Category: family

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family love

Knocking on Heaven’s Door

As a child, I was surrounded by older siblings. It was hard to avoid their influence. When my friends were into Elvis Presley, I listened to Peter, Paul & Mary, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan. We sang a lot, as a family. John played the guitar and learned all the songs of the artists mentioned and we’d sit in the living room singing – often. Each night, when we girls cleaned up the kitchen after dinner – we’d sing folk songs in harmony. That’s what I grew up with and I loved it.

    Everyone made attempts at playing the guitar; we all learned the basic chords and played some, but, when Patricia grew up, she learned to play better than any of us – her strumming and finger picking exceeded all of her older siblings and her voice was the most beautiful of all.

    Though Patti and I were close (once she grew up), I have to say the one who had the greatest influence on me was Jean. She didn’t have much to do with me when I was a kid; we were five years apart in age, and six years apart in school (she went into kindergarten at age four), but I always emulated her. I should say, I always envied her – her hair was straight as a board, mine always curly, frizzy and out of control; her clothes were the coolest (I got them handed down when she was no longer interested in them and they were no longer in fashion). She was clever and witty, artistic and THIN! I think most young girls view their older sisters that way. To me Joan was more a motherly type, ‘you cannot go out of the house dressed like that!’ Jean was a freer spirit, she went to college in Cambridge, Mass, hung out in Harvard Square – what could be cooler than that? – nothing, in my mind, so I went to the same school, six years later.

    When I was 18, my nephew Joshua was born. I spent a great deal of time, once school was out for the summer, painting a picture for the wall of his nursery. I can’t exactly remember what I painted, but I know I felt I did a good job with it, I was happy with the way it turned out. We drove down from Maine to Rhode Island for his Christening and afterward John and Ann opened up his gifts. John tore open my gift and said, ‘Now this, I know is from Jean. I love it.’ No one could have given me a greater compliment than that!

    I have since come into my own self, and, though I no longer try to copy her way of looking, dressing and thinking…we still remain so very much alike. And that’s a good thing, for me, because she has grown into such a beautiful, loving and giving soul. I think I should always try to emulate this amazing woman.

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family God love Mother's Day

Knocking on Heaven’s Door

Love                                                                       

May 2017

When my sons were in their teens, the protestations began about attending Mass. I explained to them that this was my job, part of the job of raising them – to build a solid foundation of faith. They rolled their eyes and simply chalked it up with all the other restrictions and limitations I placed on their lives. I speak singularly, as if my husband wasn’t in the picture. He certainly was, but he was the softy; I was the one who held them to the house rules. I never felt I was a strict disciplinarian, but once we decided on a certain plan of action – I didn’t waffle, as someone else might have.

Skip ahead two decades and we have finally reached that point I had always heard about and had only dreamed of – that point in their lives when they see us differently; they actually believe we are wise. Our one son, with three children, now realizes the importance of rules and holding kids to them.  His younger brother – soon to be a father, is observant. Our daughters-in-law often swell our heads, complimenting us on raising wonderful sons. I simply look heavenward, with thankful praise. They are not church goers, these sons of ours, but they were given a foundation of faith, they were taught respect and were respected, and they were immersed in love.

On Mother’s Day, our oldest, invited not only his parents to his house, but his in-laws, his brother and his wife (the expectant parents) and his brother’s mother-in-law. We mothers were honoured but I, and most especially my son’s wife, were very proud. He worked tirelessly to ensure everything was just so, for these many women in his life.

I learned from my own parents that lecturing and preaching to non-practicing children does nothing to increase their desire to return to the Church. In many instances, it alienates grown children from their parents. That does no one any good. Sitting and observing all the busyness of Mother’s Day, what I witnessed everywhere I looked was love. My husband and my son, busy in the kitchen; my younger son and his pregnant wife, cuddled up on the chaise in the living room; the grandchildren playing on the floor with their other grandpa, and we ladies sitting around the dining room table, sipping wine, laughing and sharing stories. Everywhere I looked, I saw love. God’s love. God is love. What more can we ask of life than that?

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family

Knocking on Heaven’s Door

John McDonald – October 14, 1944 – December 20, 2022

December 23, 2022

I have felt compelled to sit down and write these last few days – ever since my brother died. I try to remember the John of my childhood and I draw many blanks. He was eight years older and to a child that’s a huge chasm. We certainly didn’t hang out together; play together or have many meaningful conversations together.

I do remember all of us crowded into the tiny cottage in Maine on rainy, foggy days and John reading the Courier Gazette in a Maine accent. We’d be in stitches, laughing so hard it hurt. Little did any of us know that would become a career for John – entertaining people, telling stories in that Maine accent he perfected.

In high school, when it was time to renew my eye glass prescription, I got round horn-rimmed glasses, at John’s urging. My T.S. Elliott glasses, he called them. I was, at first, embarrassed to wear them at school, but, with all of his positive attention, I finally got past that; feeling so with it, as no one else in my school sported such cool eyewear.

When I was in high school, John was working, but also acting. He got a part in Twelfth Night, a Trinity Square production. We were all terribly impressed – Trinity Square was renowned in Rhode Island; their actors exceptional! Through John, I was able to usher for that production – I got to see it umpteen times, never tiring of it; John’s acting having a profound impression on me. I wanted to do that too, I decided.

I was 17 when John and Ann got married in Maryland – the same weekend as Woodstock. I felt I was missing something terribly important, not that there was a hope in hell I would have been allowed to go. I was 18 when Josh was born. For the occasion of his baptism, I did a painting – a picture for a child’s room. Though I can’t even remember what it was, I was thrilled beyond measure when John opened the wrapped picture and said, ‘Now I know this is from Jean.’  He was surprised and impressed that it was my creation. His praise made me ridiculously happy.

I had completed my first year at Lesley, when, in the summer, John and Ann and Joshua packed up their belongings and moved from Rhode Island to Maine – 1971. They invited me along to spend the summer, to help out with Josh as they settled into a whole new lifestyle in Cherryfield. John opened a gift shop in Milbridge, a slightly larger town a short distance away. The Great North American Gift Company was the modest name he gave the little shop. He ordered gifts from various places, and took in consigned items. The Cherryfield potters elevated the shop to a level of sophistication John had not anticipated. The gift shop was a nice addition to the town and a moderately successful one too.

I loved spending that summer with them. The Cherryfield house needed a lot of work (to put it mildly) – there was no indoor plumbing, at least no bathroom. Our living conditions were pretty primitive, but at the same time – (for me) it was a fun adventure!

That summer cemented a relationship with my brother that never would have otherwise developed. And for that I am eternally grateful. It wasn’t just John I got to know, but his beautiful wife, Ann too. And I truly believe a bond with Josh grew from that time as well. I was 19, but I loved it when, while babysitting him, people thought he was my baby – we shared a lot of giggles and stories and songs. The summer of 1971 was and forever will remain a happy memory for me.

I followed John into acting. I began to write about that time I taught on Matinicus Island, encouraged by John all along the way. I got into storytelling, but not the kind that John did. As children’s librarian, I looked up old nursery stories, memorized them and told them in libraries and classrooms, satisfying that thespian spirit. Never got into radio, but our interests and pursuits, John’s and mine, ran along a similar vein. I always looked to him with admiration.

Now my brother is gone and there’s a hole in my heart – one of many holes that have formed there, through the death of loved ones. It’s not a time to be morbid though, this is right about the time John would tell a funny story.

Love you and miss you, big brother…

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coping Faith family God Humor love Patience

Knocking on Heaven’s door

Lessons Learned

I am my mother’s daughter. My family will sometimes call me T. Way, when I sound or act like my father – worrying about everything. But I am very much like my mother too. She had numerous admirable qualities, making the raising of seven children appear effortless. Unfortunately, those qualities I did not inherit.

If you were sick, in a household of nine, on a busy school morning, you got short shrift. Mother didn’t spend a lot of time fussing over you. In later years, when she got cancer, most of her friends didn’t know. Never knew about the weeks and weeks of radiation treatments. She continued going to meetings and offering to help on various committees. My sister Patti was truly mother’s daughter, working fulltime through her cancer treatments up until the last few months before she died.

These women taught me that sickness is not something to be pitied or rued. So what am I supposed to do with a man cold? Seriously, I grew up in an unsympathetic household in which sickness was no big deal. So, when my sweet, affable husband turns into a different being entirely, how am I supposed to react? It has always mystified me, for we have been here many times before.

All the day long, never stirring from the bed, then thrashing the sheets and blankets off at 3:00 in the morning, turning on lights, coughing and hacking his way to the bathroom, coming back and falling into bed, wheezing with ragged breaths, too exhausted to care or notice that all the lights have been left on. I get up, rearrange the sheets and blankets, and turn out the lights. Is this done in saintly fashion? Heavens no! It’s more than mild annoyance that propels me out of bed to set things straight. Then I lie there at 3:00 in the morning – wide awake and fuming.

What’s the lesson here? I know there’s a lesson to be learned. I know God is smiling, trying so hard not to laugh – at me…at us. My silent annoyance begins to fade and I too smile. One thing God has blessed me with and for which I am eternally grateful, is a healthy sense of humor. It has carried me through 40-plus years of marriage – and marriage, as we all know, can try the patience of a saint. Though, what saints have and what I sorely lack is patience. God tests me on this attribute (or lack thereof) often. It’s a daily struggle for me, though it is often an easier hurdle to overcome at any other time of the day.3:00 in the morning is really pushing it!

But, let’s look on the bright side – 3:00 am is an ideal time to have a chat with God, who will always calm us down and set us back on the right path. (And that path for me, to the relief of many, has never included a career in nursing.)

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Catholic Faith family God Humor

Knocking on Heaven’s Door

Travel Light?                     

A Gospel reading recently told us of Jesus sending out the Twelve, ‘Take nothing for your journey,’ he said, ‘no staff, no bag, nor bread, nor money – not even an extra tunic.’ These words made me cringe.

My husband and I went on a little camping trip in September, hauling our tiny trailer…and so much stuff! We had clothing for every type of weather, hiking boots, running shoes and sandals. We had food for two weeks when we were only gone one. We brought books, journals, meditations and daily readings (ok, those were important and used). At the last minute my husband put his guitar in the back seat of the car…it never came out of the case.

We laughed when we’d see enormous motorhomes lumbering along the road, hauling their SUVs behind. ‘Oh, they’re really roughing it,’ we’d say with a sarcastic laugh – but were we any different? No.

Away from the distractions of home, we talked of future plans, and our desire to sell our house was reignited. Where we had recently been dragging our feet, upon our return home we jumped right in and began the frightening process of preparing our house for sale. Talk about stuff! Anyone who has resided in one place for 30 years knows what I’m talking about.

How and why do we accumulate more than we need; more than we could possibly use in a lifetime? We’ve been donating like mad, so many trips to the second hand stores…so many trips to the dump…and so much still to hide and store!

Our house is now ‘staged’ for sale – not practical, not comfortable, but staged – to give the feeling of beauty and spaciousness. I have to admit I love the uncluttered feel of it.

‘When we move, let’s keep it simple in our new home,’ I tell my husband. He readily agrees…but will we? It’s difficult to change habits of decades, but in our daily lives; in our spiritual practices too, it helps to clean out the cobwebs (figuratively as well as literally) more regularly than we actually do. The trick is to keep the cobwebs from reappearing; keep the clutter out of our houses…our minds and our hearts as well – not staged for show, but transformed with a greater understanding of what’s important to God…and where he is leading us.                                   

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Faith family love Patience Social Action Social Awareness

Knocking on Heaven’s Door

What’s your story?        

For Mother’s Day I was given a gift by my family. Well, to be honest, I begged to be given this gift, acting like a little kid who had to have what her friend had gotten for her birthday. Storyworth is a gift of weekly questions. Each week you receive a question, sent by email and chosen by a member of your family. These questions come weekly for an entire year and at the end of it, your answers are compiled into a book for your family. The questions pertain to your life; some are fun and easy: What fads did you embrace growing up? Some really make you think: What is your favorite memory of your mother? …and some make you want to take serious stock of your life, like last week’s question: What is one of the most selfless things you have done in life?

The fact that your family members are posing the questions makes you feel, at times, as if you’re taking a test. An important grade hangs in the balance. Your answers should impart the wisdom of a life lived; and, most importantly for me – a life lived by faith. These answers pose an opportunity that we are not often given with our children and grandchildren, an opportunity to expound on those issues, beliefs and practices that have helped and guided us through our lives -.no eye-rolling, no talk-back, no walking away – they asked.

Back to last week’s question – though I did send in my response, I’m still pondering that one. I had to search long and hard for answers. Was I more selfish than selfless in my many years on this earth? Have I done enough in a selfless vein? Have I already done my most selfless thing, or is it yet to come? I don’t think we can live our lives believing we’ve accomplished our most selfless act – how do we grow, continue to care for and nurture this needy world if we’ve already been our most selfless?

Thought provoking and self-searching – I was the one who asked for this. Little did I realize where these questions would take me; searching my memory, recalling happy vignettes and not-so-pleasant experiences; much soul searching, coming up short at times, opening my eyes to more flaws than one would care to reveal. It’s a healthy practice, if you share with your family your honest look at the world and your place in it.

This is how I ended my answer to that soul-searching question: Life is made up of tiny, often going unnoticed, acts-of-love that we don’t even think twice about. Those are the best kinds of selfless acts. We should all strive for them every day!

And so we should!

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Bargaining coping Faith family God Humor Listening Patience Prayer

Can We Talk?

When I first learned this year’s hunt would not be taking place up north, but practically in our own backyard – I headed to a quiet place to pray. I tried to erase those thoughts of many years ago; the last time the hunt took place down here; the time when it rained solidly for a week and I would come home to find damp, smelly camo gear spread throughout the downstairs. I tried to blot out those 5:00 o’clock mornings – feet stomping, chairs scraping across the kitchen floor, my husband ‘creeping’ back into the bedroom wielding a flashlight, whispering, ‘Go back to sleep,’ then turning on the overhead light to find what he was looking for. I tried not to think of the peaceful simplicity of that brief respite I enjoyed when the hunt took place up north. Why couldn’t they go up north this year? I pleaded to God in prayer. Your husband is getting older, he said, camping is cold and uncomfortable. Why can’t you be more tolerant?

Wow, that was unexpected. I had come to the Lord for sympathy, clearly he intended this to go a different way. I concluded a change in attitude was in order. My impatience, to which God is constantly drawing my attention, would need to checked at the door each and every morning. 

So, rather than try to sleep in, I got up at 5:00 with the hunters – my husband, son, and one other guy. I joined in the morning banter. I joined them at lunch on Monday, when I was home. I was cheery and encouraging. I swept up the mud they tracked in and cleaned up the kitchen – on Monday.

By Thursday, I confess, I was exhausted and when I came home from work to find a kitchen filled with dirty dishes, I was more than a tad annoyed. While I made dinner, I muttered things to God, hoping this time he’d be on my side. He was non-communicative.  That in itself sent a message. It stopped me in my tracks.

At dinner, in a calm and quiet voice, I asked if they continued to take a two hour lunch break, as they had on Monday. Both my husband and son nodded their heads, unaware. And no one had time to deal with all those dirty dishes? I was not angry, I was simply doing with them what God had done with me – he made me stop and think, I was trying to do the same for them, and they got it.

Communication with God and each other is vitally important in keeping peace. Both cases require us to pay attention and listen – to the words, but also to the silence. And at all times – pray. 

                                                  Margery Frisch

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Catholic community Faith family God Joy Prayer Spiritual Renewal

Come Home

Before I was married, I spent a year on an island, teaching in a one-room school house. The population of the island was about 100 and there was no church of any denomination. The school teacher (me) and my aid lived in the ‘parsonage,’ which was where the minister would come and stay in the summer months.

The island is approximately 35 kilometres from the mainland (Maine) and, in those days, it was a two hour boat ride or a costly plane trip back to the real world. Every Sunday I would hike off to a jagged cliff that stood facing the east; facing Great Britain. The sea was always churned up and I loved God’s beauty and majesty on full display there. That was my church, my prayer time; my time for reflection and meditation. My faith became self-contained on that island. When I returned to ‘the real world,’ I felt I had everything I needed inside of me. It took a long while, but eventually the desire for the Eucharist drew me back to Church; to the Mass. And, when I came back I soon realized in addition to the Eucharist, the community played an essential role in growing my faith.

We’ve been deprived of the Eucharist these many months, we’ve been able to view the Mass but not participate in it.  Now the Church has opened its doors once again and this is Good News, indeed. Many, of course, have legitimate health concerns and the nightly news does nothing to alleviate their worries. They are afraid to go out in public, the coronavirus is still a force in the world; it’s real, and it’s very dangerous for those people. We must respect each individual’s approach to their new normal. But, perhaps some of the rest of us have adjusted to life without Church, without the Eucharist – our faith has become self-contained. I can say from experience, that kind of faith is seriously lacking, and will fail you.

During our time of self-quarantining, we were also denied the ability to visit family. Some of us did the zoom thing (some of us with great difficulty), but, just as with the Masses on YouTube, it was not very satisfying. Have you gathered with your loved ones since the restrictions have relaxed? We got together with our one son and his family as soon as we could. Our youngest son is not ready to widen his circle. He has health concerns that make him anxious about resuming outside activities. We need to respect that. Everyone needs to take the time they need and everyone else needs to understand that…just as in the return to Mass.

For those who are fearful and nervous about coming back to church, I would like to allay your fears. The Diocese has put so many safety measures in place, you’re very safe here. Everyone in the church is a distance away – in front of, behind and to the side of you. Sadly, there’s no singing, but that’s to keep us from the spray of other’s exuberant voices. There is music – beautiful, meditative music at various times during the Mass. The entire experience of gathering together – to pray, to listen to God’s Word, to sit in the same space as the priest giving us his homily, to receive the Eucharist, and to be in God’s presence and meditate – it’s like coming home. So, come on back, we need you here in our midst; you’re part of our circle, our community of faith.                                                                                    Margery Frisch

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Catholic coping Faith family love Patience Prayer Stength

Absence

It’s difficult to follow the distancing rules we’ve been given. I mean, we do it, but it, at times, makes us sad, mad, and, of course, lonely. My son drove from Collingwood to our house so that he, and my 2 ½ year old grandson could wish me a happy birthday. He wanted me to stay inside, just waving to them from the window. I said, No, I’m coming out, but then of course my grandson wanted to run to me to give me a hug. It’s difficult to explain social distancing to a 2 ½ year old, so my son held his squirming child in his arms and told him I was sick. Everyone is sick, in this poor child’s world now.

We get to see our family on Zoom gatherings and, as nice as we initially believe it to be, we want to touch and hug and be with our loved ones. It’s the same with the Mass: It’s wonderful that we are able to experience the Mass through the internet and through television, but we want to be there – we want to touch, feel and receive the Eucharist; we want to sing with fellow parishioners, to greet them and our priests. We look with longing at our beautiful church that we miss so much.

Is this how the apostles felt when Jesus went away? I think their emptiness and longing are feelings to which we can now relate. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, we certainly understand that sentiment in times like these. But we shouldn’t just sit around waiting. When Jesus ascended into heaven, though they stared up into the sky for quite some time, the apostles soon realized they had better get busy; there was work to be done.

We should not waste this time we’ve been given either. Yes, I miss Mass; I miss my daily interactions with parishioners; I miss my family… But I’m keeping busy and staying sane (I think). Attend Mass on the Internet, or on your TV; pray without ceasing! But stay busy in other ways too – if you live alone, it will help with the boredom, if you live with another, it will keep you from clobbering each other. And let’s look after our neighbours as best we can. We may be in the same storm, but we are not all in the same boat, so let’s help one another. And God bless you – until we meet again.

Categories
Catholic family Joy love Social Awareness

The Gift is in the Giving

Last Saturday, when our family gathered to celebrate the American Thanksgiving, I sat down with three of my four grandchildren to look through the Chalice Christmas Gift Catalogue. This is not like the old Sears Christmas Wish Catalogues of the past. Since my grandchildren were very small, I have given gifts to third world countries through Chalice, in their names. Chalice is a wonderful Canadian Catholic Organization through which many in our parish have sponsored children, to help with their education, with food and clothing. Each year they send out a catalogue with everything inside from animals, crop seeds, farm tools, and school supplies, to blankets and mattresses.

When the grandkids were little, it was important to instill in them the notion that not every child had what they had; not every child had enough food to eat, proper clothing to wear; not every family had the means with which to provide these things.

I thought of this on Saturday as the three, aged 11, 10 and 8, had a lively discussion as to what gifts would provide the greatest means of support for a family. In the past, I did most of the talking and they would nod their heads in agreement. This time they looked through the catalogue and gave their own opinions. They all agreed that animals were the best choice – a pair of goats over a donkey, because a pair would give you baby goats to sell, they would give you milk and cheese, providing food for the family, as well as a livelihood. We also looked at other options – helping an orphanage, they loved that idea too, and crop seeds were an inexpensive gift that we could add to the list.

My heart was bursting when we wrapped up our discussions, circled our choices and concluded our session. They truly understood what we were doing, how we were making a difference and I could see in their faces the joy of giving from the heart and giving with love.

The things we do with our little ones – children and grandchildren – makes an impact; it leaves an impression and plants a seed in the heart. I look forward to next year when these three will help their little cousin to make equally good choices. He’s two and wouldn’t sit still this time, but next year we will till the soil and plant the seed.

Love in Action Margery Frisch