From a Mother's Heart

Labor Day has come and gone, and with it the long days of summer. School supplies are already well in use, routines are finding their rhythm, and family life has shifted into the steady pace of another academic year. I find myself grateful for the fresh start September brings, yet still a little wistful at how quickly another summer slipped away.

Labor Day is often thought of as the “unofficial end of summer,” marked by cookouts or one last trip to the lake. But more deeply, it gives us a chance to pause and reflect on the gift of work — both the kind that provides for our families and the hidden, everyday work that sustains them.

Packing lunches, washing baseball uniforms, sounding out spelling words at the kitchen table, keeping the peace between siblings — these ordinary labors of love can feel unending and unnoticed. Yet Christ Himself spent years in the hidden life of Nazareth, sanctifying the daily tasks of home and workshop. Our family work, too, carries dignity. It is part of how we share in God’s ongoing creation and care for one another.

The Church reminds us that work is not simply about earning a wage; it is a participation in God’s plan and a path toward holiness. Pope St. John Paul II wrote that through work we discover fulfillment as human beings. I see this truth not only in the ways my husband and I earn a living serving the Church, but also in how our children are learning to contribute. Whether it’s gardening, setting the table, sweeping the floor, or helping with laundry, they are discovering, little by little, that work is not a burden but a gift when done in love.

This transition in season has reminded me of those whose work is more physically demanding than mine, or whose labor is undervalued. Many families struggle with wages that cannot meet basic needs, or parents working multiple jobs just to make ends meet. Others carry the stress of unemployment or unsafe working conditions. Still others suffer the effects of trauma in the workplace. The recent tragedy at Annunciation School in Minneapolis is a painful reminder that teachers, staff, students, and families have experienced violence in the very place where learning and community should flourish. As Catholics, we are called to stand with all who labor under such burdens, to advocate for justice and safety, and to pray for healing and peace.

As the school year continues to settles in, I want to carry gratitude into this season — for the gift of meaningful, mission-driven work, for the chance to shape my home with love, and for the example I am entrusted to set for my children about what it means to labor with dignity. Whether we earn a paycheck or not, our daily work matters to God. Joined to Christ, even the smallest tasks are holy.

May we all remember that in our labor — seen and unseen — we honor both God and one another. And may we remain in prayerful solidarity with all who have suffered in their workplaces, especially the Annunciation School community.

Independence Day is often marked with parades, fireworks, lake vacations, and family barbecues. These are good and joyful traditions, and this year, my family looks forward to celebrating at the home of my in-laws in southern Minnesota. But as a mother striving to raise children in the Catholic faith, I pray my kids will grow to someday see beyond the red, white, and blue to the deeper meaning of this holiday — one that touches the soul of our nation and our mission as American Catholics.

Our country’s founders, with all their human imperfections, recognized a profound truth: that our rights come not from governments, but from God. As stated in the Declaration of Independence, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights…” Those words resonate with our belief in the dignity of every human person, made in the image and likeness of God (CCC 1700).

As Catholics, we are called to stand for truth, justice, and the moral law, even when it is difficult. This nation was founded on the hope of freedom — not just political freedom, but freedom rightly ordered toward the good. Pope Saint John Paul II reminded us that freedom is not the right to do whatever we want, but the liberty to do what we ought. That distinction matters, especially today.

This Independence Day, I give thanks for many freedoms: to worship openly, to raise my children in the faith, and to speak the truth without fear of persecution. I continue to pray for this nation, especially as these freedoms are increasingly challenged or misunderstood. As a mother, I sometimes worry about the world my children are inheriting — but I also trust in God’s providence and in the enduring strength of truth.
Patriotism, rightly understood, is a virtue. Love of country does not mean blind allegiance, but a commitment to helping our nation grow in justice, compassion, and holiness. It means speaking out for the unborn, the poor, the elderly, the immigrant, and for the dignity of marriage and family life. It means forming our children to be faithful Catholics and responsible citizens.

May our celebrations this July 4 be joyful, but also prayerful. May we teach our children that true independence is found in surrender to God’s will — and that our nation’s hope lies not just in strong institutions, but in holy families.

May God bless you, the Diocese of Crookston, and this nation we call home.

For as long as I can remember, spring has been my favorite season. So much excitement fills the air when another Northland winter is over. Students and educators at all levels can see that there is an end to the school year. Families begin planning for summer camps and summer vacations. We celebrate First Communions, Confirmations, and Graduations. Increasing sunlight means the days become longer and brighter.

Springtime equates to new life and new hope. (See Song of Songs 2:11-14)
 
I would be remiss if I didn’t also mention that while basking in springtime excitement, we honor and seek the intercession of our Blessed Mother in a special way all through May. As a Church, we have done this since at least the 13th century, paying homage to Mary for the new life and new hope she brought to the world in Christ’s Incarnation.
 
It is fitting that we lift up motherhood in May with Mother’s Day, recognizing the invaluable contributions of mothers, grandmothers, Godmothers, aunts, and spiritual mothers of all kinds. However, this annual celebration can also be challenging for those who have lost their mothers or their children, those who are struggling to conceive, or those who have difficult mother-child relationships.  
 
As a mother myself, I can attest to the joyful and sorrowful parts of motherhood, as well as the temptation to concede to feelings of overwhelm, overstimulation, and exhaustion arising from a flurry of springtime events and expectations that I am chief cheerleader, summer activities director, and milestone party planner for my children and others. Consolation has come for me, though, when I have meditated on the infancy narratives of Christ. The depths of Mary’s interior understanding of what she has been entrusted with are revealed in her reflective and receptive posture; she avoids anxiety and treasures humbly in her heart that she is set apart by God for a unique mission not entrusted to another. 
 
May we do the same here in northwest Minnesota. Without fear and anxiety, may we reflect on the great mission God has called us to in forming and equipping missionary disciples after Christ’s most Sacred Heart. With abundant hope may we offer our peace-filled prayers and daily fiats, no matter the season.