The pillars holding up a daily life of faith

Jun 26, 2015

By Kelly Bothum
St Therese of Lisieux has her home on the dresser in my bedroom. Some days, I feel bad for all my missteps she witnesses — the myriad times I turn off my alarm and slink back under the covers, my frustration over my children’s missing uniform pants, the raised voices signalling that, yet again, we are running close to being late.

But if there’s a saint who can handle the daily drama, it’s her. She’s one of the women who daily keeps my faith strong ... or at least keeps me moving.

She’s my daily reminder that we can show our love in little ways: the extra kid snuggles on a rough morning, the hand-drawn family portrait, the whispers of “I love you” on the way out the door.

I need those little things to bolster me on the days when it seems as if the big things are going to take me down. I need St Therese, and so many other women, whose example of faith, past and present, guide me on this path of modern Catholic life.

The secular knock on Catholicism is that women are given second-tier status in the Church. But if you focus only on the absence of women from the priesthood, you’re missing the women who have done important work that’s woven into the vibrant fabric of our faith.

They are the ones who remind me that when Jesus rose from the dead, women were the first to glimpse him. They remind me that it was another woman, Mary, who washed his feet and showed the kind of humility Jesus wants us all to emulate. They remind me that while I may have not taken vows of chastity or poverty, I, too, can find ways to serve those around me.

I may not be a saint, but following the examples of being a loving, forgiving and patient mother who instills generosity, service and gratitude in her children is something I can aspire to.

In a world obsessed with everything fleeting and superficial, I need reminders that we are here to inspire and to achieve greatness — for God. I need St Catherine of Siena and her motivational poster talk — “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire” — to help me find the right words to tell my kids when fitting in seems better than standing out.

And, hey, let’s be honest: I need Dorothy Day to let me know that we can veer off the path to forge our own deeply personal connection with God and others. Life isn’t colour-by-numbers, even in matters of faith. I’m grateful for strong female models of faith to show me that.

I know I am not reinventing the wheel with this whole parenting and wife thing, but some days, it can feel as if no one understands. It’s what makes a pity party and a jar of Nutella seem like a mighty fine coping mechanism.

But then, I look down at my key ring and see the finger rosary, the one my mom stuck there. I think of Mary, who earned her own vat of Nutella and a giant spoon for her experiences as a mother. Jesus may have been divine, but he was still once a little boy.

Mary makes me feel like no matter how badly I think I’ve messed it up, it’s still going to work out.

There’s a peace in talking to her, in knowing that she chose her faith, despite the unknown, when others would have undoubtedly taken the easier route. She quiets my soul and calms my breathing. She brings me back to the present and reminds me that the uniform pants are in the dryer.

So I go and grab them, still warm, and hand them off to a little boy sniffling over his morning ritual. Little things with great love. Right, St Therese?