Actually there aren't many families depicted in the cartoons we allow our children to watch.
Teletubbies: cute, boucy music, inspires our youngest son to dance. Not a family.
The Wiggles: four grown men who harmonize beautifully singing inane self-written or folk songs, aerobic dancing, and cheesy costumed characters. VERY big with the younger set, but again, not a family.
Stanley: Animal-loving hero with a great big Book of Everything. This one is family based; cartoonist, work-from-home dad and dentist mom who apparently share the household duties and an older brother into music who grudgingly spends time with little brother. Shows a detached sort of parenting that's a bit disturbing. These parents never notice the large bear in Stanley's bed or the horse he's chasing down the street. Shouldn't a parent notice that sort of thing?
Roly Poly Olie: sweet family show. A brother and sister who play together and enjoy spending time with each other. A grandfather and uncle very much involved in their lives. The parents seem to be in love with each other; they say and do the kinds of corny things Bill and I do. They love, play with, and care for the children.
Actually, I'd have to say the Polys are the cartoon family I identify most with us. Of course, they're robots. Hmmmmm......
I'd like to thank everyone at St. Blog's for the kind welcome, warm comments, and links. I look forward to being an active member of the "parish".
In 30-some years on Earth, I've heard many, MANY insults. We're trying to teach our children to be polite and respectful to everyone they meet. I thought you all might like to hear the highest insult our older children use against each other.
"You are NOT what you are."
Delivered in a sing-songy voice, followed by one child running & the other wailing "Mommy!" I'm not sure where the phrase came from or how it came to cause so much pain. However, when you consider our Holy Father has commanded
"Family, become what you are."
that little phrase my children throw at each other may just be the chief insult.
Out of diapers. Again. Off to Wal-Mart. On a Sunday. Yuck. Armed with a short list that will take me the length of the store (why do they do that?) I decide to swing by the toy aisles to see if I can find the stuffed bugs and/or armadillo Dear Daughter has requested for her birthday. Across from the stuffed animal aisle next to all the garden implements is a row of Christmas decorations. In September.
Apparently, the Christmas season runs from right after Labor Day to December 26 for secular retailers. Sometimes I wish there could be holy Catholic communities with Mom & Pop stores following the liturgical calendar and selling things that make it easy for the rest of the community to follow the liturgical calendar as well. I guess if there were such a Catholic community we wouldn't be truly "in the world" as in "be in the world, not of it."
I'm very grateful for my Protestant past simply for the Biblical foundation it gave to me. I memorized many different verses that are recalled at appropriate times. Although chapter and verse, and sometimes book, like the "beautiful feet" of this morning, are lost to me now, the meat of the verse is there for me.
My boss at the Catholic bookstore where I work part-time, a fellow convert, once said to me, "Protestants memorize Scripture; Catholics memorize prayers." She's right - the memorization is about the same, but the material is different.
My husband and I have five children. One is in Heaven praying for us as we raise and homeschool the other four. I hope to include in their memorization Scripture verses that will readily come to their minds at will and, more importantly, in need.
I have often wanted to pray for the Body of Christ after Communion, but I am easily distractible. I tend to critique their behavior, their fashion choices, their parenting skills, etc., and if I leave my eyes closed I tend to focus my prayers on my own needs or am distracted by my own thoughts.
At today's Mass, however, I sat in the front row. While kneeling in prayer I opened my eyes and realized I could see the feet of those who had received the Body and were returning to their seats. Immediately there came to mind a verse I memorized as a child:
How beautiful are the feet of those who bear good news.
I realized that all those feet walking past me bore "Good News" because all those folks had just received the Body of Christ, so I was able to focus on the feet and pray for my fellow parishioners. Whenever I got sidetracked by sparkly nail polish or questionable footwear, the verse circulated again: "How beautiful are the feet..." to keep me on track.
It was very refreshing to pray for all at Mass with me.