By Kelli Lovell
Natural Family Planning
I grew up as the second oldest child in a family of seven children. As an adult, I am now the mother of seven children. The looks my family got when we all arrived at Mass back in the late 90s are very similar to the looks my family gets now. I hated it in the late 90s. I love it now.
My memory of Sunday mornings when I was a teenager is vivid. In almost every Catholic Church, the front row is the most reliable place to find an open space, especially if your football team-sized family arrives only seconds before the priest processes in. As a teenager, I didn’t dread going to Mass; the tradition was a meaningful, integral part of my Catholic upbringing. What I resented was our weekly parade to the front pew. It seemed the ringing church bells, the opening notes of the organ and everyone standing and looking toward the entrance were designed to draw attention to us rather than the celebrant’s entrance. I wanted to duck under the nearest pew as we made haste to our “VIP” seats. No matter what feeble attempts my teenage self personally made to get our family into the building even five minutes earlier each week, it was not meant to be. In my mortified teenage mind, my family’s entrance into the sanctuary was an opportunity for public judgment which was and still is every teenage girl’s nightmare. My parents, however, kept their heads held high and genuine smiles on their faces. Were they enjoying this!?
Today, the walk into the sanctuary at Good Shepherd (or whatever parish we are lucky enough to find convenient Mass times in) is one of my most cherished moments of the week. I don’t mind if people observe us in various stages of wakefulness and dishevelment; I can now see how it was easy for Dad to put a genuine smile on his face. What I perceived as scrutiny as a child, I now assume to be curiosity and wonder. I hear people whisper-counting heads aloud as we pass. We smile at the chuckles as my two-year-old genuflects toward the pew itself and not the tabernacle. Eyes roll as my kids jockey for the preferred seating order that allows them to be out of parental reach. Strangers smile as they hand back various toys dropped behind our pew. Here we are: imperfect, together and in need of grace. Just like the Church.
That large family I grew up in was, and still is, a huge gift to me. When we married, my husband, Wade, and I knew we wanted a large family. There were even two and a half years of trying to have a baby that tested our trust and patience in God’s plan in this regard. Now, as I follow my own little parade entering the sanctuary, I am only aware of God’s amazing goodness in this world where so many couples suffer infertility. God’s gift of allowing us, as a couple, the amazing ability to procreate with Him to give life to each individual eternal soul humbles me. It also impacts our decision-making when the opportunity to bring another child into this world arises. Our decision to have this many kids was intentional and possible thanks to God’s divine design for fertility and the gift of scientific Natural Family Planning. Do I expect every Catholic couple to have this many children? Absolutely not. Do I think the lifestyle we have chosen would be right for everyone? No. Does the outward sign of my gratefulness for these children give glory to God? I hope so.
We are not perfect. Our little domestic church, called to be a light of God’s love in the world, likely does not immediately inspire profound faith and love for Christ. Watching my three youngest fighting over a book or pretending Kleenex doesn’t exist can be cause for annoyance or disgust (it is for me). The feeling of exhaustion at the end of Mass that normally would accompany running a marathon is probably obvious on my face. But I also hear the quiet laugh when the mention of Hospitality Sunday donuts causes a domino effect of joyful faces to glance in my direction. I cherish the comments of adults who approach us after Mass with a kind comment about my children’s behavior, loosely defined as “good” in their opinion.
So, I get it now, Mom and Dad. You made having a large family look good, and I hope that I can inspire the same experience of what a gift children are for other young couples and families by entering the sanctuary and embarrassing my own teenagers, one Mass at a time.
Kelli Lovell, PharmD, CACP, CFCP, is a Clinical Pharmacist at Deaconess Hospital in Evansville. She also is a Certified Anticoagulation Care Provider, a Certified FertilityCare Practitioner and a Responsible Practitioner for the Holy Family Center for Life.