I am not a cradle Catholic. I converted after I met my husband. No, I didn’t do it for him. I did it for me, and the seeds that grew into the life in faith I live today were planted long before I met him. He was an enabler, yes. I had thought you might need a hall pass of sorts to enter into the church and sit down in a pew. I didn’t know anything about receiving communion, nor about reciting the prayers. But I learned and my life evolved into one that includes religion in a way I believe is unique to those who have chosen their faith.

Perhaps it is a profound consciousness that sets apart adult converts. Perhaps it is a sense of empowerment and a need to actively live the religious values you’ve chosen so purposefully. Now that I have children, I’ve vowed to share with them a living faith. To me being Catholic isn’t just about my paper that says that I’ve been baptised and confirmed. It isn’t about attending Mass each Sunday. It isn’t about going to confession or observing Holy Days. It is about seeking God around every corner, with every step, and in each breath I take. God is described on paper by so many who attempt well to illustrate who He is. But I believe the most wonderful and exciting way to understand who He is to live each day seeking his love and guidance.

All of our children have been baptized into the Catholic Church. Pie Pie was baptized the other Sunday by the priest at our parish. This was the second baptism service in English I’ve attended. My own was the first. Mini Mister and Little Miss were both baptized at a Korean Church where the rite was performed in Korean and I didn’t understand a thing. It was wonderful to understand what the priest had to say.

Little Pie Pie didn’t cry when the water poured over his head and he put back his little head and closed his eyes as the priest dried his hair. “He’ll be a quiet Catholic,” the priest noted to us. We were blessed by the priest with Pie Pie in our arms, and the community gathered ’round asked that God lend us the strength and courage to help Pie Pie grow in faith.

Mini Mister and Little Miss were there in the front pew, viewing it all. They tend to ask good questions about what goes on during the Mass and about the Liturgical calendar. What is in your mouth? (The host, or communion wine.) What is in the gold box? (The blessed host is kept in the tabernacle.) Is it my turn to put the envelope into the offertory collection basket?  So to prepare them for Pie Pie’s baptism, I showed them this demonstration video. We didn’t have the time to act it out ourselves. Even so, the kids were pretty intrigued and I thought it a novel depiction of what baptism means in this world.

Two days before the baptism I realized that poor little Pie Pie didn’t have a white outfit to wear. My husband went to the store and got a cute little embroidered onesie with a cross on the front. But he didn’t come home with any pants. Who makes white pants for a baby? No one. They’d get dirty of course. So, I searched my fabric stash and found a bit of white linen to stitch together into this pair of pants he wore. I can’t think of anything more appropriate for the occasion than a bit of handmade love. It was most certainly God working through my hands. How else would these have been ready in time?

Many times I feel in this world of on-line computer games, Wii’s, Nintendo DS’s, DVDs, TiVos, and DVRs life is quickly becoming on-demand. Our children find a commercial funny, like someone bonks their head for example, and we hear them exclaim, “play it again!” Really? Play commercials again? Now dinner menus, music selections, and playdates with our friends are slipping into the on-demand realm. Though, I am trying strongly to dissuade this perception because it is wise, if not a necessity, to realize that some parts of life cannot possibly be on-demand, like letting your hair grow out. (And now that I type that, I realize that hair extensions are kind of on-demand. Geesh.)

Everyday I feel a strong pull to create. It is something alikened to the earth’s gravitation that pulls my fingers and mind toward baking projects, sewing seams, colorful paints, and soft yarns. I feel centered when I am creating something new and the pace of the world seems to slow just a bit. And with process, technique, and imagination, I can control the on-demand. It becomes, when I demand the project is done. I feel heightened when I’ve accomplished something. I feel productive and strong when I step back and look at the new thing I’ve made. And the challenge, the constant learning, and the problem solving is what keeps my mind and feet moving through the days.

I am hoping to impart a bit of these sensations in my children. To slow a bit. To take a breather. To use one’s brain. And to be creative. Creating can be its own reward. My heart feels full when Mini Mister, or Little Miss come around the corner saying, “look Mama at what I’ve made!”  Sometimes it is messy creation that makes me sigh and reach for a dish towel. Sometimes it is a surprising creation that makes me wonder how safe it is to leave it intact. And sometimes it is a silly creation that makes me laugh and congratulate them on a job well done. In the back of my mind, I know that these little beings are capable of way more than a life of “on-demand.”

Please note: the picture below is Little Miss’ piggy.