by Mary Clifford Morrell

 

Every year, my son and his family travel from North Carolina to spend Christmas and New Year’s with us, and every year my two oldest granddaughters, now 7 and 9 years old, try to stay up till midnight on New Year’s Eve.

This year was the year. As the evening wore on past their bedtime, they were very excited with their plans to stay up until midnight. But as the clock strained toward 9 p.m. the youngest started to wane and asked, “How many more minutes to midnight?”

In the background we could hear the oldest granddaughter continually counting down the minutes on a favorite Christmas gift, an analog watch with a cat on the face.

The entire evening became about time—counting the minutes and hours, changing the days, changing the year, and marking those changes with a celebration. It was a lot for them to take in, but when the ball dropped and it was a new day and new year, they were happy to hear, “bedtime!”

With so much emphasis on time and calendars, the new year is a good opportunity to reinforce lessons about the Church’s liturgical year. Students are familiar with time as it relates to them—going to bed, catching the bus, rehearsals, sports practice and games, birthdays and holidays—but, depending on their age, they are usually not familiar with time as it relates to their Catholic faith.

Children understand the calendars of their lives because they live them. The school year provides a perfect example. Depending on where they live, children are most likely in school from September to June. This calendar may hang on the family refrigerator, but children absorb it because they experience it.

While every Catholic classroom should have a liturgical calendar visible for lessons about the Church’s seasons, the most valuable lessons will be those that students are immersed in—setting out an Advent wreath in the classroom; being involved in decorating the classroom with the changing colors of the Church seasons; honoring the feast days of saints; praying a decade of the Rosary daily during the month of October, engaging in seasonal traditions, like a classroom or parish Jesse Tree; sharing both the penitential and celebratory seasons of the Church year together.

Most important is creating opportunities to take children into church. If this is limited to First Friday Mass, then some additional visits for quiet time in prayer might be added. If they have this opportunity regularly, students will notice the changing colors of the altar cloths or the priests’ vestments, parish Advent wreaths, statues draped in purple during Lent, the white lilies during Easter and the red poinsettias for Christmas, all of which have significance for the Catholic faith.

Many children no longer attend Mass with their families on a regular basis, so visits to church with their school family are important experiences for their spiritual lives.

To increase my own knowledge of the liturgical year, I routinely download the current liturgical calendar from the USCCB website. It can be an invaluable aid for teachers, catechists and parents. 

In addition, “Praying the Scriptures” is an RCL Benziger downloadable, lectionary-based resource designed to support catechists, religion teachers, and parents who lead others in learning and reflecting on the Sunday Scriptures in the classroom and in the home.

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.

 

 

by Mary Clifford Morrell

 

When I was young, Mass was a part of our Sunday ritual—getting up early, no breakfast because there was a fast after midnight before receiving Holy Communion, Sunday go-to-church clothes, and trying to find a parking spot close to the church. I don’t remember a parking lot.

I do remember my dad, snaking his fingers over to mine as I held on to the pew in front of me, and him giving my fingers a playful squeeze without looking at me or changing the expression on his face. It was our little secret.

I also remember him never making us feel rushed to get to Mass on time. He always told me, “As long as you are there for the homily, you’re good.” I grew up thinking the homily was the most important part of the Mass. That would make a few priests smile, for sure.

It wasn’t until I was a young adult, rediscovering my Catholic faith after a lengthy hiatus, that I learned that the Eucharist was the real reason we were at Mass. As an elementary school C.C.D. student, as it was called back then, my formation consisted almost entirely of memorizing questions and answers in the Baltimore Catechism. I don’t remember lessons about Mass, though I know there were questions and answers about it. I guess those were the answers I never memorized well.

Today, our children and those who form them in faith, whether catechists or Catholic school teachers, are fortunate to have resources that are designed to help children more fully understand what they experience as they live their Catholic faith, are written in clear language and are useful to children with various learning styles.

RCL Benziger’s My Mass Book, recommended for children ages six to nine, is such a resource where children can take a visual visit to church and learn about the many interesting items there that might have caught their attention when they went to Mass.  Children will learn to recognize and understand the purpose of such things as the sanctuary light, the tabernacle, the crucifix, the Paschal Candle, the baptismal font and the various items on the altar.

They will learn together the Order of Mass, its prayers, and responses. With delightful illustrations on every page, children learn or review traditional Catholic prayers, the Rosary, an examination of conscience, the sacraments, and begin to understand the liturgical year and the unique colors they see at Mass representing the different liturgical seasons.

There is also an on-line, downloadable PDF version of a wonderfully written Parent Guide with an introduction serving more as an encouraging invitation:

“Helping children to understand and participate in the Mass is one of the most important tasks of Catholic families. It can also be a challenging task. It is our hope that My Mass Book and this accompanying guide will help. We pray that, as you guide the child in your life to know and love God, you, too, will more deeply recognize that you are a beloved member of God’s family. May the Holy Spirit fill your heart and home with the great love, joy, and peace that flows from our communion with Christ and his Body, the Church.”

With the New Year upon us, it would serve our children well to include their spiritual health in our New Year’s resolutions by helping our children, our students, to grow in love and understanding of the Mass.

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.

 

by Mary Clifford Morrell

 

In 1914, five months into WWI, Pope Benedict XV suggested a temporary cease fire to the fighting for the celebration of Christmas. Soldiers in the trenches took heed, though their countries would not make it official. A story on history.com relates: “Starting on Christmas Eve, many German and British troops sang Christmas carols to each other across the lines, and at certain points the Allied soldiers even heard brass bands joining the Germans in their joyous singing.

“At the first light of dawn on Christmas Day, some German soldiers emerged from their trenches and approached the Allied lines across no-man’s-land, calling out ‘Merry Christmas’ in their enemies’ native tongues. At first, the Allied soldiers feared it was a trick, but seeing the Germans unarmed they climbed out of their trenches and shook hands with the enemy soldiers. The men exchanged presents of cigarettes and plum puddings and sang carols and songs. There was even a documented case of soldiers from opposing sides playing a good-natured game of soccer. … During World War I, the soldiers on the Western Front did not expect to celebrate on the battlefield, but even a world war could not destroy the Christmas spirit.”

While more than a century has passed since the Christmas Truce of 1914, and the passing of years has certainly not greatly improved our cultural Christmas, our growing spiritual maturity should enlighten us to the true gift of Christmas demonstrated by soldiers so long ago – our humanity.

God deemed humanity gift enough to be born a child on the first Christmas. During his brief life, during which time he grew in wisdom, age and grace, Jesus taught us how to be human, how to be in relationship with God and others, how to love and create peace in the world.

Jesus was a teacher, the preeminent teacher, and like Jesus, every teacher’s care and concern for their students goes beyond the scope and sequence of a lesson to the heart and soul of the child. Jesus was not just about imparting information, he was concerned about helping others build relationships, with God and with each other. Jesus wanted people to think, to become, to grow along with learning. To accomplish this, Jesus used teaching methods that fostered a process of becoming.

One of the most important methods—Jesus asked questions.

The Gospels record more than 300 questions Jesus asked of those he encountered. He asked questions to start conversations, to engage listeners and establish relationships. Questions allowed those who encountered Jesus to spend time thinking, and then draw their own conclusions. Questions encouraged growth in a faith disciples could make their own.

While reviewing lesson plans in your textbooks, be on the lookout for good questions, or good stories that will lead to good questions. Or try one of Jesus’ questions. One of my favorites is the simple question he asks before his story about the lost sheep (Matt 18: 12, NRSV, Catholic Edition).

“What do you think?”

 

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.

Editorial photo credit: Piranhi / Shutterstock.com

 

by Mary Clifford Morrell

 

Years ago, when serving as a parish catechist for high school students who had missed Confirmation, I was confronted with the reality that this could not be a one-size-fits-all approach. Students were of different ages, from different grade levels, with very different personalities and learning styles, and already possessing some firm opinions, beliefs, and doubts about many things.

After a few sessions together learning about the Holy Spirit and the Spirit’s role in the Sacrament of Confirmation. I was beginning to sense their restlessness, so we went outside to the parish garden where they were told to look for something that could serve as a symbol of their Confirmation, or their understanding of what they learned so far.

One of the students came back into class with a maple leaf. After reflecting on how their object related to their Confirmation, I noticed him drawing a picture of the leaf in a small notebook he always carried with him. Soon, he had transformed the tips of the leaf into flames of red and gold and orange.

When it was his turn to describe his chosen object and it’s meaning to the class, he held up the picture and said, “The Holy Spirit burns away what is old in us and creates something new with what remains.”

Now this, I thought, is the Holy Spirit at work, as I felt myself getting teary eyed. This young man gifted me with a lesson about transformation that I will never forget. Maples leaves will forever have a new meaning for me, as does the image of the Holy Spirit as fire.

The symbols of the Catholic faith are numerous; images that hold the deep meaning of the mysteries of faith. They are also a powerful medium for teaching students, particularly as today’s children are inundated with symbols.

Technology and social media has made them an unmistakable means of communication. Laptops, cell phones, gaming systems, commercials and marketing, use symbols to create immediate understanding on the part of those they are trying to reach.

Helping children and young adults understand the symbols of their Catholic faith, can help them on their life-long journey of faith formation. A good place to start are the symbols of the Holy Spirit, essential for understanding the Sacraments, but also as a way to illuminate the third person in the Holy Trinity.

Among the traditional symbols of the Holy Spirit are the dove, water, anointing with oil, cloud and light, a seal, hand, and finger. Each one of these symbols, explained well in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, unfolds a different element of the nature of the Holy Spirit.

The Christmas season also provides a wonderful opportunity to help children find the religious significance in seasonal symbols which fill up their Christmas experience—the Christmas tree, the evergreen wreath, gifts, candy canes, lights and candles, poinsettias, holly, even the bows and ribbons with which we wrap the gifts have Christian religious implications which, when shared with and discussed with students can help them enjoy a faith-filled celebration of Christmas.

Ask your students what the symbol of a Christmas tree means to them. It’s a great starting point to talk about the gift of love that is Jesus and the gifts of the Wisemen, eternal life represented by evergreen, the shepherd’s staff in red and white stripes, and the twinkling of Christmas lights that remind us of the light of Christ.

Perhaps give your children the opportunity to create their own personal Christmas symbol. It is a gift to teachers when the spiritual depth of children is revealed.

 

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.

 

by Mary Clifford Morrell

 

Several years ago, Pope Francis sent a message to teachers & catechists for the First International Symposium on Catechesis. In it, he described catechists—those who help form children as disciples—as “creative; they search for different means and forms of announcing Christ."

Catechists may serve in religious education programs, or they may be teachers in Catholic school who engage in the work of religious formation. What’s important, said Pope Francis, “is to imitate the style of Jesus, who adapted to the people he had before him in order to make them close to the love of God."

So how is it that educators can adapt to a classroom full of unique individuals with different learning styles? It’s a challenge, to be sure, but possible when we encourage students to be actively involved in learning, not just receptors of information.

There was a time when, as a catechist, I was purposely given a classroom of eighth grade boys, some of whom were known to be a bit unruly. I think the rationale was based on the fact that I had six boys of my own and was familiar with the territory.

We were having a class on the Ten Commandments and things were not going exactly as I had hoped. Some were bored, others were chatting, some were laughing, a few were listening. I knew I had to do something different, or they would go home with no more than a list of rules, rather than principles or ethics by which to live.

We decided on a scenario where the boys were stranded on two different islands. We discussed whether or not there was a need for rules on their respective islands, what would happen without them, and, finally, to decide among themselves on ten rules they would institute within their group. They met in two groups, one for each island, and after some period of discussion, chose two people from each group to write their 10 rules on the board.

This list led to further discussions, in which all the boys participated, about why the lists were different or the same, how they compared to the 10 commandments, and, finally, what rules they should establish in their classroom. Most importantly, they were able to make a comparison between what they wanted for others by establishing their laws, and what God wanted for us when he gave us the 10 Commandments. They began to understand that the commandments encouraged us to know and love God and to respect each other. They were not, as so many consider them, just a list of things people shouldn’t do.

An unexpected outcome from the lesson was a great improvement in classroom behavior. The boys wrote the rules, approved by me, of course, so they were invested in respecting them.

The lesson was successful, I believe, because the boys took ownership in it, it required their input, and an opportunity to share what they believed, without judgement. Listening to children with true interest, helps them connect being treated with respect with being loved, which is a key to religious education.

It also kept them active, moving from one element of the lesson to another, discussing, planning, writing, listening, and in some cases drawing on the board. Illustrations add a lot to any lesson and help children who are visual learners.

This lesson taught me to review prepared lesson and look for opportunities to add other elements that would engage a variety of children who may be auditory, visual or tactile learners. Trust your creativity!

 

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.

 

by Mary Clifford Morrell

 

In the realm of catechesis, helping children prepare for the Christmas season and keeping them engaged in learning can be a challenge. They, like many adults, are caught up in the gifts and decorations, often missing the beauty and meaning of the Catholic faith during this holy time.

Some of the best advice I ever heard as an educator was “know your students,” especially when you are trying to prepare enriching opportunities for them to learn. Take time to discover their interests, their passions, and the knowledge they already have, so you can discover the missing pieces. Building from this foundation is the key to engagement.

When the relationship we are nurturing in children is one with God, the journey of filling in the missing pieces can help keep children engaged in experiencing their faith on a more personal level. What do our children really know about Christmas, from a faith perspective? There are so many bits and pieces of Christmas which could serve as a lesson, I find it helpful to choose one important faith story and offer multiple opportunities to unfold the lesson. My favorite is the Nativity.

Do children understand the significance of the Nativity scene, the place, the characters, the social justice teachings of the Church that have a foundation in the first Christmas? They need the opportunity to share their ideas and knowledge. Classroom discussions at any age take the spotlight off the teacher or catechist and give children the floor. They appreciate having that chance.

Begin your Nativity lesson with the story of St. Francis of Assisi, who is said to have created the first manger scene in 1223 in the little Italian town of Greccio. St. Francis had a deep desire to nurture a love of Jesus in the hearts of the people, so he brought the Nativity to life, in a sense, by preparing an outside manger, complete with hay, an ox and a donkey. It was here that Christmas midnight Mass was celebrated. The saint understood that immersing those present in an experience of the Nativity would impress the image of the birth of Christ into their hearts, especially those who could not read and would have no opportunity to study the Bible.

Encourage families to establish a tradition of reading together during Advent and Christmas, which provides time for questions and conversations about the meaning of Christmas, about waiting for the Lord with an open heart, about the Nativity and Incarnation, about giving and not just receiving.

In a recent conversation about Christmas reading with a diocesan superintendent of schools, she shared her belief that “books that share the Nativity story can help us see that the decorations, the tree, and even the presents can only truly be about Christmas if they help us appreciate the gift of love God sent to the world on the very first Christmas Day.”

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.

by Mary Clifford Morrell

 

As we approach the great feast of Christmas, meant to be a time of great joy and peace of heart, it is easy to find ourselves harried with unbridled busyness and overwhelmed at the prospect of meeting holiday expectations, or facing this season of good cheer all alone.

 

I didn’t notice it so much when I was a child, when my most memorable experience was joyful expectation of what gifts Christmas would bring. But as a parent of a large family that has grown exponentially throughout the years, I have frequently been at the heart of holiday overload.

 

It wasn’t until I truly embraced the season of Advent, those four weeks set aside for thoughtful, heart-filled preparation for the birth of Jesus, that I discovered a spiritual oasis and the return of that joyful expectation of Emmanuel—God with us.

 

Though I was baptized into the Roman Catholic faith, I have fond memories of Mass in the small Syrian Orthodox church where I sometimes celebrated liturgies with my mother and her side of the family. Chief among those memories are lots of icons, lots of incense and the beautiful sound of hymns and prayers in the Arabic language.

 

In my own childhood church of St. Teresa of Avila, in upstate New York, I remember Advent as purple, in the priests’ vestments and the Advent candle, except, of course, for Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, when the candle lit was rose colored.

 

From the Orthodox Church, I still recall the Nativity Fast—the 40-day, not four-week, period of fasting, almsgiving and preparing body and soul for the feast of the Nativity.

 

We fasted on Wednesdays and Fridays (some say Mondays as well, but I don’t remember that) much the same as Lent and adhered to a mini-fast after midnight on the day before receiving Communion. It was holy preparation for a most holy reality—the incarnation of the Lord.

 

Perhaps that spiritual discipline begun at an early age, and from which, admittedly, I have often fallen away, is one of the reasons I still find Advent to be a blessing, a time when we prepare for Christmas by not planning, not spending, not worrying, by focusing on the love of God and remembering that while we may be alone, we are not abandoned.

 

Because I still have a fondness for the beloved Church of my mother, I often read reflections from my Orthodox brothers and sisters. This one, from Father Marc Dunaway, pastor of St. John Orthodox Cathedral in Alaska, is especially meaningful as we move into Advent: “The usefulness of Advent depends on your perspective of Christmas. If the aim of a ‘holiday season’ is simply to seek cheer in winter through gift exchanges, office parties, and family gatherings, then Advent really has little place. The holiday celebrations can begin as soon as Thanksgiving is over and end in a party on New Year’s Eve.

 

“However, if Christmas Day itself is, first of all, a ‘holy day’ to remember the birth of Jesus Christ as God becoming one of us, then the grandeur and wonder of that singular event summons those who believe to prepare themselves through prayer, fasting, and acts of kindness, so that they might properly esteem and celebrate this day and let it change their lives. This preparation is the ancient purpose of Advent.”

 

Advent as a time of holy preparation of our minds and hearts will help us avoid the secular holiday author Matthew Gallatin describes this way: “Just as the guest of honor walks through the door, it’s all over.”

 

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.

 

by Mary Clifford Morrell

As I was changing the flag that hangs on our front porch, a little voice from across the street exclaimed, “I love your turkey!”

I smiled and waved to my neighbor’s young daughter. She doesn’t realize my faithfulness to putting up a new flag weekly, always seasonal or holy day themed, stems from her dad’s revelation, a few years ago, that she looks for and talks about the various flags. Her favorite is the cartoonish parrot that goes up at some point in the summer. I’m sensing a fondness for birds.

With Thanksgiving around the corner, and Advent and Christmas not far behind, there will be no dearth of flags in the coming months, signaling the seasons and what we hold dear as a family.  Certainly, there is great meaning in the seasons soon upon us, meaning that is deeper than a nod from a fluttering flag.

Though not a religious holiday, I’ve always felt Thanksgiving was the perfect precursor to Advent and Christmas. It struck me deeply one year when our choir rehearsed “Where Your Treasure Is,” based on the Luke 12:34, “Where your treasure is, there also will be your heart.”

It had been a difficult year, and I struggled with the thoughts of the holidays ahead, and the prospect of setting a Thanksgiving table when I was losing a sense of gratitude. Then we sang, “Where your treasure is, there your heart shall be, all that you possess shall never set you free; seek the things that last, come and learn from me; where your treasure is your heart shall be.”

Of course, I choked back tears, but I also remembered something I learned as a teacher of religion. The Hebrew term for gratitude is hakarat hatov, which means, literally, "recognizing the good."  I was reminded that practicing gratitude means recognizing the good that is already ours, and by allowing gratitude to fill our hearts, we make it possible for any moment to be a time of thanksgiving.

A holiday like Thanksgiving, built on gratitude, recognizing the good and the blessings that are ours despite any struggle, or perhaps because of it, is a perfect time to focus on where our true treasure lies—a perfect beginning for Advent, a time of waiting and reflection on the eternal good that became ours on the first Christmas.

This year, let us include “thank you,” among our prayers during the upcoming holy seasons. May we pray it often and sincerely, and be prepared for the transformation.

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.

 

by Mary Clifford Morrell

I’ll admit, I appreciate a good quote, one that stops me in my thinking for a moment and then makes me think more. Good quotes say a lot in a few words, kind of like a good writer.

One of my favorites is attributed to Bernard Baruch, early 20th century financier and political advisor: “Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton asked why.” There you have summed up in nine words the value of curiosity. I’ve wondered whether Isaac Newton was one of those children who were forever asking why.

I think most families have at least one. But given his quiet, reflective nature he may not have asked the question outright but certainly he mulled it ‘round in his head over all things he observed until one day he observed an apple fall from a tree and asked himself why it fell straight to the ground.

The theory of gravity was proposed.

As a child, Newton was influenced by his natural surroundings and his budding skills at construction and using the tools of the trade. Inspired by both and coupled with a lifetime of observation and experimentation, Newton’s curiosity propelled him to change the world around him.

We cannot expect all our children to become an Isaac Newton, but they each have their own creativity and questions and missions in life. Our natural surroundings can serve as a tool in helping us nurture all those parts of our children, by interaction and encouraging their observations and questions.

There is an inherent beauty and mystery in nature that attracts children, even if they can’t put it in words, except to ask why. Certainly, we’ve seen a child look under a rock and “oooh” and “aaah” over scurrying bugs, and ask the questions, “Why do they live under rocks? Where is their home? Why do they look like that? Why do we need bugs?”

Or the child who is fascinated by a microscope, or telescope, who has more why questions about stars in the sky than most of us could answer. Or the child like my granddaughter who, at age nine, has already drawn out her plans for an environmentally sound aquarium—for mermaids.

When my family drove across country from New Jersey to Montana, one of our most memorable experiences was laying on the ground of our campsite and looking up at the sky which was full to the brim with stars, something we never see in our home skies. The ones who were most in awe were the kids—youngsters and teenagers, alike.

In those moments I heard the words of one of my favorite hymns:

For the beauty of the earth, For the glory of the skies,

For the love which from our birth Over and around us lies—

For the wonder of each hour, Of the day and of the night,

Hill and vale, and tree and flow’r,

Sun and moon, and stars of light—

Refrain: Lord of all, to Thee we raise, This our hymn of grateful praise.

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.

by Mary Clifford Morrell

Going out to dinner with our six boys was something our family relished. We couldn’t do it often, given the expense, but often enough for it to take on elements of ritual.

We let the boys order for themselves, and for the most part they ordered what they knew they could finish, and always ordered water to drink because not only was soda frowned upon, it added up on the tab.

During one visit to our favorite restaurant, the waiter got around to son # 3, who framed his order, saying, “I’ll start with….”

The table exploded with laughter before he could identify his appetizer, something no one ever ordered since the meal came with a salad bar. He also ordered soda. His brothers asked him if he came into money and was paying the bill.

We never figured out why he broke with tradition, which for some reason was not enough for him on this day, and ordered more than he should have, but it’s in the family archives.

The concept of enough is a difficult one for young children to grasp, and for older children and teens to accept. It’s also often hard for adults to embrace. We may come to a point where we feel if we had more of something, we would be happier, but that happiness is fleeting as our idea of enough gets broader and deeper.

Embracing the state of “enough” requires an understanding of the difference between needs and wants, and the discipline to at least keep the two balanced.

The truth is if we can get a handle on our own understanding of enough, and what it means as far as our own choices go, it is easier to pass on to our children instead of actively trying to teach it to them.

Many children will outgrow their collections of stuffed animals or blankets when they realize there’s not enough room in the bed for them and their collection. It may be more difficult to make a change when it involves screen time or sweets, antagonizing a sibling, complaining or wanting to have just one more snack. It’s not long before children feel like they are in competition with their friends, who may have more or better than they do. This perceived lack can leave them unhappy and unable to be satisfied with the blessings they do have.

Helping them understand that they have enough, do enough and are enough will go a long way toward their developing a positive mindset as adults.

During my lifetime as a parent, there were honestly many times when there wasn’t enough of something, especially money to pay all the bills. I had to make a conscious choice not to live in a mindset of not enough because it often seemed to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Then my pre-school class taught me something.

We were learning about Johnny Appleseed and decided to use the Johnny Appleseed song as our classroom prayer/song: “The Lord is good to me, and so I thank the Lord, for giving me the things I need, the sun and the rain and the apple seed. The Lord is good to me.”

They sang it, hummed it, drew it throughout the entire school year.

I adopted it for my own, and still sing it to myself when I need reminding about the difference between want and need, and to stay aware of the sun and rain and apple seeds of my life.

Mary Regina Morrell, mother of six and grandmother to nine, is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.