children

an advent book club: week one {hoping}

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EverydaySacrament_quote1“…and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”
(Romans 5:5)

This week we’re reading in Everyday Sacrament:

  • “Parenting Toward Possibility”
  • “The Spirit’s Flashes”
  • “To My Children, Called in Childhood”

We hear a lot about hope during Advent. It’s a season full of hope: happy hearts looking toward the gifts and gatherings of Christmas, prayers of plenty and peace singing on the radio.

Especially at the beginning of December, when we’re not yet tired of snow or stressed by shopping, it’s easy to hum along with hope. This will be a great season. This will be the best year yet.

But hope is a hard thing, isn’t it?

Infertility taught me this in spades. We hoped month after month after month that the simple dream we wanted would be ours. But we had to keep waiting much longer than we wanted. And we learned that hope was much harder to hold than we thought.

Hope is a tough stance to take towards the world, to wake up every morning with an openness and expectation that good can come, even when all evidence points towards the contrary.

Now I think hope is something entirely different from what I knew as a child, dreaming that Santa would bring my heart’s desire under the tree on Christmas morning.

Now I think hope is crazy and prophetic and impossible and nourishing. Now I think it is the only way I can live in the world as a Christian, to hope in goodness, even though it’s also the hardest thing to do as I learn more and more about the world’s brokenness and jagged imperfection.

Hope is a humbling and hard and holy gift.

. . .

Let’s chat over wine and chocolate – like any good book club!

  • What do you hope for and from this Advent season?

I hope to find some pockets of peace this Advent. Life was such a whirlwind in November, between the good work (the book coming out!) and the hard work (the child care disappearing!). All I hope from December is to carve out quiet space and time to center myself in God’s peace.

(Ok, and I also hope we find an awesome new nanny and I finish Christmas shopping before December 24th. You know, the little things.)

  • Where have you glimpsed God’s flashes of hope this week?

I’m glimpsing God’s hope in friends who are praying this month will finally bring the gift of conceiving the child they have hoped for years to welcome into their lives.

And I see God’s hope in the ways so many people I know are working hard to create a joyful Christmas for other people who are suffering deeply this year. Generous souls are hope-bearers for me.

  • What are your hopes for the children in your life this Advent?

I hope my kids enjoy the expectation of Advent and our small practices of preparing for Christmas. I hope they learn a little more about the love of the Christ Child. Mostly I hope we can keep this season simple for them.

What about you? Leave your thoughts on hope in the comments below.

. . .

And if you want to read more about hoping…

9 weeks for 9 months: prayers for pregnancy (months 8 & 9)

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“…the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience,
kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”
Galatians 5:22-23

We’re on the cusp of Advent. One of my favorite times of year to reflect on the gifts that pregnancy has brought into my life.

Now that I have been pregnant for three of the past five Decembers (!), Advent has become a sacred season for me to remember the days we found out. Advent also reminds me how my understanding of Mary has changed through the experience of expecting a baby.

Some years Advent feels frenzied. Other years it feels impossible.

But this year, the beginning of Advent offers a perfect pause to share these last two prayers for pregnancy and mediate on the place of gentleness and self-control in the life of faith. Not only when we await the birth of a child, but when we are trying to care for ourselves in the midst of all that life demands of us.

We don’t often hear a good word preached about gentleness or self-control. But Paul reminds us that they are fruits of the Spirit and proof of the presence of the Holy One.

I feel tugged towards both of these gifts this year, when the wider world feels harsh and violent, and my own world feels wildly unbalanced with all that I am juggling.

As we pass from a week of gratitude and thanksgiving into the snowy slide towards Christmas, I find myself leaning into Advent’s invitation more than ever. To set aside anxieties of “how will we get it all done?” and to pick up the peace that what can be done, will be done.

God will take care of the rest.

I pray for you this week, too. That the Spirit’s calm may quiet your heart as we take the first steps towards Advent’s gentle work of preparation.

. . .

prayers for pregnancyMonth 8: A Prayer for Gentleness

God of gentleness,

Help me to be gentle with myself
As I carry this child.
Let me tread lightly on my emotions,
My worries and fears
About birth and motherhood,
Knowing that you prepare me
To do this work.

When the days grow long
And the nights grow restless,
Remind me to care for myself
As I will care for my child:
With gentleness, love,
And compassion.

As my body begins to practice
To birth my baby,
Guide me through each contraction
With the peace of your presence,
Softly opening my heart and mind.

In gentleness I pray,

Amen.

 

Month 9: A Prayer for Self-control

God of self-control,

The final weeks
Of this long journey
Have finally arrived.
Soon the day will dawn
When I will meet my child
And a new world will begin
For both of us.

Help me to prepare myself,
Mind, body, and soul,
For the work of labor
And the wonder of birth.

Teach me to channel and control
The strength of my own self
To offer myself in sacrifice
For the child of my heart.

Let me gather my courage around me –
The power in my bones
And the peace in my heart –
To do the work of love
That a mother is called to do,
The work that you created me to do.

In self-control I pray,

Amen.

© 2014 Laura Kelly Fanucci

Prayers for all 9 months of pregnancy can be found here at the end of this series.
Please consider passing them along to an expectant mother who could use them!

start seeing sacraments: anointing of the sick

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Every week I’ll share a few favorite images around one of the seven Catholic sacraments, to celebrate my new book: Everyday Sacrament: The Messy Grace of Parenting.
Follow me on Instagram at @thismessygrace or tag your photos with #everydaysacrament.
Let’s start seeing sacraments together…

sacraments

. . .

Maybe more so than reconciliation, anointing of the sick is the hardest sacrament to capture in image.

Because it is blessedly removed from my life right now.

Every day I think about the gift of three healthy children. They get runny noses, spike teething fevers, toss and turn the rare restless night with a stomach bug. But thus far their well-check visits to the pediatrician have been routine and uneventful.

So many parents I know do not take this for granted. Babies tangled in IVs in the NICU, toddlers stretched out on the surgeon’s table, kids struggling through school hallways in wheelchairs, teenagers wrapped in heaps of quilts on their deathbed. There is no promise that childhood is free from suffering.

But for me today, the everydayness of this sacrament lies in its absence. At this stage in my life – and this will not last for always, I know – I honor its sacredness only by the smallest reminders.

A stash of Tylenol and bandaids bought to share with our sister parish in Haiti, where parents are pleading for the most basic medications to help their children sick with fever. (Or worse.)

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A coffee-stained Starbucks table that welcomes those with physical handicaps and nudges me to question if my life today does the same.

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A kiss on the oven-burned finger from two big boys who came running when they heard me yelp. Mama, let me make it better. Teaching me how the power of physical touch is a blessing we grasp from our earliest days.

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. . .

Anointing of the sick is not last rites. It’s a common misunderstanding in popular culture, lingering in Catholic circles, too. But this blessing with sacred chrism oil and prayer is not reserved for our last gasps of breath.

It’s a gift of God’s healing grace to be shared whenever we are suffering deeply – in body, mind, or spirit.

When I first started writing the chapter on anointing of the sick in Everyday Sacrament, I stalled over the fact that I’d never received this sacrament myself. If I’d only seen it celebrated from a safe and healthy distance, what could I possibly have to say about its power?

But then I realized that there are echoes of anointing’s graces in the everyday ways we help each other to heal. Every parent who has comforted a screaming child, bandaged a bleeding wound, or rushed a sick baby to the emergency room understands some traces of this sacrament.

Perhaps we practice these “first rites” at home because deep down we know that some day our children will be wounded beyond our power to heal. And we want them to remember what it first meant to be held and comforted in love. 

Today I celebrate my children’s health. And I pray that they will always know how God’s grace waits to anoint their aches and soothe their scars, even when health is no longer the safe measure of their days.

When have you seen the anointing of the sick celebrated?
What have you learned about healing at home?

the hard and the holy

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Three times I have held this moment.

A baby in my arms, round-cheeked and solemn-eyed, stretching out his chubby hand towards an ice-cold window, swirls of first snow gusting just beyond the glass.

Three times I have watched.

Pudgy fingers smudging up against the pane, leaving a breath of fogged fingerprints behind. Brow furrowing, steady eyes silently wondering what is this? Cold and hard are not the usual domain of babies, the newest ones whose softest skin we wrap in fleece blankets and cuddle with feathery kisses.

Three times I have felt this sacred hush.

What it means to introduce a child to the world outside, a world which can be hard and cold and harsh and cruel. A fleeting foretaste while still safe in mother’s arms of what it will mean for them to brave the beyond.

Three times I have welcomed this same invitation.

To remember that what is hard can also be holy.

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The book is here. The hard part should be over. The dreaming and the writing and the editing and the re-editing and the waiting are behind me. This new baby is in my hands, and it is rushing headlong into the world, too. Now all should be calm; all should be bright.

Except this is never the way it works, is it? In writing, in parenting, in life.

Right when I thought I had hit that sweet spot – of work and family and home all humming along so much better than I dared dream when I pictured life with three kids – right then was the instant something started to unravel.

The child care set-up that was steady and smooth? Now yanked out from under us. We’re scrambling to re-calibrate, and everything is up in the whirling air.

How to juggle all these callings. How to handle all the good work we’ve been given to do. How to be the partners and the parents we’ve promised to be.

All will be well, Julian of Norwich reminds me, in that nagging, knowing truth of the long view. And I believe this. But in the short term? All ain’t great.

It’s far from the end of the world, but it’s the complicating of our small world as it spins today. Stress sneaks back in; what’s nicely knit unravels; we run on fumes and we run down. I know we will be fine; we’ve been here before and we’ve come through. But still.

This is still hard.

And this is still holy.

image

The lesson each baby teaches me, dimpled knuckles banging at snow-streaked window, is that life is always juxtaposed in tensions: soft meets hard, warm meets cold, safe meets scary.

These edges press up against each other all the time, but we lull ourselves into thinking we are confidently on the safe side of calm and control. Instead there is hard, and God is here, too.

So there is holy.

I cannot – will not – say that all that is difficult is divine. There is evil, injustice, abuse, and deceit that cannot be baptized by any best perspective.

But among the few stones of hard truth I have collected about God in the few decades I have been seeking, I know this: God is present.

When it seems it cannot be so, when we ourselves cannot see it, when the whole maddening crowd screams otherwise. God is present.

So whenever there is that too-familiar twisting crunch – of time, of nerves, of expectation, of budget, of hope, of health, of heart – I try to breathe some peace into the space between. To remember how the hard and the holy meet.

To turn over and over in my mind this silent memory of first snow: of each quiet, curious baby perched in my arms, peering out into a world of white, a stark new landscape that covers in strange drifts what was once known.

To see what their fresh eyes see, to feel what their smooth fingers feel, and to trust what their calm wonder trusts. That they are still held.

That we are, too.

start seeing sacraments: reconciliation

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Every week I’ll share a few favorite images around one of the seven Catholic sacraments, to celebrate my new book Everyday Sacrament: The Messy Grace of Parenting. Follow me on Instagram at @thismessygrace or tag your photos with #everydaysacrament.
Let’s start seeing sacraments together…

sacraments

Here’s the truth about reconciliation. It’s hard to photograph.

(It’s even harder to practice.)

Trying to capture everyday glimpses of sacraments has been a good exercise. Also a challenging one.

Because baptism and Eucharist? I see them daily in bathtime and mealtime. And I can snap a quick shot in a second – my kids splashing in water or sharing bread at our table. I smile and savor a sweet pause of a moment, a reminder of God’s humming presence at work around us all the time.

But reconciliation? That’s the ugly underbelly of family life. Tempers lost, toys thrown, loud protests and louder cries. The angry moments you cringe to imagine a stranger (or even friend) might dare to darken your doorstep and see how things really are in this house when we sin against the ones we love the most.

How could I capture that on camera?

Tender moments of offering repentance and seeking forgiveness are often too intimate and sacred to share. When we are honest and true, sorry and sorrowful, we are also most vulnerable. Which is, I think, why God invites us to practice this sacrament in quiet humility, one-on-one.

But the few images that I found were scenes I stumbled upon. And isn’t that always how God works, in the stumbled-upon moments? Tripping over truth right beneath our feet.

One afternoon I was playing with the camera, charming smiles from the sweet baby cooing on a soft blanket while his brothers squabbled on the porch behind us. Then I realized the arguing in the background had finally simmered down. Now the boys were building something strong and sturdy together.

Here they were – two brothers at each other’s throats all afternoon until they realized they’d never get their project finished unless they worked together.

And I almost missed it because I was focused on what I thought was beautiful.

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Weeks later we were enjoying a lovely, lazy morning on vacation. Breakfast outside, warm sky overhead, nowhere to go and nothing to do but bask in the sun and each other’s company. I went inside to grab my camera and snap some shot of billowing clouds behind Floridian palm trees. Idyllic inspiration.

When I came back out to the cool concrete deck, there was a sobbing son in his father’s arms. Some minor infraction had reduced him to tears; they had to talk it out quietly and calmly. What it means to disobey and apologize and forgive. (I am still learning this; aren’t we all?)

I forgot about the sun and sky; I had to sneak one small memory of what this moment might look like in image, forgiveness in a frame. What it probably looks like every time I, too, bend my wrestling, wanting, wandering will back towards the One who welcomes its failings with comfort and love.

image

. . .

In the Catholic tradition, this sacrament has more names than any other.

Confession. Penance. Reconciliation.

Maybe we need all these hues of the same truth because there are so many movements wrapped round repentance. We speak our sins; we ask forgiveness; we promise to do better. Turn, turn, turn.

Or maybe we need mouthfuls of names to remind us how often we need to practice this lesson of love before our God. Over and over, again and again. Here at home, out in the world.

Everyday reconciliation. Where do you see it?

where i’ve been lately…(and the book is here!!)

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Here’s where I’ve been lately. Scurrying around behind the scenes to get ready for this:

Everyday Sacrament

BECAUSE THE BOOK IS HERE!

Surreal is all I can say. I thought the moment I held this baby in my hands would be emotional and powerful and symbolic.

But the package arrived on Halloween afternoon, and thirty seconds after I opened it in tender awe, the baby started howling to be nursed, the boys started screaming at each other over fistfuls of Halloween candy, and the pot of pasta I’d left on the stove started that seething simmer-over – suffice it to say, I did not have a single moment to savor.

Yet I’ve come to love that this book on my desk is doing exactly what I hope it will do in other families’ homes: sit right in the middle of the craziness and chaos and remind us that God is here, too.

I’m planning a “blog book tour” for early December with lots of lovely blogging friends who are helping me to get out the word. Till then you can buy the paperback or e-book from Liturgical Press (it’s already out of stock temporarily on Amazon - thank you, friends!). I am humbled and overwhelmed and deeply grateful for all your love and support.

. . .

And even while I’ve been keeping the blog stocked with series of pregnancy prayers and Instagram shots of sacraments, I’ve actually been doing real writing elsewhere, too.

First, if you haven’t yet heard of Blessed Is She, now is the time to check it out. A bunch of brilliant, inspired bloggers I know have gathered together to create a daily devotional site for Catholic women. It’s beautiful and thoughtful, and it fills my inbox with Word and image every morning.

Here’s an example of a devotional I wrote last week - on the household of God (and why my husband and I often flounder at running our own):

When I got married, the challenges of running a household only magnified. Yes, I had a partner to help with this work, but we also brought different approaches and expectations for household management.

Enter kids into the picture? More laundry, more dishes, more questions about how to pay for it all. I wouldn’t trade this life for any other, but these are still the verbs I use: stretch, crunch, juggle, squeeze.

The household of God? Those words stop me in my tracks. As Saint Paul describes it, the household of God is about people, not perfection. About holiness, not achievement. About community, not isolation.

It’s not about having it all together, but about becoming holy together. Whether we’re single or married, parents or children, friends or neighbors, we are part of a household bigger than ourselves and our to-do lists….

Read the rest at Blessed Is She.

Speaking of our household, we seem to have hit the November slump when all of September’s bright intentions have fallen by the wayside in heaps of leaves. Sound familiar?

Last week I reflected on how setting aside our high hopes for doing All The Things to raise our children in faith might actually be the healthiest and happiest way to live our faith at home. Check out my latest post at Practicing Families on the importance of small habits and tracing tiny crosses:

So often I confuse our practice of faith with excellence in faith. If this family is going to follow Christ, then we’re going to do daily prayer and weekly catechesis and church attendance and Scripture study. We need to do it all and we need to do it right, or else everything fails.

But maybe it’s not about getting all the big things right. Maybe it’s about getting all the small things right.

As a parent, all I can hope to do is trace tiny crosses on my children’s foreheads. Sweep aside their messy hair, wipe off the sweaty smudges, and bless their brows with the smallest sign of the One who calls and claims them for love.

Read the rest at Practicing Families.

And since I have sacraments on the brain these days, my latest at Catholic Mom asks how we can talk about the meaning of sacraments in our lives with those closest with us. Check out these simple ideas for starting conversations about sacraments with your spouse, children, friends or relatives:

Sacraments are central to our Catholic faith. We believe that we encounter God in a powerful way through the experiences of baptism, Eucharist, confirmation, reconciliation, anointing of the sick, marriage, and holy orders. And we believe that Christ instituted these seven sacraments in order to share grace with us in powerful and particular ways.

But how often do we talk with our children, spouses, friends, or relatives about the impact of the sacraments in our lives?

This week, take a moment to share a story of sacrament with someone close to you. Invite them to share their own stories or to ask questions of curiosity, especially if they’re not Catholic.

See what happens when we start talking about God’s presence in our lives through the sacraments…

Read the rest at Catholic Mom.

9 weeks for 9 months: prayers for pregnancy (month 4)

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“…the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience,
kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”
Galatians 5:22-23

Patience. 

Perhaps it’s the cardinal virtue of parenting. The holy grail we long to hold, grasping just out of reach, a shimmering mirage on the road before us.

Ironically it’s the way we have to start the parenting journey, too. Whether we birth or adopt or foster, we must wait for a child to arrive. Patiently some days, impatiently others.

Nine long months of wondering, watching, witnessing, and waiting. No swift storks swooping in to deliver these babies to our doorsteps.

The 4-month mark has been where my own pregnancies start to itch with impatience.

Still so sick, and even sicker of everyone asking, wide-eyed, why I’m not feeling better. Counting the weeks and groaning inwardly (ok, outwardly, too) at how many months remain. Starting to show and still so far to go.

So when I started writing these prayers for pregnancy, inspired by the nine fruits of the Spirit?

I secretly loved that month 4 landed on patience. Proof of the wit and irony of that good old Spirit.

Today’s prayer is for patience, wherever you find yourself.

May it be a deep breath reminder to slow down and settle into this present moment – all that it holds and all that God hopes and all that you carry within you.

. . .

month 4Month 4: A Prayer for Patience

God of patience,

Now that the first trimester is past,
And our news has been shared
Far and wide,
Help me to keep waiting patiently,
Enjoying this time.

When I wish away days
Of sickness or sleeplessness,
Of worry or discomfort,
Guide my thoughts lovingly
Back to the baby within me,
Whose life is a masterpiece
That takes patient time to create.

Let me mark each passing week
With gratitude and wonder,
Awaiting all the joy and good work
That will come in due time.

Open my eyes to see
How you are making me a mother:
In your time,
In your way,
In your name.

Bless the child within me,
And all who welcome with eagerness
The arrival of this new and sacred life.
Surround us with your peace
As we grow in love together.

In patience I pray,

Amen.

© 2014 Laura Kelly Fanucci

Prayers for all 9 months of pregnancy can be found here at the end of this series.
Please consider passing them along to an expectant mother who could use them!

start seeing sacraments: confirmation

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Every week until my book comes out, I’ll share a few favorite images around each sacrament. Follow me on Instagram at @thismessygrace or tag your photos with #everydaysacrament. Let’s start seeing sacraments together…

sacraments

Confirmation is one of three sacraments of initiation into the Catholic Church (along with baptism and Eucharist). Sacred anointing with holy chrism oil. Laying on of hands by the bishop. Sealing of the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

Most Catholics receive the sacrament of confirmation as young people. (Too often it becomes a graduation from faith formation.) Others receive it as adults in the RCIA process. Either way we only “get it” once.

But do we ever get it?

This Spirit stuff is slippery. Scripture tells us of the Spirit’s gifts: wonder and wisdom, reverence and right judgment, knowledge and courage and understanding. But how do we live out these gifts? How does this sacrament shape our lives as Christians?

How do we see and taste and hear and feel confirmation every day?

. . .

I see confirmation in the way my children start to chase after their gifts.

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I taste confirmation in the day’s unexpected glimmers of grace.

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I hear confirmation in my callings, trying to listen to the Spirit for guidance in this holy work of parenting.

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I see confirmation in the ways I try to lift my gaze heaven-ward.

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I feel confirmation in the softest flutters of encouragement to share gifts.

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Where do you sense confirmation around you? What does this sacrament mean for your life?

9 weeks for 9 months: prayers for pregnancy (month 3)

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A prayer for peace. Don’t we always need it?

Peace is rare in these parts. As an introverted mama who craves calm and quiet to settle her soul and center her mind, I start to spin some days when the boys don’t stop talking/whining/crying/shouting. I know in my bones that this busy, bustling life is so good and the very gift I wanted, but it is still so frenzied at times that I can barely hear myself think.

And peace in pregnancy? It’s a nearly laughable prospect. My last journey down those nine months brought not only the severe morning sickness I’ve come to know (and loathe) as part of pregnancy, but also all the fear and anxiety of carrying a child after miscarriage.

When I think about what to expect when you’re expecting, peace would be last on my list. 

I try to remember that the God of Peace is always present with us, always calling us back, always inviting us to slow down into silence with a deep breath and a moment’s pause. But peace is still fleeting in this season of life, dancing before my eyes like a startling butterfly, dashing off again as soon as I stop to take notice.

Christ called us to be makers of peace. I think about this often, that peace is something we’re invited to help create, not just passively receive.

How do I make peace? How do I carve out corners for peace to settle in our home? How do I widen the margins of my life with enough space for a deep and lasting peace to guide our hearts?

Today I offer you a prayer for peace. Each new morning our world needs it more and more, millions upon millions of desperate hearts crying out for comfort and calm.

Maybe when we start to nurture peace in smallest ways, even from our earliest days, we can begin to align our lives with the peace that is God’s Very Self.

Wherever the dark chaos of your life calls out for blessing today, I pray peace for you, too.

“…the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience,
kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”
Galatians 5:22-23

Prayers for Pregnancy - Month 3Month 3: A Prayer for Peace

God of peace,
As my appearance
And appetite and energy
All begin to change,
Let me seek the peace I crave
In your unchanging love.

Help me to remember
That you are constant
When all around me is shifting.

Calm my anxieties
With the comfort of your presence.
Quiet the storm of my fears
With your calm.

Whisper still, small words of trust
And cradle my baby
In the warmth of your love.

Help me to celebrate
The life growing within me,
The child taking shape
In the dark chaos of creation.
Keep your horizon of hope
Ever before my eyes.

In peace I pray,

Amen.

© 2014 Laura Kelly Fanucci

Prayers for all 9 months of pregnancy can be found here at the end of this series.
Please consider passing them along to an expectant mother who could use them!

9 weeks for 9 months: prayers for pregnancy (month 2)

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We’ve been laughing, he and I. Over crock pots steaming with chili and harvest vegetables heaped upon the counter in earthy piles, over the din of Notre Dame football roaring up from the basement below, over the chorus of three small boys tugging for attention and talking all at once in the kitchen.

We’ve been laughing about last fall, tossing jokes about the morning sickness long past, about the garden bounty that rotted in bowls as I slept hard on the couch, about the autumn traditions we didn’t cook or visit or make because mama was growing the baby and in my world that is mighty work.

I marvel at this now – laughing while I close my eyes at oven’s blasting heat as I slide out another pan of sweet potatoes, rolling my eyes at his comebacks while I peel pyramids of knobbly carrots, grinning at the boys who steal fistfuls of green beans even as I turn to dump them in the roiling boil.

I marvel at how we are laughing. How far those hard days seem, and not just those aching, exhausting weeks of trying to keep down water and crackers. But the harder days before that.

The days of losing the baby and floundering for hope and curling inward because the world couldn’t see the pain. Because weren’t we young and healthy and at least we have two babies already and couldn’t we always try again? Because it wasn’t really a baby, was it? Only a handful of weeks along, only the tiniest curve of a body that could slip away so easily.

Only a whisper of a life.

Why should it still echo now, with our plumpy love of a round boy now gnawing at his dimpled fists in the swing and laughing gummy smiles at his brothers’ monkey faces and blinking bright owl eyes in the slanted morning light beside my bed each morning?

I know why now, and these heaps of garden harvest in my dirty hands remind me. Because what grows in darkness is life, even when we cannot see it. And what lies beneath is hope, even if it is a tiny seed. And what bursts forth is holy, even if it is a tender shoot.

I will miss that baby always. The thought will catch in my throat each time, the wonder of what could have been. And the way a body feels differently once it has carried both life and death within it.

I have known deepest joy and deepest pain from these children of mine – all four lives that have sparked into being, that head-scratching mystery, that sacred design that the Weaver knits together in the holy dark. I hold all this wrapped round my heart.

And as I wonder what to say today about a prayer for the beginning, for the first weeks of knowing and loving and hoping and praying, I think it is the same truth that fall teaches me each year.

These rich cold weeks bursting with deep color and deeper change, when we carry the outside inside, when we harvest one season’s hopes for another’s savoring, when we let go of what will not be and learn to welcome what will come.

The truth that we are nurturing life, all of us.

We are tending to its tender beginning. We are carrying its plumping growth. We are sharing its holy fruits with those we love.

. . .

Today it is a prayer for month two of pregnancy. A fragile four weeks: the thrill of discovering and announcing, the fear of worrying and wondering, the unknown of what lies ahead.

But a sacred four weeks, too. The beginning of a life that we will carry close to our own for the rest of our days, no matter what may come. The opening chapter of a book that is written by the Author of Love and the Word Itself.

Today it is a prayer, too, for the gifts we receive and the gratitude we live and the worries we can cast back, over and over in heaps and piles, onto the loving hands of the One who carries all of us.

Today it is a prayer for someone who may need it.

Today it is my gift to you.

“…the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness,
generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22)

. . .

Prayers for Pregnancy - Month 2Month 2: A Prayer for Joy

God of joy,
Our hearts sing to you
In our moment of discovery!
We saw proof with our eyes
That new life has begun,
And we saw that it was good.

As a heart begins to beat
And a mind begins to grow,
May my own heart and mind
Rejoice in the wonder of this gift.

Even if sickness turns my stomach
Or tiredness takes over,
Let a deeper joy
Run through my days,
Fast and strong and true.

And if, as weeks pass,
Worries start to circle round,
Threatening to steal my joy,
Let your perfect love
Cast out my fear.

Help me believe
That you hold us both,
My child and I,
In the palm of your warm
And safe and loving hand.

In joy I pray,

Amen.

© 2014 Laura Kelly Fanucci

All the prayers for pregnancy will be found here at the end of this 9 week series. Please pass them on…