Rachel Swenson Balducci's blog

Grace enough for the here and now

Thu, 25 Oct 2007 10:05:57 -0500

Last week, our seven-year-old had an accident at school. He slammed into a tree while running full-force as he was looking over his shoulder. He was deep in the throes of Ball Tag, and the real indignity of it all was that he was tagged by the ball just as he hit the tree.

The accident was terribly unnerving for many of the children on the playground; Charlie took most of the force on his forehead, and the head is very vascular. The impact threw my boy to the ground and he was immediately dazed and drenched in blood. By the time I got to the school, ten minutes later, Charlie had some color and was making jokes. But it was still scary and also a mess.

That afternoon, we spent several hours in the emergency room. This was not our first trip to the ER with one of the boys, but it was our first for such a large cut. When it was all said and done, Charlie had a severely bruised knee (X-ray showed no injury), several hearty scrapes and four stitches. Not nearly as bad as things initially seemed they would be.

Throughout this ordeal, I had a sense of calm about the situation. There was grace on it. While I had been marginally worried there would be unsuspected injuries, the doctors were quick to assess and minimize the damage.

During our time at the hospital, however, the longer we were there, the more fearful I became. While I wasn’t worried about the immediate situation, I started to fret about the reality of my life, of being a mother of boys, and specifically five boys with an incredible zest for life. Here I was dealing with one boy with one injury. How could I handle this times five over the course of X number of years?

I started to let my imagination get the better of me. I have a list of things I worry about, my little Rachel’s Top Ten of things I fear will happen to my children. Running full-force into an ancient oak tree isn’t even on the list. How, I started to wonder, could I control all the scary and bad things that could possibly happen? How could I stop them from happening? I used to think worrying would help, but now I’m not so sure.

For a brief moment, in that hospital room, I started to doubt God’s wisdom in giving me all these boys. And I was afraid—afraid of the future, of other injuries and trips to the emergency room and situations that could be worse than this. How could I handle all that, I wondered. I’m simply not strong enough.

And then I realized—I don’t have to be.

In the midst of all my fear and doubt, I somehow felt a wave of calm. God, in his infinite mercy, revealed himself. He gently reminded me of his unending love and his unfailing grace.
There wasn’t grace for any of those other situations—things which may or may not ever happen —because all I could do was deal with right now. I had to stop worrying about the future and focus on this boy and this wound. There was grace for the here and now, and that was all the grace I needed.

A few days earlier, I had been reading the book of John and found a beautiful reminder of God’s love for us. “Let not your heart be troubled,” writes John, “neither let it be afraid.” God really does desire perfect freedom and happiness in each of our lives.

Rachel Swenson Balducci is a freelance writer, wife, mother of five sons and a member of Most Holy Trinity Parish, Augusta.

The gift of wisdom

Thu, 26 Jul 2007 13:47:07 -0500

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite stories of the Old Testament was that of Solomon and his desire for wisdom. I remember really wanting that kind of wisdom, and I’d often ask God to help me make smart choices. God had so freely given the gift to Solomon, in part because he had been smart enough to ask for it. I hoped he would do the same for me!

Of course what I really liked about that story was Solomon’s brilliance in dealing with those two women—how he got right to the bottom of the dilemma when he suggested they split the baby in two. I’m often tempted to go that same route when dealing with the boys’ squabbles, but most times I think they would actually enjoy watching me chop things into halves – that would be more fun for them than even getting their own way.

The wisdom discussed in the Old Testament involves lessons learned and an ability to look at a situation and hash out the issue, seeing two sides with a Godly point of view.

The New Testament talks of a different kind of wisdom. This wisdom, discussed by Paul throughout Corinthians, Ephesians and Romans, involves that same reliance on God; however, it comes to us through the Holy Spirit. While one involves the wisdom of ages—trial and error and using godly principles to guide our thinking—the other involves a breath of the Holy Spirit that affects our thinking beyond what we ourselves could ever know.

When our son Elliott was not quite three, Paul and I started worrying about his speech and hearing. Elliott had suffered over twenty ear infections by that point, and his ability to form words seemed compromised—he talked like someone with a major hearing loss.

I had Elliott’s hearing checked by our pediatrician and by an ear specialist, and both doctors said there was nothing wrong with Elliott’s hearing. But Paul and I could tell something was different. At that point, all we could do was pray that God would show us what, if anything, we should do.

One night, Paul called me into the boys’ room. He had been wrestling with them and out of the blue noticed that Elliott’s tongue was connected much further forward than the other boys. We asked Elliott to stick out his tongue and he could not. He was literally tongue-tied!

We started doing research and talking to the doctors. Soon after, Elliott had a minor surgery that fixed the problem of not being able to move his tongue. After six months of therapy, his speech was normal.

That moment, to me, is a perfect example of God’s generous gift of wisdom. Paul had no prior understanding of ankyloglossia or that each of us has a frenulum (he does now!). But in that moment, the wisdom of the Holy Spirit helped him tune in to something that had a profound impact on our son.

As parents, we rely on this gift of wisdom probably more than we realize. So many times, I’ve asked the Holy Spirit to give me wisdom in dealing with situations with my sons. It’s in the simple day-to-day issues (finding a good schedule for computer time), and also the larger challenges and dilemmas (behavioral struggles). Sometimes wisdom comes in the form of a clear solution; sometimes it simply points us in the direction of the person who can help.

God really does give us every grace we need, and as we hear so clearly in the New Testament, the Holy Spirit offers us more than just great ideas through smart thinking. He offers inspiration, too.

Rachel Swenson Balducci is a freelance writer, wife, mother of four sons and a member of Most Holy Trinity Parish, Augusta.

Couching for life

Fri, 06 Jul 2007 14:20:15 -0500

I’ve spent the last week on bed rest, approaching the end of this pregnancy but not close enough to the end to go into labor just yet. I went to see the doctor who told me to stay on the couch (or in the bed) for another week and then, after that, having the baby would be fine.

Bed rest sounds terribly glamorous and fun, but the truth is it can be a royal pain. I understand now is the time to enjoy the quiet, before the baby is born (because after that it’s going to be a while before you get this much rest!), and I truly try to operate with that in mind. I don’t take it for granted, and I’m extremely grateful to my friends and family members who have helped me lay low during this time. Their generous offers of meal prep, child care and carpools help me care for myself and our unborn baby.

But the truth about motherhood is that while it takes a great deal of abandonment to God, giving up our own plans to do what’s best for the family, it also requires an equal amount of independence and energy and take-charge attitude. On a day-to-day basis, the husband is the head of the household, but the wife is the Chief Operating Officer – she knows what needs to happen and what it takes to get all the ducks into their little rows. In general, it’s the wife and mother who is acutely aware of the need to clearly communicate the strategy for making it all come together.

While I appreciate the downtime that bed rest affords, there have been a few moments of abject frustration. There have been times in the last few days when I had to let go of my plan, of doing it “the way I do things” because I was at the mercy of those serving me. And that can be very tough to do.

One tricky part about letting it all go is the feeling that life is passing you by as you “lay around.” And also, there is that tendency to equate laying around with lazing around. My biggest challenge during these last few days and weeks has been to keep my mind on my goal – to do what’s best for our family by staying healthy.

My youngest son chose this past week, while I was home on the couch, to work up the courage to swim in his first swim meet. All summer, he and I have talked about when he might be ready, and it turns out this was the week. He jumped into the lane and flapped his way down to the other end of the pool.

Paul recorded the whole event, and I watched the tape as soon as they got home that evening. It was incredible to see my little guy swim across the pool, but I’ll admit I was slightly disappointed and a little sad – it would have been so much fun to cheer him on from the side.

“Why did I have to miss this,” I ached as I watched the tape. Instead of being there at the event, I was at home just laying around doing nothing.

And then I reminded myself that it wasn’t nothing – I was simply having to choose the needs of one child over another. And while sitting still is so counter to what I normally do as a mother, it’s exactly what I have to be doing as a mother right now.
It’s what one of our children needs me to do.

Rachel Swenson Balducci is a freelance writer, wife, mother of four sons and a member of Most Holy Trinity Parish, Augusta.

Entering a man’s world

Thu, 10 May 2007 11:58:09 -0500

I took the boys for yet another long over-due trip to the barber the other day. I start to experience slight tinges of guilt leading up to these days because they ask me, every time, if they can start growing their hair out for the summer after this trip, no matter when we go to the barber. Even if summer just ended, they want to already be growing out their hair.

Last time we went, at the start of Lent, I thought maybe that would be the last cut before summer. I may have even told the boys as much. But lo and behold, time flies and before I know it everyone is looking a little shaggy – hair and nails included (“I have hobbit feet!” remarked one boy recently. And he was absolutely right.). And then I realized that with Elliott’s First Communion this week, despite my earlier claims, there would indeed be another shearing before summer.

Even with all their pleading for summertime growth, the truth is that the boys will still get haircuts in the summer too. They should be grateful; as the barber so frankly told them, most boys start off the summer with a Buzz—a cut we reserve for emergency-only, like self-inflicted-trims-gone-bad.

I’m sure the boys are starting to catch on to the reality of their life which is a) our school has a strictly-enforced Hair Code and b) so does their father. It’s called a Boy’s Haircut.
One thing I do love about taking them to the barber (besides getting to torture all four of them at once) is the utter manliness of the whole scene. The barbershop is totally made for the male of the species. And the reality is that when we get there, they totally love it.

At our recent trip, as Elliott waited for his turn in the chair, he settled on a copy of Hunting magazine to pass the time.
“Guns and Ammo is better than this,” he said flipping through the pages. He read quietly for a minute and then turned to me. “I was on fire today in Math,” he said with an exhale. “You wouldn’t believe.”

It’s so interesting, in moments like this, to watch the innate difference between my sons and me. Even at this young age, they are drawn to the things of men—activities that encourage adventure and a sense of mission. They want to hunt and gather while I sit by and nurture.

So many times around our house, I will become self-aware in the middle of an activity and think, “I wonder if homes with little girls do this sort of thing?” Things like jumping off the deck onto a soft target below. Or spending all afternoon alternately whittling sticks and shooting the B.B. gun. Or having addition and subtraction contests that seem to have no end in sight.

I realize of course that many of these things would interest a girl too (right?). I do remember loving to zip through my times-tables for whoever would listen. But when I was done with that, I liked telling Barbie it was time to change her outfit. I learned several years ago that part of the challenge of being a Mom, an alpha female in a home filled with boys, was going to be figuring out when to reign them in (“Jumping off the roof is absolutely out of the question. Don’t ask again.”), and when to let them be them. Because many of the things they like to do I am initially inclined to nip in the bud. Just because.

The challenge—and the joy—is figuring out which of these crazy things are really perfectly fine. And the most fun is when I figure that out, relax, and enjoy the show.

Rachel Swenson Balducci is a freelance writer, wife, mother of four sons and a member of Most Holy Trinity Parish, Augusta.

Recognizing our talents—and limitations

Thu, 03 May 2007 12:42:57 -0500

I’m going to admit something to you here that I don’t talk about a lot: making costumes overwhelms me. There it is—my secret shame.

A few years ago, I invested in a very nice sewing machine, and while I have used it mostly for making costumes, these are all quite rudimentary—a cape here, a sash there. With no princess in the house, our idea of an elaborate get-up is basically anything with a piece of fabric and a weapon, preferably one that is sharp. Around here, less is more.

Every year our neighborhood celebrates All Saint’s Day with a big party that includes children dressing as their favorite saint. It’s a fun evening with games and prizes and a variety of costumes that run the spectrum (a heavily done-up Queen Esther is always popular, but the impoverished saints are making a comeback).

For many years, I started planning for the party with such high hopes and excitement, only to feel defeated the minute we arrived at the celebration. It turns out some women have significantly more talent in the sewing department. The boys never noticed, but I sure did.

It’s not that we lacked imagination; just the ability to get it off the paper and onto fabric.

One year I remember feeling so proud of our Saint John the Baptist costume: fuzzy leopard-print fabric cut at an angle, gold cord around the waist. The costume included a beautiful staff and a bag of bugs (for eating in the desert). Perfect.

When we got to the party, however, I immediately noticed a boy whose get-up included embroidered crosses on the collar. There were shimmering queens and stately priests and a Juan Diego with the most perfect Our Lady of Guadalupe painted on his tilma.

We had bugs. Bugs and some gold cord.

But that year was a turning point for me. Because I realized, in the midst of so many elaborate costumes (and some quite simple) that it was time to embrace who I was. I was going to be content with the costuming talents I had, talents that did not, at this point, include much beyond Sewing 101.

Instead of fretting about my inability to gather and tuck and smock, I decided to enjoy the time I spent working with the boys on their costumes. And not compare.

I realized I could appreciate the many fine talents of other moms around me, their ability to sew and paint and create in different ways than me. I could recognize the beauty of all they could do, without that reflecting on what I couldn’t do.

In the midst of it all, I realized – I do the best I can. When I find opportunities to grow in skills, I’ll take them. But I’ll also take it in stride. If working on costumes gives me a cold sweat, I guess that’s my little cross to bear.

Life is filled with comparisons of course; we all have things we’re good at, and things we struggle with. Motherhood, I suppose, sometimes brings out the differences even more.

But here’s the truth: for every marvelous housekeeper out there, there is someone who would rather ignore the mess until that’s no longer possible. For each woman who loves to decorate, there is someone who’d rather not.

And for every area we think we are lacking, there is a different area where we thrive. That’s how God made us—with a variety of talents and interests.

Our job is to encourage each other, and laugh with each other and in times of need, use our gifts to help out those around us (can you sew? Call me.).

Rachel Swenson Balducci is a freelance writer, wife, mother of four sons and a member of Most Holy Trinity Parish, Augusta.

“He has not done the like for any other nation”

Mon, 16 Apr 2007 12:49:17 -0500

Years ago, when Paul lived in Mexico City and I was a college student in Atlanta, he sent home to me a beautiful silver necklace that was popular with many of the women in Mexico City. Part of the necklace was a medallion with the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and on the back was a phrase in Latin that I’ve never been able to translate.
In the days before Internet research engines, when I worked at the local newspaper, I asked around the newsroom to see if anyone could translate the words. No one could tell me what the medallion said. I asked a few other people with a working knowledge of Latin and while they knew the language, they could not translate the phrase.
For years, I wore the necklace on an almost daily basis, never knowing what it said (and having to explain that to people when they asked). Some time ago, however, the chain broke and I inadvertently buried the entire necklace in my jewelry box and forgot about it.
For the last year, I’ve really wanted a necklace to wear and have been looking and pricing different pieces. But in spite of my efforts, I never found anything I really loved.
I was at lunch recently and noticed a friend wearing a beautiful silver necklace. It reminded me of my long-buried Guadalupe medallion, and how that medal was exactly what I wanted. What I already had was just the thing I had been looking for. It really only needed a new chain.
A few days later, I went shopping and found a beautiful silver chain, one that worked even better than the original (which had always been a tad long and hit me in a funny place). When I slipped the medallion on the chain and held it to my neck, my eyes started to well. It was perfect and beautiful and only needed a slight cleaning to be the necklace I’d been wanting.
“I think I’ll just wear this out of the store,” I told the saleslady.
“Let me clip off the tag,” she offered. And then, looking at the long-buried Lady, “and let me clean this for you.”
The saleslady took the medallion and started to polish it. When she handed it back, it was the shining piece of silver art that I got in the mail from Paul all those years ago. I started to cry.
“Thank you so much,” I sniffled, embarrassed by my emotions (which I quickly blamed on the pregnancy).
When I got home that afternoon, I started looking at the necklace and had a realization—the Internet could help me translate the Latin.
I emailed a cyber-friend and asked if she would post something on her Web site, one of the most popular Catholic forums on the Internet.
“Done!” was her almost-instant reply.
An hour later, I checked her site to discover the phrase had already been translated for me.
Non fecit taliter omni nationi—”He did not do the like for any other nation.”
Beautiful. These are the words uttered by Pope Benedict XIV when he heard of the apparition, a quote from Psalm 147.
Part of the problem, I discovered, is that the phrase, actually five words, is written as three much longer words on the medallion. The untrained eye (mine) didn’t know to separate them out.
Anyone with a love of Our Lady of Guadalupe, or even someone who is simply familiar with the story, will understand the depth of that phrase—he did not do the like for any other nation.
When Jesus sent his blessed mother to the peasant Juan Diego, it changed the course of so much for that country. A beautiful gift, indeed.

Rachel Swenson Balducci is a freelance writer, wife, mother of four sons and a member of Most Holy Trinity Parish, Augusta.

Keeping God in all we do

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 09:07:31 -0600

Eight-year-old Elliott came to me recently, eager to show me a book he had just written —three pages clipped together that included a variety of artwork and prose.

The cover of his publication (titled Cover) was devoted to Star Wars. On this page were artistic renderings of Anakin and Obi-Wan, as well as two detailed light sabers and one Jedi of his own making, entitled (appropriately) “My Own Jedi.”
Page Two was called Lord of the Rings, and was basically a tribute to the many fine weapons found in these epic books and movies. This page was filled with colorful swords, lariats and one bow-and-arrow set that even included a few drops of fresh blood (a nice artistic touch).

The final page offered a change of pace. It was titled My Prayer, and it said the following:

Dear God, please guide me in your ways and help me to get good grades in school and that I may be nice to my family. If you guide me to be an NBA player I’ll do it. You are the King of all Kings so help me. Please. Amen.

I read this page several times, delighted and amused. What was it about this prayer that I loved so much? It was such a change from the previous pages of weapons and warriors that it took me off guard.

I finally realized that I was moved by Elliott’s candid request to the Lord, how seamless it was with the rest of who he is. He wasn’t afraid to have it all in there together. Elliott loves a good weapon. He loves warriors. He loves basketball. And he loves Jesus.

They all go together perfectly.

As a mom, I’m getting a deeper understanding of what Jesus means when he says “let the little children come unto me.” He wants our children just as they are—and they are not afraid to give it all to him.

Children so beautifully offer every part of themselves to Jesus. They ask Jesus for help when they are worried or scared, but they also offer their joys and hopes and dreams. And children never think anything is too big (NBA player) or too small (prayer times with small children can be very interesting and also packed with information).

In this same way, as Jesus says in Matthew, we are to have a child-like approach in our relationship with him. “Unless you change and become like little children,” he says, “you will not enter the kingdom of God.”

Jesus wants to be a part of everything we do and all that we are – our hopes and dreams and also our worries and concerns. He wants to hear it all, from our plans for the future to our struggles in relationships. But mostly, he just wants to hear from us, for us to invite him into every area of our life.
Loving God and loving life are not mutually exclusive—in fact, they go hand in hand. Our relationship with Christ is not some boring thing we keep tucked up on the shelf until we don our Sunday finest and head out to Mass, some stuffy relationship reserved only for quiet moments of desperation.

And just like a child, our relationship with God can to be seamless. Of course God is present in a very real way at Adoration and Mass, but he’s also with us (in a different capacity) as we take a hike or clean the kitchen or work on that hook shot for the NBA tryouts (because you never know).
He is there for it all.

Rachel Swenson Balducci is a freelance writer, wife, mother of four sons and a member of Most Holy Trinity Parish, Augusta.

Bringing up the gifts with major bed-head

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 10:49:54 -0600