The other day, we watched Schindler’s List and the quote, “He who saves one life, saves the world eventually,” struck home. That’s the mission each of us has now, to save the world eventually by each day we offer now.
I know we all miss the Eucharist and the ordinariness of community, but ours is not the bleakest of times. It is merely the time we’ve been given in which to live out the Gospel.
What a time we’ve been given! This time spent with those dearest to us a reminder, that we were not made for work alone, but for love alone. This time removed from the busyness of the outside, is when God can be heard whispering to our hearts.
Right now, I think the Lord is saying, “Be still and know I am here.” We are to be still, so that our families will know God is here.
To the extent we allow it, we have been given thus far, two months of Sundays. This is how we must view each day in which we have the gift of being with each other during hours we’d normally be apart. Keeping Sunday in the day, when all the days blur together is difficult. I know it’s tempting to allow work to pour into every minute from before dawn to long after dusk, because it makes us feel useful, in a time when things seem so out of control, but it is in these times, that stopping the time to be present becomes all the more necessary.
How is the question. Begin by creating a routine that incorporates prayer into the day. Prayer helps reorient the purpose of the day from getting through it, to living it out. Start the day with listening to the readings in the morning at breakfast, or having the daily Mass in the background before everyone really gets started on Zoom meetings and writing papers or doing online work.
Consider organizing a regular afternoon walk saying the rosary, or the three o’clock chaplet. Make sure the evening meal is family style so that the day has stopping points, even if a person’s work or homework demands time after dinner. Use the time at dinner to practice gratitude, and to encourage each member of your family to think of something that happened this day for which they can give thanks. The Eucharist means Thanksgiving, and thus when we express gratitude, we are imitating the graces and virtues of that singular Heavenly feast.
Saving each life of those we love means more than simply surviving, it means thriving. Growing the interior life of each soul as we weather this forced cloistered existence, is part of making sure when we emerge from this secluded time, we are poorer in spirit, but richer in Christ. “God is among in the pots and pans,” as St. Teresa of Avila said, and God is in the tiniest details, so use those moments whenever they present themselves, to reveal your love for these people you love. Those tiny details include hugs and phone calls and letters, walks and games and books and chores, jokes, snacks, and music.
These moments, if suffused with presence, will be what our children remember, not the constant anxiety of wondering how long will we be home, but the warmth of this time itself. The goal is to help our families live life in a way so they find the richness of being with their family is a pearl of great price, by living these moments with much love.
When we’re finally able to go back out into the world, we will discover we’ve given our families and the world a sense of what home is supposed to be, what the domestic Church is supposed to be; a home of the Eucharist, a tabernacle brimming with love, and a place where they always have a seat at the table, and a sense of safety and peace. We will have allowed this time to be a time not only when God knocked on our hearts, but our hearts threw open the door.
(Sherry Antonetti writes a regular column for the Catholic Standard. She is the author of The Book of Helen, a freelancer and a blogger @Chocolate For Your Brain!)
