An Incarnational Naru Hodo Moment

Just now, after noon Mass, my children and I went for a little stroll through the outdoor stations of the cross. As we strolled I stopped to genuflect in front of each station, quietly repeating the traditional prayer "We adore you O Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy cross You have redeemed the world." It is a gorgeous spring day here, blue sky, sunny, warm temperatures, and the daffodils have poked out of the ground, some with swelling buds. As we walked, I thought of The Secret Garden, which my son and I have just finished reading, and how "Magic" (aka God) makes everything come to life, even that which was long given up for dead. We pulled some dead leaves and branches off the emerging daffodils, eager to help life bloom. And each time I genuflected, I had wafts of thoughts of the Incarnation sweep over me. I thought of my significant conversion at the Christmas Eve Midnight Mass of 1991. I thought of Fr. Giussani and his insistence on Christ present with us in the Church. I thought of Jesus' suffering. About a third of the way through, my son began genuflecting along with me, and about three quarters of the way through, my daughter joined in, complete with complaints when my son was talking to her "when she was trying to pray." We arrived at the end where the Resurrection is proclaimed and beyond that where the rejoicing statue of Mary stands. I realized how much of Catholic theology is missed the more one intellectualizes it and the less one just approaches it through the common sense of a lived human life. What does Mary have to do with Christ crucified?! Isn't she detracting from the salvific work of Christ? Um, hello? She was there... she is His mother... she rejoiced at seeing God's plan fulfilled... she has a thing or two to teach us because SHE LIVED IT! My children had collected little beautiful tidbits as we walked: leaves, stones, sticks. We saw a heart shaped rock lodged at one station, and immediately my son picked up a rock and determined to carve a heart shape into it. As we left the stations area we passed the Nativity scene (also a permanent fixture there on campus). My daughter asked, could she go in the gate and give her gifts to baby Jesus? Sure. She went back a few times to give more gifts. My son was not finished carving his rock, but we made a plan to return tomorrow (with a picnic! I was getting hungry). On the way home we talked a lot about whether Jesus would like those gifts. I assured them both He loves them, not because they gave gifts, but because He loves them. But I also assured Him the gifts they gave or are giving truly make Him very happy. My son asked me several times, "Really?" as he wrestled this into his heart. Yes, really. I noticed in their very natural and unprompted actions the same pattern they use in Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. They see what God does, they make it theirs, and they find a way to say thank you. What could be more beautiful. Before we left, my daughter asked my son to make her a little person out of, um, worm castings. (This is a talent of his!) He did, but as he did, she took part of it and squished it flat. He did not like this one bit. I reminded him he was making it as a gift for her, implying that she was free to do with it what she wanted. I told him I understood his frustration though because the creator of something has an intent for his creation, a way he means for it to be, and sometimes the one to whom it is gifted doesn't accept the creator's intent, and wants to do something else with it. And then I went back to thinking about the Incarnation. Are there other models through which I can think about God's plan for my life? Are there other effective ways besides experience for me to learn things? Are there ways I like better sometimes? Yes. I could make all of life an intellectual endeavor and talk about the ideas of things, as comes naturally to me, and forget about the human, incarnational experience. But if I know my Creator, my Redeemer, why can't love simply prompt me to do things the way He likes to do them? Aha! It isn't a matter of "have to" or "it only works this way." It is a matter of "be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God" (Eph. 5:1-2) It is a matter of love drawing a little girl, this little girl, out of isolation into the playground of life, and thereby healing her.