Cottage Blessings

The beginning and the beginning

Every year for the past five years or so, we have spent New Year's Eve at my home parish in Queens, New York. It is the only place I know of that has Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament and Benediction at midnight to close the old year and ring in the new. Every year, at the stroke of midnight, the pastor (an excellent, hardworking priest who really got us through the pandemic) blesses the people with the monstrance containing the body of Our Lord.

Here we are on New Year's Eve 2019 into 2020:

Here we are on New Year's Eve 2020 into 2021. Same bell tower (different vantage point), same coat (on me), same boots (on me), but there is something wonderfully different. Seven of our nine children are with us instead of only three. The one good thing about 2020 was unexpected family togetherness. With so many of their usual New Year's plans canceled, we had a lot more of our children available to begin the year the best way possible--in church on our knees before our Blessed Lord.

2021 is going to be a great year for the Gunthers!

St. Lucy's Day

St. Lucy's Day began with baking before dawn.

We made Swedish almond cakes for ourselves and for our friends. 

In the evening we had a candlelit procession, going from room to room and up and down the stairs singing O Come, O Come Emmanuel and remembering the long years the people in darkness waited for the One who would bring light to the world.

St. Lucy's Day is the day we officially light our Christmas lights. The children (and their darling friends) went from room to room lighting first the Christmas tree, then the other indoor Christmas lights and wreaths and finally the lights outside. 

We celebrated afterward with hot chocolate and pastries.

There are few things more cozy than a candlelit tea by the light of the Advent wreath.

Candlelight, cakes and girls in white dresses--Happy St. Lucy's Day, everyone!

Last year's resolution

Toward the end of 2015, two things happened that changed the course of 2016. The first was that our whole family made a Marian Consecration on December 8th, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. It was the conclusion of a parish wide preparation led by our pastor, Father McCartney. When we made the consecration, I wasn't sure what it would mean, but I knew something would change. The second was that we concluded the year with Midnight Benediction at my childhood parish, St. Mary's. I wrote about this recently, but did not mention that we first discovered this beautiful, holy event on New Year's Eve 2015-16. We left church that night with the feeling that makes you want to say, "Lord, it is good that we are here."

Soon afterward, we were at an Epiphany party. There were about five families there, all with children, and we played a game of "resolutions." Each person wrote down a New Year's resolution on a piece of paper, folded it up, and placed it in a hat. The resolutions were read aloud, and the object was to match the person to the plan. I do not usually give much thought to resolutions, perhaps because I never seem to persevere in anything longer than six weeks. Looking down at that blank slip, I realized that between the January 1st holy day of obligation, first Saturday, and a Sunday, we were three days into the new year, and we had been to Mass every day.

I wrote: "My New Year's resolution is to attend Mass every day in 2016."

Now we've always tried to go to Mass fairly often, sometimes very often, but if anything would come up--a morning lesson or appointment, a change of plans, a few raindrops--Mass during the week was the first thing to go. Suddenly, in 2016, I found myself carefully planning. The 9 o'clock Mass was our usual, but within a five mile radius of our house, we found parishes with daily Masses at 7, 8, 12 noon, and even 5:30 in the evening. Truthfully, here where we live, Mass is almost as readily available during the week as it is on a Sunday.

Days and weeks passed, and I kept wondering if we would have some obstacle to getting to Mass, but this only happened once--a late January blizzard kept us absolutely and completely snowed in for a whole day from morning until night. A few months later, getting to Mass required a minor miracle. We were vacationing on Martha's Vineyard (imagine me saying that in a Woodside accent, and it won't sound so snooty), but it was a week before the Summer season began. The three parishes on the Vineyard combine in the off season, and there is no Mass on the island at all on Fridays. I looked into taking a ferry to the mainland for one day, but the ferry and Mass times did not at all coincide. I prayed, "Dear Lord, would you please let there be a Mass here on Friday?" After Mass on Thursday, the priest was greeting people. I shook his hand and said, "Father, there is no Mass here tomorrow, is there?" He said, "Normally there isn't, but we are having a special memorial Mass tomorrow at 9 am."

God is good.

Most days, the children came with me--one of my younger daughters came every single day, even to those early 7 o'clock Masses. My husband joined us now and then on days when he didn't need to be at work too early. Toward the end of 2016, I almost couldn't believe the year was drawing to a close, and we had had the blessing of Mass every single day. (Remember that blizzard? God must have felt sorry for us, because He generously provided a February 29th leap day to make up for it.) I started to wonder what had this year of grace meant--what was God preparing us for? It had begun with a Marian consecration and benediction, and it had been a beautiful year for us. Yes, it had the trials and troubles of any normal year, but it was hallowed and felt like the start of something. It felt like a Year of Mercy.

Yesterday, I spoke briefly with our pastor after Mass. He mentioned 2017 as the 100th Anniversary of Fatima and the importance of this great event. In 1917, the Blessed Mother appeared in Fatima, Portugal, to three shepherd children the same age as my youngest three and gave a message of peace and hope to the world. Yet, there is another important part to the story that is sometimes forgotten. The children were first visited in 1916 by the Angel of Peace who prepared them for the appearance of Our Lady by teaching them prayers and even giving them Holy Communion. 

I look back on 2016 as a gift sent one hundred years after the visit of the Angel of Peace--a time of prayer and preparation and grace. How happy and hopeful and eager we are as we await this great centenary of Fatima.

 

Planning Ahead

This is my September 2015 column for The Long Island Catholic. I am posting it here, because it does not appear to be linked at the paper's website. If the malls and stores wish to banish Our Lord, it is up to us to do more than merely boycott. We need to change our traditions and walk away from the rush and madness for good. Here is the column:

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No one loved Christmas gift giving more than my mother. All year long, she would collect toys here and there, so that when Christmas day dawned, our living room was piled high with presents. I was an only child, so whatever was waiting under the tree was mine. When we celebrated my eldest daughter’s first Christmas, my husband was mildly amused to see the hoard that awaited her. “Does she really need all this stuff?” he asked, surveying the rocking horse, blocks, games, dolls and stuffed animals. As our nine-month-old daughter sucked her thumb and played with the tag on a Teddy bear, I answered with perfect confidence, “Absolutely!”

It makes me smile to remember it now. If I had known we would have nine children, I might have paced myself just a bit. Although materialism has long been a problem in American Christmas tradition, there really was a sweetness to it all those years ago. The old standard song, Silver Bells, describes the season as I remember: “In the air, there’s a feeling of Christmas. Children laughing, people passing, meeting smile after smile.”

Last December, I dropped my teens off at a party and decided to do some Christmas shopping at a local mall. There was something oppressive about the atmosphere. Everyone seemed angry or just bewildered. The shops were trashed. A well known lingerie store hawked its wares just opposite a children’s clothing store. The weary mothers did not bother to shield their children’s eyes from the billboard-sized, soft-porn images. I thought of my days in college, selling cosmetics at a large department store. We would greet each customer with a smile and a “Merry Christmas.” Today, in this mall, not a soul dared to wish another a Merry Christmas, and the whole place seemed smothered in a shroud of misery.

American retailers depend on Christmas shopping for 40% of their yearly income. According to Gallup, the average American adult planned to spend $781 on Christmas gifts this past year, and the numbers are on the rise. How can we continue to celebrate the birth of our Savior by piling up credit card bills and filling our homes with junk purchased from retailers who have purged the name of Christ from their stores?

It may only be September, but this is the year I am going to stop burning incense before the god of materialism. We are planning other ways to celebrate, especially with our littlest children. When I look back upon the happiest Christmases of my life, I remember the red candle my mother burned on Christmas Eve, the choir singing hymns at St. Mary’s Church before Midnight Mass, my father reading the story of the birth of Jesus from a picture book and, many years later, my husband reading “A Christmas Carol” to our children every year.

If Christians are to be shuffled out of the public square in 2015 America, let us go together joyfully, shake the dust of the world from our feet, and gather around the manger. There we will find the only Gift that will ever truly matter.

The Breakfast of Penitents

We came home from Mass yesterday to the planned green smoothies. Notice how cold and lonely this smoothie appears.

This was unposed. Looks like they were making the best of it:

 It was quite delicious actually.

 

For the Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas

When I was in sixth grade, Father Higuero, one of our parish priests, would come once a week to give our class a special catechism lesson.  Father  did not grade or test, but, on the first day of class in September, he gave one simple assignment: Prepare an oral report on the life of a saint and be ready to speak in front of the class whenever called upon. We students knew it would take the entire school year for each one of us to have a turn.

Now if I had been given a girl saint or perhaps a martyr, this would have been right up my alley, but instead of St. Bernadette, Joan of Arc, or valiant St. Laurence, there fell to my lot St. Thomas Aquinas — priest, philosopher, theologian, doctor of the Church. To say that he did not capture my imagination would be putting it mildly.

By the time Father Higuero returned for our second session, I had forgotten about St. Thomas — and the assignment itself for that matter. As he began scanning the rows of children to choose that week’s speakers, I ducked my head behind the girl in front of me, praying, “Dear St. Thomas Aquinas, please do not let him call on me.” To my great relief, two other children were chosen, and I resolved to be prepared the next time. Week after week this went on, with me always forgetting and my prayers to St. Thomas growing ever more fervent.

One morning late in the school year, Sister Kathy announced, “Father Higuero is coming for the last time today and will arrive in a few minutes. In the meanwhile, please read these magazines quietly to yourselves.” My heart sank to hear her words, for of course this meant there would be no more postponing the inevitable. Miserable, I said one last prayer, “Dear St. Thomas, I know I should have learned about your life and didn’t, but won’t you please help me?” The girl in front of me passed back the stack of religious magazines Sister had mentioned. Imagine my delight and wonder when I caught sight of the headline on the back cover: “The Life of St. Thomas Aquinas.” “Thank you, St. Thomas, thank you!” I whispered so low that none but the saint himself could hear and began reading with the greatest interest imaginable.

Half an hour later, Father Higuero nodded approvingly upon hearing a young girl’s enthusiastic account of the life of St. Thomas Aquinas. Although Father never would learn the truth about what a spur-of-the-moment effort it had been, my guess is that he would have been forgiving and perhaps even a bit pleased. After all, thanks to his priestly guidance and teaching, I had managed to learn something about the life of a great saint. Far more important than that, I came to believe for the rest of my life that St. Thomas Aquinas was my friend.

At this very moment, my eldest daughter is taking two SAT subject tests.  When I realized today was the Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas, I smiled knowing she was in good hands.

 

From the Scrapbook: Sacred and Immaculate Heart Dolls

Recently, I stumbled upon these pictures of a craft I prepared for the girls and their friends back in May of 2002. Wooden "Sacred and Immaculate Heart dolls" are easy to make. Begin with wooden cutouts of gingerbread girl shapes, small wooden hearts, glue, paint, and—for the Blessed Mother dolls—blue squares of felt.

June is the month of the Sacred Heart, and these dolls would make a pleasant craft to celebrate the beginning of summer!

Our daughter Theresa and friend Emily O'Neill—then aged six—display their dolls:

Works in progress:

Our friends, Mary Beth and Mary Rose, looked pleased with their projects. [In the background, you will see tissue paper Sacred Hearts, another very easy project. The tissue is lovely against a window, because the sun streams through to give the effect of a suncatcher]:

Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us!
Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us!

A day in May

A day in May begins with Twelfth Night practice.

Our director gave notes to the cast:

in the shade of a large oak:

A sword fight broke out (and, no, this was not part of the play):

We observed the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus with a small altar (can you find it?):

Here is a closer view:

And here it is again after the younger ones (the brothers and sisters of cast members) spent the day adding flowers to it!

A birthday was celebrated:

Make that two birthdays:

And a good time was had by all!

[From left to right: Maria, Feste, and Sir Andrew Aguecheek conspire against Malvolio.]

Bouguereau on Blue and White

Last year's summer in California continues to inspire us!

One of the things we remember well, particularly in Mission Carmel, was the wide variety of blue and white tiles featuring devotional scenes.

The Holy Family:

Our Lady of Mount Carmel:

We also admired the Pieta by Adolphe-William Bouguereau, a larger-than-life painting standing floor to ceiling against a wall of the Legion of Honor Art Museum in San Francisco.

These images and memories formed the inspiration for a simple springtime project--"Blue and White Tiles for Our Lady."

We began with a wooden plaque, holy card, container of tiles, tile glue, and a gold-leafing pen.

It only took about two minutes to gild the edges.

After planning the location of the tiles, a special glue was brushed on the wooden surface and the back of each tile square.

Gluing the tiles did not take long at all.

Here you have it, a partially finished product. It is incomplete because, being a novice at tile work, I thought the mosaic glue would also act as grout. No such luck. I will need to return to the craft store some time soon--or make my own grout from a mixture of white sand and glue. (This photo was taken before the glue dried so you can still see a bit of it round the edges.)

Knowing it might take a month or more before we return to the craft store, I decided to post the project as is, because it is quite pretty already. I am thinking about turning it into a holy water font eventually or putting it on the front door.

Whether or not I ever get around to putting grout in all those cracks!

Beauty lies in many eyes,

particularly those of the children of our homeschooling group.

Here are perhaps a little more than half the children who attended our annual May Crowning yesterday. By the time this group shot was taken, most of the others had already skipped off to the swings, scooters, and snack tables. As usual, blue was the color of the day.

Before the guests arrived, I stockpiled a basket full of medals, cards and books for the children.

The ribbons and medals were part of a simple craft planned for the children--beribboned medals to wear to the crowning. Browsing the craft store, I found favor ties meant for weddings and thought they would be perfect for making wearable pins, particularly because the lilies, white flowers and bells (reminding me of the Bell's of St. Mary's) are so perfect for Our Lady. When crafting for a crowd, it helps to save precious time, and favor ties meant less cutting and measuring of ribbon.

Here is one of the gorgeous little rosary books I picked up for the children--small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, but featuring full color illustrations of all four mysteries (yes, even the Luminous). These books will need to wait a bit though--in the hustle and bustle of the day's events, I forgot to give them out!

The simplest, quickest Marian activity in the world, step-by-step:

The children worked on the pins as they arrived:

My girls love to add their own stamp of creativity to any idea, so here are a few samples they made in the morning:

[Cost per project: about 75 to 99 cents, except for larger medals.]

We began the Crowning with a procession led by the first communicants, followed by all the children. Our music--including Queen of the Holy Rosary, Regina Coeli, Bring Flow'rs of the Fairest, Hail Holy Queen Enthroned Above and others were led by the girls from Our Lady of the Angels Choir under the direction of Miss Lynn Wilson. (I am proud to say that Agnes and Theresa are members.) We said the rosary according to the method of St. Louis de Montfort. [From the appendix of True Devotion to Mary, Montfort Publications.] I had originally hoped to fill a basket with the petitions of all our group members, but this is another of those things that was lost in the shuffle of a busy day.

As you can see, our festive Marian Lanterns made a fitting backdrop for the occasion:

The sight of first communicants in May makes my heart sing--how well I remember being among the joyful first communicants processing into the school yard of St. Mary's School many, many years ago. We too sang "Bring Flowers of the Fairest." The Catholic Faith is the stuff of beautiful memories.

The crowning moment:

And how much do you love this picture of our gorgeous first communicants with Heather's daughter Lily smiling directly at the face of Our Blessed Mother?! I have no doubt Our Lady is smiling right back!

May the grace of the mystery of the Coronation of the Blessed Mother, Queen of Heaven and Earth, come down into our hearts.

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May Crowning trivia: Our three first communicants banner image was taken during last year's crowning.