(Photo Credit Pascal van de Vendel – Unsplash)
By Holly Gustafson
I have five children, which is a handy number when I’m praying for them – when I say my rosary, I usually start with the oldest and work my way down, dedicating a decade of the rosary for each child. As I’m praying each child’s decade, I’m usually drawing to mind all the fears or concerns I have for them – one Hail Mary for their faith journey, one for their relationships, one for their marks in school, and so on. The intentions for each child are always different, sometimes general and sometimes quite specific, but no matter which one I am praying for, I never run out of motherly worries before I run out of beads.
But one thing I’ve noticed about having five children, most of whom are teenagers, is that just when one knot has been untied, one worry relieved, a new one – completely unexpected, totally unforeseen – pops up. The child who finally has a job is now in a concerning relationship. The child who was is finally doing better in school in suddenly struggling in their friendships. Or the child who used to cause the least amount of worry is now suddenly causing me sleepless nights. It feels sometimes that no matter how hard I pray, no matter how thoroughly I pray those five decades for the intentions of my children, I can never manage to cover all the concerns, never get all the knots untied.
It is with this sense of helplessness and hopelessness that I approached the Blessed Sacrament last Friday. I pulled out my rosary to pray my five decades for my five children as I always do, and felt the weight of the burden of their souls in the beads. What if I can’t get this right? What if I’m not praying for all the things? And why do I even bother praying for anything, when there’s always something new to pray for?
And in that hopelessness, I felt a small reminder that these children of mine – whose journeys have, despite all my prayers and best efforts, consisted of many missteps and stumbles, and certainly will consist of many more – have a Father who knows them much better than me, and somehow even loves them infinitely more than I do. He knows their deepest desires, their darkest corners, and the hardest parts of their hearts; he know what will bring rest and stillness to their restless and roiling souls. I can trust my children’s heavenly Father, infinitely merciful, infinitely loving, to accompany them on the journey, missteps and all.
That day, before the Blessed Sacrament, I tried to pray my rosary with a little less worry and a little less need to control, and a little more surrender, of my own soul, and of the souls of my children. The perfect saint to help me with this is Blessed Charles de Foucauld, a priest and hermit who, while contemplating the final prayer of Jesus – “Father, into Your hands, I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46)” – came up with a beautiful meditation on surrender. “This is the final prayer of our Master and our Beloved,” wrote Blessed Charles. “May it be our prayer, not just in our final moments, but throughout our entire life.”
Blessed Charles’ meditation became known as the Prayer of Abandonment (which you can read here), and I hope he doesn’t mind that I’ve adapted it a bit to help me let go of the worries I have for my children, and to help me to entrust them to God, the Father who knows and loves them infinitely more than me:
Father,
I entrust my family to You; may Your will reign in our lives.
Whatever Your will for us is, I thank you:
I am ready for anything, I accept everything.
As long as Your will is done in our hearts and in our lives, I want nothing more, O Lord.
Into your hands I commend my soul, and the souls of my family;
I offer them to you, My Lord,
with all my heart,
because I love you, Lord,
and so need to give myself,
to surrender my family into your hands,
without reserve,
and with boundless confidence,
for you are their Father.
Blessed Charles de Foucauld’s feast day is December 1st, so his prayer (either my version or the original) makes a great Advent meditation. It was just announced that he will be officially canonized as a saint by Pope Francis in May of 2022.
Blessed Charles de Foucauld, pray for our families!
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Holly Gustafson lives with her husband, James, and their five children, in Regina, where they attend Christ the King Parish. Holly received her Masters in Linguistics at the University of Manitoba, and now pursues her love of language through art, writing, public speaking, and unsolicited grammatical advice. The best advice she ever received was from her spiritual friend, St. Faustina, who told her that when in doubt, “Always ask Love. It advises best.” |
