Protecting innocence is of utmost importance

Katie innocently snuggled up to her grandfather in his hospital bed. She was oblivious to the concerned faces of everyone else in the room. She was old enough to understand, but she is severely autistic, and couldn't intellectually grasp the gravity of her grandfather's sever stroke. All she knew was grandpa needed a hug; he needed love and compassion.

Catholic journalist, best-selling author and speaker Michael Coren tugged the audience's collective heartstrings with the story of his niece's innocent love for her grandfather—love that he credits as a turning point in his father's recovery—recently in Saskatoon, Sask. He punctuated the emotional story with the contrasting world-view that many think "people like Katie" shouldn't be alive; they should be aborted instead of becoming a burden to parents and society.

Coren made it abundantly clear that intellectual and factual arguments need to accompany the personal, and often emotional, debate about an unborn baby's right to life. "It's not about religion. It's about science and about morality,"he said. "Life begins at conception. It's a scientific fact. Abortion is objectively terrible. It's killing millions of tiny human beings in what should be the safest place on earth—the womb."

According to Coren, there are three groups of people who are victims of abortion more than any other: the disabled, particularly those with down syndrome; people of brown or black skinned ethnicity; and women.

In our world, where the value of a human being is too often connected to one's economic contribution, it is tragically not surprising the intellectually or physically disabled are increasingly denied the right to be born.

The last two groups are often combined in countries or cultures where girls have lower social standing than boys. China and India, the world's most populace countries, are examples. China's one child policy  has left a generation of men unable to find a spouse because girls are often selectively aborted or abandoned at birth.

The fact girls are selectively aborted in great numbers makes it personal for those female pro-choice advocates who fight in the name of women's rights. Coren stated that making it personal is a necessary component of the equation for people to understand abortion is something more than an abstract concept for the enlightened; it's cruelly ending the life of an innocent unborn child.

Coren is unabashedly bold about standing up for what is right, for the right of the unborn to live. He stated that in comparison, all social causes—health care, education, welfare—pale in comparison. "It's the issue that matters most."

Learn more about Michael Coren
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What are you waiting for?

Her heart started beating faster as he walked down the aisle in her direction. "Don't make eye contact and he'll leave you alone," she thought.

He reached out her hand toward her. Me?

His gesture was obvious. Yes. You.

It was the first week of advent; my wife was eight-and-a-half months pregnant with our first child. The priest was notorious for randomly selecting people to answer questions or be part of his demonstrations. He kept us all on our toes.

As the two of them stood in front of the children who were about to be sent to children's liturgy, the priest used his very pregnant, very nervous guest as an example of someone waiting for something.

"What's she waiting for?" he asked the children.

The chorus of little voices responded, "She's going to have a baby."

"How can you tell?" was the follow-up, or set-up.

"Because she's fat," chimed in one innocent little voice, getting a hearty laugh from the congregation.

Two weeks later, the priest walked down the same aisle. This time to select a sleeping baby as his volunteer. He reminded everyone of the pregnant lady a couple weeks earlier and proudly held up our sweet little peanut—the wait was over, the joy realized, the hope fulfilled.

As new parents, we had no idea what was ahead. Sure, we read the books, we took the classes, we felt prepared. But any parent will tell you, that doesn't really get you ready. What lies ahead is unique for each parent, or each family. You have to experience and learn things in due time to grow into your role as parents.

So too goes the season of advent. It's a time to prepare for Christ to come—to remember His birth and to wait for Him to come again with hope. We can (and should) pray, read, go to Mass, serve in joyful anticipation. But the true preparation comes with the experience of advent, the experience of Christ and His saving love, the experience of His birth in your life every day. No book, can prepare you for the change Jesus wants to make in your life.

Just as a birth needs to take place for an expectant mother's anticipation, joy and hope to be fulfilled, the birth of the Christ child—literally and figuratively—needs to take place in each of us for the anticipation of advent to be fulfilled.

The question we each should answer is, "What are you waiting for this advent?" Are you merely waiting for the hustle and bustle of the season to be over? Are you waiting to experience the same thing you have for the past several years? Are you waiting for food and drink? Are you waiting for family and friends? Are you waiting for Jesus to be born anew in your life and to experience life like never before?

What lies beyond advent is a unique journey for each of us. May we prepare well, and experience life to its fullest.

40 reasons turning 40 is a sweet deal

Technically it's middle-age, and that term comes with baggage. But I consider turning 40 to be the sweetspot of life. So, in no particular order, here are 40 reasons I'm celebrating my 40th this week (and a hint on what I'm celebrating with).

1. I don't have to buy the cheapest beer or bottle of booze in the aisle anymore.
2. I can still eat Kraft Dinner (mac and cheese for you non-Canadians), but it's now a choice, not a necessity.
3. My kids are getting old enough to do things around the house and yard I hate doing.
4. My kids are still young enough that "Because I said is so" is a perfectly acceptable answer (most of the time).
5. On the continuum of starting and ending life wearing diapers, I'm the farthest from either end that I'll ever be.
6. It's OK if I don't have my ID when I go out for drinks.
7. If I do get asked for ID, it's a story to share with friends for months.
8. I'm still way to young to even consider the senior's discount.
9. I'm old enough to remember the good 'ol days.
10. I'm young enough to not refer to the past as the good 'ol days.
11. I don't have to worry about memory problems yet.
12. I know what a rotary phone is so I appreciate my iPhone way more.
13. I appreciate my laptop isn't the size of a suitcase.
14. I don't have to worry about memory problems yet.
15. I've seen and experienced enough pain in life to know I've got it good.
16. I've seen and experienced enough joy and happiness in life to know I'm blessed.
17. I'm young enough it's still OK if neighbourhood kids walk on my lawn.
18. I'm old enough that if I do tell kids to get off my lawn, they don't think it's too weird.
19. Grey is the new black (or brown, or red, or blonde) when it comes to hair.
20. I know "rad" is still the best word to describe something that's cool.
21. I have skillz to use a record player, an 8-track player, cassette player, CD player, iPod and Songza.
22. I remember when "crossover" vehicles where called station wagons, and we got to ride/play in the back of a wood-panelled one.
23. I have experienced an arcade, Atari, Intellivision, Coleco, many iterations of Playstation, Wii and online games.
24. I've been around long enough to not over-react when Netflix takes more than eight seconds to load a movie because I appreciate I don't have to drive to a store to rent a movie.
25. I'm thankful I no longer have to "be kind and rewind" after watching a movie.
26. My mini-van full of kids and a beautiful wife beats a convertible roadster mid-life crisis vehicle—hands down.
27. I remember the feeling of the wind going through my hair while riding my bike, but I realize the move to helmets is pretty darn smart.
28. I still have lots of hair for the wind to blow through if it weren't under a bike helmet.
29. It's still my choice if the kids beat me playing any sport.
30. If I reflect on what I've done in my life, taking a peak at the kids sleeping is the only answer I need to bring a smile to my face.
31. I can get down on the floor to play with the kids and still get up without throwing something out of alignment, spraining, straining or cracking something, or making a loud grunting-groaning noise.
32. Over the years, I've amassed a collection of tools large enough that I no longer have to run to the hardware store for every project. Hmm, now that I write that, I need to think of more excuses reasons to get more tools.
33. I get to go to cartoon movies without creeping out parents—as long as I go with my kids.
34. I appreciate how much better a 50" plasma HDTV is than a 12" black-and-white TV with rabbit ears and a dial to change the channel.
35. Moving back to my mom's every summer to save money for university is a distant memory. Score one for independence!
36. I am in the top 0.21% of the world's richest people according to the Global Rich List. Wow! That's eye-opening.
37. I've been driving my own car for longer than I wasn't able to drive (legally). Score another one for independence!
38. I get to pick where we go for summer vacations and road trips. Walley World in 2014! Holiday ro-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oad. Holiday ro-o-o-o-o-o-oad.
39. I still have the stamina to tie-one-on for a big celebration—like, say a 40th birthday party—and be able to get up early when one of my little human alarm clocks wakes the whole household.
40. After 40 years of messing up, Jesus still loves and forgives me.

So there it is. Like fine wine, a single malt scotch, and good cheese, I'm getting better with age. What are some things you appreciate about your sweetspot of life?

Why marketers need to write liturgical music

It's been two years since we've seen changes to the Roman Catholic Mass, and, even though the new responses are now second nature to most, the liturgical music misses the mark.

To be clear, I'm not talking hymns, I'm referring to things like the Gloria, the Sanctus, etc. that had to change when the language of the prayers changed.

Before I go any further, I must be perfectly blunt. I am not a musician. I do appreciate good music (which is subjective, so don't get in a huff about my opinion). My musical abilities are more than non-existant, but less than abundant. I enjoy "making a joyful noise to the Lord," and let's just leave it at that.

I don't think the music we have in church is appropriate for its purpose. I think evidence of this is the fact that two years later, most people in the congregation, and the occasional choir member, can't remember the tune or timing. I see this at our home parish and at parishes we visit when traveling.

It may indeed be great music, which is testament to the fact that there are great composers out there. But I think they totally miss who is supposed to be singing the music. People like me. Average Joes and Janes. It's not meant to be a musical performance. It's meant to get everyone there singing and praising God.

Which is why I think the Church should employ a team of marketers and jingle writers to compose liturgical music. How many times have you had a jingle stuck in your head all day, and you can't stop humming it? Lots! Sure, they may not be the most musically complex or cultured pieces ever written. But they are written to make sure the average person can understand it, hum or sing along with it, and remember it so you can go buy their product or service.

How great would it be if everyone had the Gloria stuck in their head all day?

Instead, we're stuck mumbling through music because it's too complex for the average person. In an attempt to make music more, well, musical, more sophisticated, and overall more interesting, we have instead made music something the congregation sits back and listens to because we can't keep up with the level of performance.

Let's make church music accessible for everyone to sing and give the Lord the praise He is due. Bring on the marketers.

Parenting: being a steward of children

We use possessive language when we refer to our children. We procreate; they are our own flesh and blood. And one of our most famous Hollywood dads, Bill Cosby, is credited with saying, "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out."

Have you ever considered the notion that they are not our children—they are God's—and we're just entrusted with their care here on Earth?

It's a familiar Christian concept with many things, especially material things. We use the word stewardship, and at this time of year you will likely hear the concept several times.

At our parish, like many others, we have stewardship Sunday, where we offer our varied gifts and talents to the various ministries and volunteer opportunities that make our parish vibrant.

Our diocese, like many others, launches its Bishop's Annual Appeal fundraising initiative that supports a variety of diocese-wide ministries. We are called to be good stewards of our time, talent and treasure to build up God's kingdom here on Earth.

Being a good steward means that something isn't really yours, but you treat it as if it was, taking care of it and trying to return it to its owner in better shape than when it was entrusted to you. Have you ever borrowed someone's car? You drive it more carefully than you do your own, don't you? You may even put a few extra bucks of gas in so they are likely to lend it to you in the future.

Jesus illustrates this concept best in the parable of the talents (cf Mat 25:14-30). A master trusts his servants with money and expects more money when he returns. It's not enough to return the original value, the master expects the state of his goods to have improved.

Now consider that concept in relation to our children. It's not unusual to think of people being God's children: God knit us in our mother's womb (cf Psalm 139); he knows every hair on our head (cf Mat 10:30); we shall be called children of God (cf John 1:12), and many many more. And we hope for the resurrection of the body for ourselves and our children, when we all return to the Father in our eternal home.

So if we are stewards of our children, that means it is our job to return them to the father better than their original state. It is our responsibility to have them initiated into Christ's family through the cleansing waters of Baptism and the other sacrements. It is our job to teach them what is right and good. It is our job to guide them along the path of holiness. We want what is best for them because we treat them as our own—and in a very real sense they are—but also because we want to celebrate their return to the Father, their entrance into Heaven, without stain of sin and ready to embrace the eternal and overwhelming love of our Saviour.

As we consider our gifts and talents and how we can be a good steward for our church community, let's also consider how we can be better stewards of God's children—a.k.a. parents.

Bringing home the hardware from Bible camp

The final day of Vacation Bible School (VBS) brought home a welcome surprise.

Last week three of our kids attended VBS at our local parish.

It was a bitter sweet week for our oldest. This is the last year she falls within the age limits. She is eager to graduate to be a helper next year. I'm proud of her; she generally shies away from these types of ways to serve. So that will be a big step for her and building confidence.

When I got home from work each day, the kids were excited to show me their daily cache of artwork, crafts, saint cards and other goodies.

On the final day, I didn't have time to ask how their last day was. Our 4 year old, who was proud to be old enough to attend this year, excitedly showed me a trophy as soon as I walked through the door.

Before I proceed, let me share a bit about our four year old. She is super cute. She can be a great helper, sweet as honey showering us with, "I love you." She loves to snuggle. But there is a darker side. We sometimes describe her as a volcano—beautiful to look at while she's dormant, but a threat to everyone around her when she's erupting, which could be at any moment.

I know what you're thinking, "All pre-schoolers are a little emotional and unpredictable." True, but she is the Mt. Vesuvius of children. I'm not talking a beautiful Hawaiian volcano. No, she's unpredictable mass destruction with adorable blonde curls.

Waking up in the morning can either be happy and cheerful, or she's more ornery than the most sever caffeine addict before her morning fix.

Mealtimes can be pleasant, or she can cry and whine for hours because she has the wrong cup-plate-bowl colour combination, or you gave her exactly the food she requested, or her milk is too white. OK, I made that last one up, but it's not an exaggerated example; it could happen.

Bedtime can be sweet and calm and prayerful, or she can erupt because, well, at this point there doesn't need to be a reason. It's the end of the day, and she's just done. Not that there's ever a real reason for an eruption.

Ah yes, the trophy. During the week, kids were able to earn "reward points" for doing good things, being a good listener or helper, etc. Positive reinforcement 101. Our four year-old got the trophy for being the best listener/helper throughout the week!

I'm not sure if I should be proud that we raised her to be so good or feel like an incredible failure for not seeing that type of cooperation at home more often. Heck, I'm having a good day—incredibly proud it is!

The circus that is mealtime with toddlers

Meals with kids are, well, let's say interesting. Maybe the whole three ring circus that is mealtime with young children will be another post for another time. For now, let's see what's in ring number one: getting toddlers to eat.

Menu selection should be fairly straight forward. The good ol' Canada's Food Guide (I'm sure there's an equivalent in your region or country) offers many options to have a well-balanced diet from the four major food groups. But we all know it doesn't work that way. Kids can get finicky, so we usually stick to our precious little ones' favourites. Of course, as soon as you cook their favourite, they don't like it.

I love those magazines that have "16 fun ways to make your kids eat" articles. They are one way to make parents regurgitate their meal. Sorry, I didn't go to culinary arts school. I don't have a team of assistant chefs spending hours prepping things. And I'm not a graphic designer who can photo edit the already near-perfect creations. OK, my wife is a graphic designer, so maybe that doesn't fit. But you get the point.

Just for argument's sake, let's assume I did have the time and skill. They are usually fun little animals or bugs we can create with our food. Seriously? Toddlers play with animals and more often than not scream "BUG!" if one comes close to them. Not the best choice.

Instead of engaging in the battle of wills (all the time), we've relaxed our theory of eating a fair bit with each subsequent child (we have four if you're keeping score). We have somewhat of a hybrid approach to getting our toddler to eat. It's a combination of realizing they will get a balance diet over time, maybe just not all in the same sitting like we do and should as adults; they really will eat when they are hungry enough; bribing them does work in the short term, and I do realize we're probably leading to therapy-worthy issues in the future; and we're OK with doing absolutely bizarre things to get the toddler to eat.

Our list of bizarre behaviour includes:

• The classic airplane. A current favourite with our 2 year old.
• Trains. Thank you Thomas the Tank Engine for offering a wide variety of characters to go through the tunnel. Variety is the spice of life.
• Cars, especially Lightning McQueen and 'Mater.
• Strawberry jam. When our son was young he would not eat his cereal without strawberries. When they weren't in season we tried strawberry jam. It worked. Mostly.
• Faking them out - option 1. "Look, daddy will eat some," and then pretend to eat a spoonful. Really sell it with an emphatic "Mmmm!"
• Faking them out - option 2. When  you know they want something else at the table, pretend to put in their bowl and mix it in. Unfortunately, you get away with this only once, maybe twice. Their taste buds can tell they've been duped.
• Peer pressure. Get the older ones to say they like it. Of course, that one can back fire when the older ones complain they don't like something. All of a sudden no one likes it, even if it's usually a favourite or the younger ones haven't even tasted it yet.
• Reverse psychology. "You don't like chicken do you?"
• And perhaps the most bizarre, and a hit for two kids in a row, having the food talk to the toddler. That's right. Talking food gets eaten. I don't know why it works, but my wife is some sort of culinary ventriloquist. First, the food needs to get the toddler's attention, "Um, excuse me. I want to see your teeth. Can I come visit your teeth?" Like she's under some sort of hypnotic spell, the toddler opens her mouth ready to oblige the food's request. The food lets out a little "ouch" with the first chew, and for some reason this doesn't horrify the toddler; it excites her. Should I be concerned about that? Then of course, other pieces of food want to join the first, and the toddler is more than happy to oblige. Again, I have no idea why that works, but I'm thankful it does on a regular basis.

What sort of bizarre circus acts do you perform to get your toddler to eat?

A Father's gift

Let's play Jeopardy.

The answer is the Holy Spirit.

The question is contained in today's gospel reading (Lk 11:1-13). Jesus is teaching His disciples how to pray. We are given the Our Father and the well known, oft misinterpreted phrase, "Ask and it will be given."

We too often interpret this as free license to ask God for whatever we want, no matter how selfish or ludicrous, and get mad at God for not living up to His word about giving.

We rationalize, "But you said you would give whatever I ask. You said you give better gifts than me, and I give pretty cool gifts come Christmas and birthdays."

Now for the question in today's game of Jeopardy: What should we ask for so we can receive it in abundance, without fail? The Holy Spirit.

It's worth quoting the last verse for clarity, "How much more will the Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?" There is no mention of health, prosperity, a nice car, or anything material or self-serving. God is willing to give you whatever you ask for, as long it's in accordance with His will, and that is always more Holy Spirit in our lives to enable us to love and serve as Jesus did.

As a father, I don't give my children Doritos, chocolate or ice cream for breakfast when they ask. Not just because I ate them all last night, but because I know it's not good for them. I won't say no to something healthy. I'll give it in abundance.

Likewise, God, as the loving Father, gives us things that are good for us in abundance. It's a good healthy dose of the Holy Spirit that guides us to ask for all the right things.

Come Holy Spirit.

How many times do I have to tell you?

Kids don't listen.

It's a simple, universal truth.

I don't think they're being deliberately disobedient (most of the time). I think they're just involved in their own little world, and my droning voice doesn't register until I say things "like, a million times," and it reaches a decibal level equivelant to a CF-18 doing a low level flyby at the air show.

Once I do have their attention, out comes one of those phrases we all said we would never say when were parents. My go-to cliche is, "How many times do I have to tell you...?"

Just to shake things up I also use, "If I have to tell you one more time..."or "If I've told you once, I've told you a [large exaggerated number] times!" The odd time I silently mouth the words, acting like I'm yelling, but don't make a sound, just to mess them up. Odd that I'm the only one who thinks that is clever at the time—or ever.

Teaching kids what is right, teaching them to make good decisions and act upon them, takes a lot of patience and persistence. And as parents, that means repeating ourselves a lot.

I often wonder how frequently God says to us, "How many times do I have to tell you...?" Admit it, you know what you're supposed to do, but you don't do it all the time. There's the battle between spirit and flesh (cf Gal 5:17) raging within every single day, many times per day.

Kids don't listen. Universal truth. It applies to all of us as God's children.

God, being the patient and persistent Father that He is, doesn't really want an answer to the question. It's truly rhetorical because He is always ready and willing to forgive, to let us know it's OK if we don't listen perfectly all the time, to let us know His love is unconditional.

As disciples of Christ, we must be merciful as God has been merciful to us (cf Mat 5:7), forgive more than we want to (cf Mat 18:22), give that same unconditional and sacrificial love we have been given. Even if we have to say something a million times before it sinks in.

St. Joseph, patron of fathers and protector of families, pray for us.

Now, don't make me repeat myself.

Maybe we could just stay home

It's the height of festival season in Saskatoon, Sask., and there are loads of activities to keep families busy, to soak up the sun, or to just whittle away a nice summer day.

The jazz festival wrapped-up, the air show is this weekend, there are concerts galore, my favourite food festival—Taste of Saskatchewan—starts in a couple weeks, Shakespeare on the Saskatchewan kicks-off their season this weekend, there are parks, spray parks and pools-a-plenty, and if the water level goes down, we can enjoy the river and all it has to offer again.

When my wife and I think about taking the kids out to enjoy all our beautiful city has to offer, I find myself thinking, "Or, maybe we could just stay home."

The scenario is a familiar one: we have to fight with at least two kids to go to the bathroom before we leave; even though I built lockers for each kid in the mudroom, there is sure to be a fight over real estate with a screechy, "I was there first;" a collection of stuffed animals that would make any toy store proud gets gathered; at least two kids need snacks this instant; the toddler still in diapers decides now is the perfect time to drop a bomb in said diaper; there is a lengthy debate over what shoes to wear (funny, it's just the girls who do that); and someone screams bloody murder that a stuffed animal got left behind a nano-second after the door gets locked. And this is summer, when we don't have to bundle up.

Just leaving the house can be exhausting. "What?!? There's more? Just let Daddy have a quick nap before we leave the garage."

But we want more for our kids. We want them to experience the world around them. We want them to know the joy and excitement of discovering something new. We want them to know how blessed we are to live in a great city in a great country.

Before we had kids we said we didn't want to be parents that used their kids as an excuse to not do things. We may have to do things differently, or do different things, but it's worth the effort, even if I don't see it all the time or right away.

I understand why some parents have simply abandoned the leaving-the-house-Sunday-morning ritual. I've said to my wife several times, "This is why parents chose to stay home instead of go to church."

But we want more for our kids. We want them to experience the love of the one who created them and the world around them. We want them to know the joy and excitement of discovering all their Catholic faith has to offer. We want them to know how blessed they are to have the freedom to worship and to have a community—both in Heaven and on Earth—that supports their journey every step of the way. We want them to love and be loved.

Just as we made a commitment to foster activity and discovery with our children, we made a commitment to pass on our faith. And the rewards of that will be infinitely greater than having fun during festival season.

Now, what shoes should I wear?

The best thing I've ever done for my kids

The best thing I've ever done for my kids is to get away from them a whole week.

My wife and I recently went on a week-long holiday—kid-free! Other than a weekend marriage encounter when we only had one child, this is the first time we've gotten away, just the two of us. Celebrating 15 years of marriage is a pretty good excuse to get away and recharge our parenting batteries.

Enjoying our Lighthouse Picnic in Ferryland, NL

We are truly blessed to have had the chance to focus on our marriage without the distractions of everyday life, without four fighting and screaming small people, without running to swimming lessons and soccer practices, without work, without grocery shopping, without mountains of laundry, without cooking and cleaning. It did our relationship a world of good.

We got to talk about something other than dirty diapers, homework struggles, frustrations at work, who didn't eat their peas—again, why someone had TV taken away—again, and all those other mundane things that consume parents. We even had the stamina to stay out past 10 pm. On more than one occasion!

It's no secret parenting is hard work and can be tiring. OK, exhausting at times. It's truly a 24/7 job, and it's one we do joyfully—in theory if not in practice all the time. So it makes sense that to do it well, to live one's vocation as spouse and parent, focusing on the marriage part is essential. And to be able to focus on that uninterrupted is a good thing. It's a great thing.

Jesus spoke about building on a solid foundation (cf Mat 7:24), and the solid foundation on which good parenting is built is marriage. We're refreshed and ready to help our little ones grow and reach their inherent God-given potential. We're ready to do it with renewed energy and enthusiasm. We're ready to  live our vocation and grow in holiness each and every day. We're ready for bed at 10 pm again.

What are some ways you focus on your marriage and recharge your parenting batteries?

Father's Day

To all you fathers and father figures out there. Have a great day! This is a day to celebrate and reflect how crucial fatherhood is. Every kid needs a father figure in their lives. May we be a clear reflection of our heavenly Father's boundless and unconditional love. 

St. Joseph, thanks for being such a wonderful example of fatherhood. Pray for us!

PS: This may be my shortest post ever because I wrote it on my phone. Will be back at a computer for the next post. 

Nurturing nature

I planted some saskatoon berry bushes in my recently cleared patch of dirt along the side of my house. If you have ever had saskatoons—in a pie, jam, as a sauce over pancakes or ice cream, or with fresh cream and honey like I used to have at my grandparent's—you will know how thrilled I am to have my own bushes. If you haven't had the pleasure of tasting saskatoons, I feel sorry for you.

It will be a few years before my little bushes are big enough to produce fruit, so I am taking the time to nurture them. The soil was prepared, I purchased good quality plants, the spot for them gets the right amount of light, they get watered and fertilized regularly, and I'll have to weed and till the soil occassionally. This routine will need to continue until the hearty bush is well established, ready to brave the elements of a prairie winter and potentially dry summer on its own.

It makes sense—it's almost intuitive—that we need to nurture plants. It takes a lot of time and not a little know-how, which doesn't necessarily come naturally.

Now read that last paragraph and substitute plants with marriage, children, relationship with God.

Does it seem as intuitive? I think it does. But more often than not I don't put the same effort into nurturing people and relationships that I do nurturing my precious bushes or garden. And still I expect them all to bear fruit.

Like plants, a marriage needs preparation, choosing the right person and feeding the relationship with time, sacrifice, service and prayer.

Like plants, children need their soil tilled from time-to-time, the weeds removed, they need to be fed and watered—not just in the physiological sense. In short, they need a lot of TLC if they are to grow and bear fruit as healthy and loving adults.

Like plants, our relationship with our creator needs to be nurtured if we are to bear fruit as His disciples. We need to be open to His love and nurturing and be fed through prayer, His word and especially the sacraments. How fitting I write this on the day we celebrate Corpus Christi, the feast of the body and blood of Christ.

Time, a little energy, and a healthy dose of grace are all it take to nurture and bear fruit.

My mouth is watering just thinking about eating a saskatoon berry pie.

Digging roots

Last weekend I had the pleasure of digging out some shrubs—roots and all.

This is our second spring in this house. Last year was the "let everything grow to see what previous owners planted and take some time to decide if we like it or not" year. We decided we didn't like most, well, any, of the random selection of bushes along the side of the house.

Step number one in turning that area of the yard into something we want and like is getting rid of the stuff we don't want and like. And that meant digging out the bushes. Because I don't want these bushes to sucker and creep-up again, I needed to get the roots out.

While I was digging, I was reminded of the similarities between bushes and sin. I know, it's obvious.

More specifically, I thought of the roots. I ran across three main kinds of roots as I dug. There were the shallow, not-too-hard-to-remove kind—my favourite. It was apparent the moisture and nutrients in the soil weren't abundant in that particular area.

These roots are like the little venial sins in our lives. They have become part of us, but a little work, a little love, a little forgiveness and we can readily get rid of them.

The second type of root is a bit harder to get rid of, the ones that aren't very deep but run long. They have obviously been fed over the years, but not as well as maybe they should have been. They have learned to spread to where the moisture and nutrients are.

Our bad habits, those sins that have become part of us, are like this type of root. We don't always focus on them, or maybe we aren't always aware of them, but they have found a way to grow over the years and become a part of us. Thankfully, some prayerful examination and a little penance is usually adequate to deal with these sins.

The third type of root became my nemesis—the deep tap root. That main root that gets fed, becomes deep and an integral part of the plant. It is strong because it's a central part of the plant, and it runs deep to ensure the plant gets fed when surface moisture disappears.

The vice that we struggle with is like this type of root. We know it's there, and we even feed it with our sin. We don't like to, but we do it anyway. It's hard to get rid of, and more often than not we'll spend a lifetime trying to rid ourselves of this sin. You know those one or two (or more) sins you confess every single time you seek the sacrament of reconciliation? That's the tap root of sin.

I got rid of all the bushes—roots and all. I had the right tools, the will and perseverance, and I was willing to put in the work to make a clean slate for our landscaping that area.

We can get rid of our sin with the right tools (prayer, examining our conscience, God's forgiveness, the sacraments), the will to turn away from them and perseverance. Oh, and a truckload of grace and forgiveness from the God who is love—Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Next post will be about what we did with that blank slate of yard and how God wants to work with our clean slate. Stay tuned.

No. 3 gets the spotlight for a change

For some reason, the number three doesn't have the best reputation in our western culture. Sure, the third time is the charm (or the point where the need for instant gratification ends and people just stop trying), but consider the following phrases:

• Bad things happen in threes. Good thing this phrase of a somewhat self-fulfilling prophecy didn't originate as "bad things happen by the dozen".
• Three is a crowd. Whoever made this up must be from the prairies where we have limitless space and can easily feel overcrowded.
• Third wheel. Unless your a tricycle, a third wheel is unwelcome.
• Third-born child. According to popular psychology, our third-born children are going to have issues, lots of issues.

And what about the third person of the trinity—the Holy Spirit? God the Father gets 46 books of the Old Testament and lots of mention in the new. Jesus gets 27 books of the New Testament, an entire religion named after Him and measurement of time itself changed around Him. Holy Spirit? A few obscure mentions the disciples didn't understand and one major feast. Yeah, He gets mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles a fair bit, but do we really give Him the credit He deserves?

I first started appreciating the significance of the Holy Spirit in my life and the life of the Church thanks to Pope John Paul II's apostolic letter The Coming of the Third Millennium. If you remember this letter, it laid out a three-year plan to prepare for the Great Jubilee—one year for each person of the trinity. The second year, 1998, was dedicated to the Holy Spirit.

I knew about the Holy Spirit from confirmation, His gifts and fruits. And yes, I truly believe He has dwelt in me and guided me since baptism. But this letter and subsequent book of reflections opened my eyes to the real significance of the Holy Spirit in everything we do.

"The Spirit, in fact, makes present in the Church of every time and place the unique Revelation brought by Christ to humanity, making it alive and active in the soul of each individual." (Tertio Millennio Adveniente, 44)

That's just one of several profound statements. What else can I say after a quote like that? Not much, other than let's celebrate Number Three this Sunday, Pentecost Sunday. And let's never stop celebrating the activity He generates in our souls. One thing I do think is worth mentioning about this quote, the use of the word "individual." He didn't say believer, faithful, Christian or anything else that would exclude anyone. The Holy Spirit is active in each individual in a very personal way. How are you going to respond to that activity in your soul?

Come Holy Spirit. Fill the Hearts of the faithful, and enkindle in them the fire of your love.
Send forth your Spirit, and they shall be created. And you shall renew the face of the Earth.

Test drive: Saint of the Day for Kids app

New to Apple's App Store is a great iOS app that will help your kids, and maybe you, learn how important the communion of saints is.

After first hearing about this app created by members of the Saskatoon diocese (that's in Canada, province of Saskatchewan, for those of you who are curious) I did a quick search in the app store for "Saints for kids." I was surprised that 29 apps came up. Wow, a crowded space. Well, not really. There are a bunch of Santa Claus apps, games (some that I have no idea how they appeared with that search criteria), a cooking app,... This is the only one that actually is what it says it is.

An initial 99 cent purchase gives you access to 121 saints and is supported by an ad. An in-app purchase of another 99 cents gets you access to a full year's worth of saints and feast days—that's 365 days of saintly goodness for only two bucks.

The random saint view appears to be a favourite for youngsters. My three-year-old loves the illustrations and is spending a fair amount of time exploring the various saints asking, "Who's this?" She also likes pressing the star, designating the selected saint as a favourite. She has declared St. Joan of Arc as a saint she loves, but was a little disappointed St. Therese wasn't available before making the in-app purchase.

The older kids immediately went for the calendar view, excitedly reading who the saint was for every one's birthday they could remember.

So far, the least popular view is the alphabetical listing, but I'm sure as time goes on it will prove its worth.

The descriptions are written in language perfect for younger children. My six-year-old easily read about Saints James and Philip at prayer time. I welcome the fact I no longer have to translate-on-the-fly while reading saint biographies written for adults. There's also a short prayer accompanying each saint.

You can share each saint via email or Facebook. You can also print the illustrations through an AirPrint-enabled printer to make great colouring sheets for the kids.

I give this app my blessing.

Check out the Saint of the Day for Kids website

Preview the app and check the specs in iTunes

Where's the charity in church pews and parking lots?

Twice a year our churches overflow with worshippers. Our faith family gathers to celebrate two occasions so important they can't be contained within one day, or even the eight (octave) dedicated to them. No, we do it right and celebrate an entire season in which we proclaim the glory of God with exuberance. We sing, pray, share food and are called to take that excitement into the world.

It lasts until we reach the parking lot. All the love and good-will gets sucked out of most people as quickly as the darkness of Mordor overcomes all but the purest of heart because it takes an extra seven minutes to get home.

Washing the feet of others in loving service, we embrace. Letting someone back out of their spot and get one full car length ahead of us? Well, let's not put words into Jesus's mouth and proclaim he meant for charity and service to extend that far.

That is assuming we let our rejoicing reach the parking lot. Instead of praising God for calling all his children home to worship on these most special of occasions (a priest friend reminded me many times there is grace in showing-up; don't be stingy with the grace and mercy of God, He's not) we get frustrated that our regular spot is taken, that people are still responding, "And also with you," and there are so many children with their "NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE*" Bonus points to readers who recognize the quote without looking at the footnote.

Bloggers are abuzz this week talking about noisy children at Mass. Who knew it could be such a polarizing issue? Me. My wife and I have experienced first-hand the scorn of people that don't appreciate sitting near four children.

Oh, we have stories. But first, let me make a few points:

• We sit in the second or third row every week. Have for years. Even when we moved parishes we found a nice comfy spot right in front of the alter so our kids can see what's going on. Call me crazy, but I think it's easier to teach children about something if they can actually see it.
• There are different kinds and levels of noise children make. Babies babble. Kids ask questions and don't always whisper. There's the occasional fight over who sits where or who had what book first. Our three-year-old blurts out, "I have to go pee!" because she seems to have some weird fascination with public washrooms. And, the odd time there is inconsolable crying that requires my wife take me out in respect for people that appreciate having their eardrums intact.
• Kids aren't the only people that make noise during Mass. People clear their throat. The old guy with the hankie honks when he blows his nose. It can sound like drums when people slam their hymnal down. All can be distracting, but are considered "normal" sounds at Mass.
• My children are baptized members of this community and are subject to the same privileges, rights and responsibilities as everyone else. 
• I consider the crying room, or play room, nothing short of a ghetto that segregates vital members of the parish family. I do think a temporary space to take that screaming child is required, and I'm thankful we have one. But how did that noble concept ever gain traction and become incorporated into construction plans? Did the conversation go something like, "Hey, we really need to get more families coming to church. What can we do?" "I know, let's shove them into an isolation chamber and put toys in there so the kids never want to leave!" "We better pump some sound in there on the cheapest Radio Shack speakers we can find so parents feel welcome and connected to the liturgy." "Perfect! And that will help catechise the children and get them used to the idea of living their baptismal call."

Back to the stories. Most recently, my wife was given the evil eye by a woman in front of us when our 20-month-old daughter cried. My wife felt extremely uncomfortable, and being a sensitive woman (is that redundant?) she was on the verge of tears.

The very next week, I was reading a Bible story to our three-year-old before Mass, and the woman in front of me (not the same one that glared at my wife) turned to me, rosary in hand, and said, "Do you mind. I'm praying, and your reading is distracting me."

It's not often I'm lost for words, but I didn't know how to respond. Over the next several days I came up with all sorts of witty, yet charitable, zingers. But at that moment all I could muster was, "OK. I understand," and went back to quietly reading to my daughter. The woman left. I assumed she simply relocated, but she returned with reinforcements, who didn't seem at all perturbed by the sight or sound of a father reading Bible stories inside a church.

"Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more." (Rom 5:20)

The same week my wife was scolded, a woman behind us had her arms out while praying the Our Father. Our youngest, now calmed down, took the familiar gesture as an offer to get picked-up and held. The woman graciously obliged, picked her up and held her the rest of Mass.

For every negative encounter, I can recall several positive ones. There are the nuns that sat behind us at our former parish who would make faces and play peek-a-boo with the kids to keep them occupied. There was the couple who hadn't yet been able to see their grandchild born in Australia so cuddled our baby, who was about the same age, during the whole Mass. There are the teenage girls who just love to hold babies. And there are the priests and other parishioners who make a concerted effort to comment "how wonderful your children are" and they are "so happy to see young families at church." And perhaps the sweetest consolation is the fact that more young families with babies have gathered in the front few pews in the past few weeks. Look out cranky people, we're taking over the joint.

We are all members of this wonderful community, this family we call Church. We all bring our idiosyncrasies and isms, our personalities and experiences, and that’s what makes the Church so wonderfully alive and vibrant. I love the readings from the Acts of the Apostles during the Easter season that drive home the importance of community, togetherness and unity among followers of Christ (cf Acts 4:32).

Our God is a kind God, and He wants us to exhibit the same kindness. He is a loving God, and He wants us to embrace and share that love. He is a big God who can't be bound by the artificial limits we place on His love and mercy because of our own preconceived notions of where and how to practice virtue—and that even includes parking lots and church pews.

Join the converstation. I'd love to hear your stories.


* The Grinch Who Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss

Winning against the odds

Canadian Football League multiple-record holder, four-time Grey Cup champion and Canadian football  Hall of Famer Mike "Pinball" Clemens brought all the energy you would expect form a guy nicknamed Pinball to inspire the crowd at the annual Saskatoon Prayer Breakfast this morning.

Growing up the what he called "every stereotype you can imagine of the projects or the 'hood," Clemons had to deal with adversity right from the start. "Adversity is guaranteed. It's how you deal with it that makes the difference," he said.

Since he was eight, Clemons was told he was too small to play football. Instead of running away from adversity, he ran toward it and embraced the gifts and talents God had given him to overcome adversity.

"They said you're not big enough. Ran to it. They said you're not smart enough. Ran to it. They said you're from the wrong neighbourhood. Ran to it."

Acknowledging the tragedies in Boston and West, Texas this past week, Clemons highlighted how everyday people, particularly police officers and fire firefighters, ran to adversity to overcome the odds and save lives.

Involving and exciting the crowd during the whole address, Clemons explained he needed to find his "suweeeeet-spoooot" to win against the odds.

"Football means a lot to me. Family more. God the most."

Clemons explained, "I came to the humble conclusion that the substance of what I did, all I did was run with a piece of leather for a few miles. And it took me 12 years to do it! If you want to know who I am, I'm the husband of Diane, my wife. I live to serve her. That's my sweet-spot. I couldn't have done any of that stuff by myself. As much as I love my wife, it is Christ in me that taught me how to love. Christ in me told me it doesn't matter how big I am. I'm just bringing all I have to the party."

By bringing all he has to the party, Clemons has learned to win against the the odds that seemed to be stacked against him. More importantly, he has learned a relationship with Jesus not only makes that possible, it makes it a fun and interesting ride.

Learn more about Mike "Pinball" Clemons and his career

Support the Mike Pinball Clemons Foundation (MPCF) dedicated to helping disadvantaged youth.

Overwhelmed

A racing mind, accelerated heartbeat, shortness of breath, feeling paralyzed to do much of anything...

The psychological and physiological symptoms are very real and highly variable when we get overwhelmed. The pressures of balancing work and family life, personal struggles, health issues, challenges or trials our friends or family members are encountering, the collective struggles of our community, nation or the world can easily overwhelm us and create anxiety.

The past couple weeks have been a little stressful. I have seen a particularly heavy workload at work that has added to the already heightened anxiety of looming cutbacks at the university for which I work. Home and auto repair bills seem to coming fast and furious—like the unexpected oven repair. It's tax season. Everyone has extreme cabin fever (or maybe it's seasonal anxiety disorder) because my spring flowers are still under a six-foot pile of snow in my front yard. And the horrors in the news, particularly the Gosnell trial, break my heart and prompt a big fat "WHY?"

Each of us deal with the anxiety in different ways, some more healthy than others. I prefer to bottle it up  until it explodes all over someone close to me. Well, I don't prefer to do that, but that seems to be the unfortunate default more often than not. I prefer to hash things out with the Big Guy through prayer. A quick flash prayer of "Jesus, Mary, Joseph help me" is very therapeutic.

Ideally, prayer therapy leads to a different kind of being overwhelmed—being overwhelmed by the unfathomable love and mercy of God.

Easter is the season that helps us re-focus on that overwhelming love. I couldn't help being overwhelmed by Jesus's ultimate expression of love when venerating the cross on Good Friday. The joy was overwhelming us we proclaimed "Alleluia" Easter Sunday. God's infinite mercy overwhelmed me celebrating Divine Mercy Sunday.

Just like biblical encounters with the risen Christ overwhelmed those who experienced Him, we need to allow our encounters with Jesus—both the grand and the simple—to overwhelm us.

Whenever I pause long enough to accept the love and mercy offered, there is a physiological change in me. Instead of those anxious symptoms, God's overwhelming love has the opposite effect—it calms the mind, it soothes the heart, it offers peace. And ultimately, that love drives us to act and share it with others so they too may experience the wonderful gift offered to all.

Next time life, or the news, or anything else overwhelms us to the point we feel like the weight of the world is on our shoulders, let's shift our thinking to let the Good News overwhelm us like a tidal wave and be encompassed by the saving love of God.

Does God forgive that too?

It was one of those conversations that I can't remember the context, how it started, or how it ended, but one line said by the other remains with me: the God I believe in doesn't let sex offenders and pedophiles into Heaven.

As a parent—or a human being for that matter—I want to agree with him; anyone who would prey on the most vulnerable and do them harm deserves punishment. We demand justice. God demands justice. And justice doesn't include eternal bliss.

If justice is the only standard, who would measure up? On the continuum of sin, at what point does an action deny a person admission past the pearly gates?

Since God's justice is perfect, the answers are no one and no where respectively. The blemish, no matter how small, is unacceptable for one to be in God's presence.

There has to be another way or everything we believe about God's promises, His covenants, His death and resurrection would be meaningless.

Mercy. That one word makes an eternal difference.

Remember those shows—cartoons or the old cliff-hangers—where the hero is trapped and has two doors from which to chose his escape. Behind one door is a tank of snapping alligators, a pit of hungry lions, or a bottomless pit. The other door leads to immediate escape and safety.

Now think of those doors as justice and mercy. Except the doors aren't a mystery; they are clearly labelled. Seems like a pretty obvious choice. Jesus offers us the choice of mercy. His sacrifice allows us to enter Heaven through another door.

God's perfect justice will be served by both the sacrifice of Christ and by our contrition, in this life or in purgatory. Without Jesus the chasm between the door and Heaven is insurmountable. With Him, eternal bliss is ours.

On this Divine Mercy Sunday, let us be mindful that mercy is a free gift for all who choose to accept it. I don't claim to know the mind of God, but I'm going to step out on a limb and venture a guess that includes people who do heinous things but repent and chose the door of Christ's mercy. And if that's a tough pill to swallow, then maybe it's time to rethink your definition of mercy. How attractive is your sin before God?

Jesus I trust in you!
St. Faustina Kowalska, pray for us.
"Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy." (Matthew 5:7)

Clean shouldn't be a dirty word

Whether it's the toy room or your soul, why is cleaning such a chore?

The phrase, "It's time to clean up," isn't well received in our house. The kids' reaction can be anything from absolute disgust to whining and complaining to pouting and stomping to total denial anything needs to be cleaned, depending on the time, day and phase of the moon.

Almost all our indoor toys are in the basement. We're blessed to have a great playroom for the kids, and we have spent no small effort organizing things to the point that everything has a home. Well, everything until the next load comes at Christmas or on birthdays. Even then, we try to purge and teach the kids the value of moderation and helping those less fortunate. That too is met with varying degrees of success—must be moon phases again. I should really start charting that to see if it's a valid theory.

The fact the playroom is the one-stop shop for toys is a bit of a two-edged sword. Any mess made is generally localized to the basement, theoretically making clean up easier. But, the localized mess is usually very concentrated. My feet pay the price for failing to properly navigating the minefield of Lego, Hot Wheels cars, Lego, Littlest Pet Shop (and LPS Teensies), trains, Lego, animals, play food, Lego and a cornucopia of other small sharp toys waiting to inflict pain, injury and insult.

When we declare it's time to clean up, we're met with one, or a combination of, the aforementioned reactions. Then we act as somewhat of a counselor, helping the kids move through all the stages to acceptance that things will be cleaned.

The first round of cleaning isn't really cleaning. It's more like shoving into piles in corners so if Mom or Dad come down they don't step on things anymore, and if they don't turn on the light or open their eyes, we can convince them it's clean.

Then our role usually shifts for counselor to negotiator. Clean and there's a good chance of something positive happening. Don't clean and your faced with the c-word: consequence.

Sometimes it's quick and relatively pain-free. Most of the time there is much resistance that never leads to anything good, but it eventually gets cleaned.

If, as parents, we can observe the benefits of cleaning—things are easier to find, there is more room to play, no one steps on things and gets hurt, things simply look better—we should be able to see the same benefits of cleaning our souls.

Sin, no matter how small, can build-up into a big mess over time if it's not dealt with. Lego pieces are small, but can inflict a fair bit of damage to feet when stepped on. Sin damages relationships, both with God and with other people.

Shoving sin in a corner so it's out of sight isn't cleaning. It may delay the damage or deflect the damage to a different person, but it doesn't eliminate the mess. And we're fooling ourselves if we think we can hide it from God. So why do we let pride get in the way and think, "If God doesn't turn on the light or open his eyes, He'll think I'm clean and my relationship with Him is A-OK," just because the mess got relocated? We know better when dealing with our children, and we should know better when dealing with our immortal souls.

As we enter Holy Week, let's deal with our mess. If you haven't already had a chance to do so this lent, go to the sacrament of reconciliation—clean up your mess, no matter how small you think it may be. Repair your relationship with God. Let His healing, love and mercy overwhelm you. Accept the gift of the crucifixion and resurrection this Easter with a clean heart and soul.

Postscript: I was just in the basement checking on the latest round of cleaning and overheard my oldest say, "See how quickly this can go when we work together?" Almost brings a tear to my eye or makes me wonder if this is a dream. If it is, don't wake me for a while.

Change of plans

Supper plans changed when my wife discovered the oven wasn't working.

I had planned on spending part of my evening writing a blog post about St. Joseph, since it is his solemn feast tomorrow, but I get to try and fix the oven instead. My instant reaction and feeling was frustration.

We're hosting our annual party in honour of the solemn feast of St. Joseph, husband of Mary, tomorrow, so the fact we are without an oven to get some things ready adds to the frustration.

Of course, anytime tools come out, I have four little helpers hanging around. If I wasn't already a bit frustrated, I'm sure my one-and-a-half-year old leaning over and peaking in the oven or my inquisitive three-year old asking what's wrong would be cute. Oddly enough, not so much tonight.

Score another one for the internet and online do-it-yourself information. It turns out it's a relatively minor repair, and I can easily do it myself. Of course, repair shops aren't open right now for me to pick up a part, so things will have to wait until tomorrow, which might mean more changes of plans if the part isn't in.

How would St. Joseph have responded? Well, first, his oven repairs would have been pretty simple. Do we have wood? Check. Do we have flame? Check. Problem solved.

What we do know about St. Joseph is he handled change pretty well—and he faced some pretty dramatic change. His engagement didn't quite go as planned; he was ready to break-off the engagement. The birth of Mary's son didn't quite go as planned; how to deal with barnyard animals was not part of the pre-natal class. Settling into a nice house after Jesus was born didn't quite go as planned; they didn't head to Egypt to get a good deal on a two-bedroom bungalow.

I think it's pretty safe to say St. Joseph handled all the change in his life with a calm, even head, because of his relationship with God. He understood God's ways are not always our ways. He knew how to listen to God and not let his own proud opinion get in the way. He knew how to obey God because he had faith His love would never fail or lead him astray. He knew how to patiently give love as a husband and father because he knew the love of the Father.

St. Joseph, thank you for being such a great example of humility, obedience and love. Help us deepen our relationship with God the Father, so we too may know His love and be that love to our families.

Happy Feast of St. Joseph!

Passing on a family tradition...Star Wars

Every proud father looks forward with excitement to certain milestones in his son's growth and development: first steps, first words, the first time you throw a football together, the first day of school, and the first time you watch Star Wars together.

I recently finished watching the original Star Wars trilogy (episodes 4-6) with my son. I grew up with Star Wars. I remember watching A New Hope in the small town movie theatre my grandparents owned eight times. When my wife asks, "How many versions of Star Wars do we really need to own?" the answer is obviously, "All of them!"

Needless to say, I was excited to share this special life experience with my son.

But there are some questions a parent must answer before sharing the Star Wars experience. Sure, you need to decide if he is old enough—even though it's relatively benign by today's standards, there are some scenes that can cause nightmares for small kids. My son is six, and I admit it, that's too long to wait. The most fundamental question though, is what episode do you start with?

The obvious answer is Episode IV: A New Hope. If you disagree stop reading, go watch all six episodes in the order they were released, and return realizing the error in your ways, vowing never to repeat said error again.

Here's a valuable public service announcement that covers this and other important questions.


My three-year-old daughter watched with us, not because she was really interested in it, more because the TV was on and, well, you can't not watch the magic box when it is making pretty pictures and cool sounds.

She's always been inquisitive, asking many—too many—questions about everything imaginable. I'm confident the incessant questions and thirst for knowledge will serve her well when she breaks a big story as a journalist or a big case as lawyer, or cures some yet-unknown disease as a scientist, but I can't count the times I said, "Let's use our eyes and ears more than our mouth. Daddy is trying to watch this movie."

Here's but a very small sample of the questions:

• Is that Darf Vader?
• Who are those white guys? (referring to Storm Trooperrs)
• Why are those guys' eyes red? (referring to Jawas)
• Why are they shooting at each other?
• Didn't those white guys died last time?
• What colour is Darf Vader's life saver?
• Are those good guys or bad guys?

My son is more the strong silent type, so it was a little hard to gauge what he thought and if he understood some things. After watching The Empire Strikes Back, he was still pretty stoic. I remember the moment I first learned that Darth Vader was Luke's father—mind blowing! How could it be? I had to ask if he understood what just transpired.

"Did you get what happened at the end when Luke got his hand cut off? Did you hear what Darth Vader said?"

Without missing a beat or changing expression at all, he said, "Yeah, he's Luke's dad."

"What do you think of that?"

"Meh."

He was still excited to watch Return of the Jedi—phew, I didn't lose him. This time my oldest daughter joined in. Despite claiming she didn't care about Star Wars, the lure of the magic box was too strong. She'll never admit liking it—other than "those funny grizzly bear guys" (Ewoks), but she's been drawn in by the power of the force. And now the questions start coming from her, "Why didn't you start with Episode I?" This is when I realized the good ol' parenting stand-by we all said we would never use is a perfectly legitimate response. "Because."

Now I need to introduce the kids to Episode I and (shudder) Jar Jar Binks. I think it's one of those things you just have to tackle head-on. Like ripping off a bandage, do it quick and it won't hurt so much.

Soon, I hope to enjoy another first with my son, standing in line for tickets to the next Star Wars movie.

My lenten diet

I love food!

More accurately, I love it eating food. So, every year, a large part of my lenten sacrifice is decreasing the food intake—no snacks between meals and practice portion control. It's hard for me, and I know God's grace is the only thing that makes this discipline possible.

Inevitably I end up losing weight, which is not a bad thing. After a wee bit of overindulgence celebrating the Christmas season, there are few extra pounds calling my waistline home. OK, I love snacks anytime, but Christmas baking and a long, cold Canadian winter are convenient scapegoats. I've been blessed with a higher metabolism, and I live a relatively healthy lifestyle: exercise somewhat regularly and eat well (thanks in no small part to my wife making sure we have a good balance of food come meal and snack time). But age slows all things, so food tends to more easily find a home around my waist area than it did 10 years ago.

Is it bad to consider lent an annual diet?

It's interesting to note diet can be a noun or a verb. The verb definition means to regulate one's food intake. Regulate can include restricting the intake of things that aren't good for you, and it can also mean adding things that are good for you. Fewer Doritos, more fruit and veggies.

Lent is a season in which we pay particular attention to regulating our activities—a spiritual diet. Focus less on ourselves and our selfish desires and more on God, His love, mercy and grace, and on the needs of others. 

Regulate is a verb, an action word. We are called to do something during this season. The traditional practices of prayer, fasting and alms cover a wealth of possibilities for us to do something.

I think St. Ignatius of Loyola was on to something when he used the phrase spiritual exercises. Prayer is an action that gets your soul in shape.

Fasting is also an action, a discipline that helps us rely on God more than our own physical strength.

Giving of oneself, sharing our God given gifts with others, be they material goods or our time, requires action. It helps us realize all our blessings come from God; we are mere stewards of them during our time here on Earth.

So, my lenten diet is a good thing, not because I end up losing a few pounds like the traditional definition of diet would imply; that's just a side-effect. My diet is a good thing because I'm trying to regulate my spiritual life so my soul is healthy and fit, ready to run the race ( cf. 1 Cor 9:24-27). By the grace of God these practices become habit, and they continue throughout the year.

Now pass the Doritos.