my family was headed up to our cabin in Maine. We left around 11pm or 12 AM the night before to get a jump on the 8 hour drive ahead. It was about 6 or 7AM in the morning when a light rain started to fall and we were only a stop away from taking a much needed break from driving. The seat belt was bothering me and preventing me from sleeping so I unclicked it and rolled over in my corner of the car. My parents were up front and my dog was at my feet in the back. My dad was asking me to talk to him to keep him awake as he washed rain water over his face to help him get to the exit. All I wanted to do was sleep. The next thing I remember is the rumble of the warning strip at the side of the road. I called to my dad, but by that point the slick roads had control of the car. We skidded off and flipped two and a half time. I remember landing on all fours and seeing broken glass to the right of me so I crawled out of the car to the left. Everyone but me was fine. (The dog was scared- ran two or three miles down the highway- but still fine). The next thing I remember is sitting by the car and simply saying the Our Father over and over again. My sister stood over me and encouraged me to keep praying and we did this until the ambulance arrived.

I'm not sure exactly how much of a test this really was- but I call it a test because to be honest with you I'm not sure where my reaction came from. I was a pretty miserable kid back then but the first thing I thought to do was pray. So I did.

Later in college as my Fraternity brothers graduated and relationships around me started to change causing me to question my purpose and direction in life I found there was no where else to turn but to God. Despite the dark times that came from those situations and even the loneliness I felt, God never left my side.

I mention these two specific times to kind of set the table here. These are clear moments that I obviously needed God in my life and some might even say it's natural for a person to turn to a higher being or seek out answers in times of distress. But now that life is "pretty good" I still find there are times of small tests of faith all around me.

For instance, this morning I found myself kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament in Adoration praying for my family. I begged God for a good day. I asked for the strength and patience to overcome any weariness that I might have because of the early hour I got up. I asked that I may love on my kids... and well I really BEGGED that they would behave in Mass today. Well... at least Bob did.

(How could anything troublesome ever come a face like that! Right?)

 

 

We had barely sat down in the pew before it started. Not let's be honest... I've probably set myself up for failure here. Not only have I anticipated in my prayer a bad Mass experience (probably subconsciously causing one) but I stubbornly sit all the way in the front in hopes that my children might at the very least be distracted with what's going on up on the Altar.

 

Mary decided early on that she had to sit next to Bob. I normally keep myself in between the two kids. Bob was behaving and playing with some books while Mary squirmed and wiggled around me to get to him. Eventually, in an attempt to shut her up, I let her sit on the other side of me. But of course she proves my fears correct. She immediately starts to kick him, or grab at his books. This only causes Bob to get riled up. So I pick her up again and place her on the other side. The screaming starts again. The squirming starts again. The distress in my head STARTS AGAIN!

 

 

First I tried to wait it out. They always calm down...eventually. Then I thought, okay, just get through the homily and when everyone else stands up we'll run for the back. Nope. Mid homily I need to make a break for it. First Bob doesn't want to move, prolonging the screaming. Then as we are headed out of the church our Deacon stops his homily to proclaim the Good News of Jim. (While all I heard was "Open to Life" because of Mary's screaming- it was pointed out to me afterward by a number of people that the Deacon spoke about what a great example I was for everyone there. That I should be commended for raising my kids in the faith and bringing them to church and that we are to be applauded for being open to life. I'm just glad no one clapped.)

 

(An oldie but a goodie)

 

Deacon graciously pointed out to me afterward that maybe I should have left the church a littler earlier and that he stopped his homily because he had seen some angry faces and wanted to snub it out right there and then. I'm appreciative of that. I'm appreciative of the words of support I received afterward and the words of encouragement to keep on coming back.

 

But to be honest with you... after my prayer this morning and then the experience I had at Mass today. I have to ask myself "What am I doing!?"

 

Is this really worth it? Are my kids learning anything? Am I getting anything out of Mass? Am I just a grump for getting up early to pray?

 

These are my tests of faith.

 

When it's Mary who's smacking Bob across the face with a toy now instead of the other way around. Or when Bob just refuses to behave at any moment of the day.

 

It's these moments I have to decide which direction to go in. The temptation is to drop it all. Run and hide. Nevermind a Spark, I need a bottle of whisky right now!

 

 

 

If I choose the whisky it means ignoring the kids and running off to do my own thing somewhere else in the house. Let's just hope they don't kill each other! This happens enough on good days when I need to get stuff done... the guilt kicks in when I know I could actively be apart of their lives in this specific moment and I'm choosing not to.

 

If I choose the Spark it means sucking it up and putting a smile on my face. Remembering that God is not only faithful but He yearns for me to be faithful too. It means I get down on the floor and play cars with Bob. Or I grab the book from Mary for the millionth time that hour and read it to her again. I choose love because it's that choice that makes the differences in the world and in my family's life.

 

 

And to answer my questions from before... yes it makes a difference. And yes they are learning something. Something I realized today though is that the Mass experience isn't just something for my kids to learn how to behave. But rather or should I say, and also, an opportunity for me to learn how to parent. How can I control my kids better? What is the best way to witness to those around me? Rather than crumbling I need to stand firm with Christ as my foundation and figure out a lesson to be learned in Mary's breakdown.

 

Now I realize that these things are relatively minor. People deal with some serious crap in their lives and my kids screaming at Mass are really peanuts compared to a lot of stuff out there. Now, I studied creative writing while I was at college. I've got a pretty active imagination. (Amanda thinks I'm weird- and if you don't you're about to) but I think of things like: "How would I react if Amanda & the kids died today?" or "What's it going to be like when my parents pass away?"

 

 

But I don't usually leave it at that. My imagination runs wild and I conjure up all the different situations I might go through and feelings I'd face in different situations. When it comes down to it some situations are easier to face than others. I'd like to say that I am a strong man of faith and I'd persevere through these things. I feel like I would though... but feelings are crap.

 

It's these little tests of faith I face each day that I hope is preparing me for whatever else life has in store for me in the future. I really do see death as a good thing for the most part. Tragic in some cases, yes. But there is always a life there that needs celebrating and hopefully in God's Mercy that person is headed off to a much better place than here.

 

So while these tests are small... they're still kind of a big deal. So I remain faithful in the little things. And when I fail I pick myself up and try again. That's the funny thing. Confession, Adoration, Mass... all these things I might find myself asking "Is this worth it!? What am I doing this for!?" are the exact things that are going to get me through the day.

 

 

So yes... it's worth it. And now I'm going to have a Spark. :)

 

Thanks for listening and God bless,

 

Disclaimer #2: Don't worry... I don't actually drink ;)