Someone referred to our family as “hard core” Catholic when we were at a party this weekend.
Hard core is usually found modifying other choice words, and I’m pretty sure Catholic isn’t one of them. I had to chuckle. Actually, when I started this post, then went back to edit it, my parental controls blocked me. That made me chuckle again.
I couldn’t help but reflect on what makes us worthy of such a description. I don’t sport a mantilla, the girls wear pants, we consider ourselves rather hip. (And now I suppose even contemplating our hipness has knocked us down a few notches.) Henry plays the drums and beat-boxes like a madman. We love Harry Potter and Santa and let the kids dress up as goblins and the like for Halloween.
Okay, we homeschool a Catholic and classical curriculum. But we also gleefully read the Diary of a Wimpy kid. We block out a majority of commercial television and record the Duggars, but we also regularly watch Mythbusters, Dirty Jobs and What Not to Wear. Our favorite family movies are It’s a Wonderful Life and the story of St. Therese of Lisieux, but we can’t get enough of the slapstick mayhem in Home Alone, What’s Up Doc, Nacho Libre and Kicking and Screaming. We love to sing in church, but I also love Lenny Kravitz, Ani DiFranco, Queen and old David Bowie. Go figure.
And yes, we have five children. But that’s only one more than four — and we know many people with four.
After a little more contemplation and some discussion, the only things Richard and I could think of that earned us that moniker are that we pray together (and apart), we still regularly go to church and we try (as much as our imperfect selves can) to teach to our children how to live and love our faith. We try our hardest to help them see this world through the lens of our faith (instead of the opposite), to love one another and to serve — all in the name of Christ. Which hopefully makes our cores not so hard but much more loving.