Reason number one: His family. 

I absolutely love the family I married into. I gained two sisters, a brother and their spouses along with 3 nephews and 4 nieces. But most of all, the gift of my amazing husband. 
Andy always credits his dad for always putting his family first. Dad’s early years were during The Great Depression, and he knew what it meant to go without. Dad put himself through college and served in the National Guard early years of his marriage. He became a traveling salesman for a tooling company but made sure his travels were local, so he was home every night to be with his family. Andy said Dad always made sure that he and his siblings never went without but would sacrifice his own needs. I see these same qualities exhibited in my husband as well. 

Reason number two: His marriage.

Married almost 67 years, Dad still calls his wife his “bride”. My in-laws have been a tremendous witness of the sacrament of marriage. With my own parents divorcing soon after Andy and I married, our first few years of marriage were difficult. I never had a sense of what a healthy marriage looked like. I thought it was to be filled with non-stop romance, rainbows and sunshine. Yet, my in-laws exemplified its true meaning by their example over the years. As Andy and I sat in their kitchen and family room early Friday morning, as we prepared to catch our flight home, Andy’s parents asked us to join them for daily Mass on the television. It was during the Our Father that I watched Dad slowly get up from his recliner and make his way over to Mom to hold her hand. It brought instant tears to my eyes. As I saw, the real beauty of marriage is found in its simple, humble gesture of holding hands and sweet good night kisses intertwined with faith. 

Reason number three: His faith.

If you ever want to know the Mass schedule of any church in the Diocese of Syracuse, ask my father-in-law. A daily Mass goer, he never allowed an event to interfere with him attending Mass. He definitely is the faith leader of his home. It is not unusual for him to already recite his first rosary of the day by 5:00am, make it to daily Mass and be back at 6:35am—before Mom is even up. He has made sure to include all the Polish Catholic customs into the family life, many of which we have carried on in our own home. We always compare our Pieta Prayer books with each other to see whose looks most worn. He took me to my first Latin Mass and introduced Andy and me to the Three Hail Marys devotion (olrl.org/pray/). 
I have always valued our discussions about the Catholic faith and, once again, I am grateful for his example. Even though Dad has provided many more reasons to appreciate him, I am forever grateful for his acceptance into the Olszewski family and allowing me to experience his love, witness and faith he has shared with many over the years. I have no doubt that my husband will also come to my side one day, years down the road, to hold my hand in both prayer and fidelity, and that our children and their spouses will have the same appreciation of my husband.

The Canticle of Finding Mary
Originally written in August 2019. 

The House with the Marian Statue
For months the house with the for sale sign out front was overgrown with weeds. Most who passed by probably only noticed the overgrowth and most likely attributed it to the reason the house was not selling. Its shambled and unkempt appearance did not help make it a desirable purchase.

Though I saw the overgrowth, what really caught my eye was the Marian statue somewhat displaced in the exterior corner of the house. I looked at the statue every day as I passed by.  My extroverted-self kept trying to convince my introverted-self to go knock on the door, introduce myself and ask if I could have Mary.

The introverted Kelli won out. Though I would like to say I would remain patient to see what happens, I have learned to accept many things in life (kicking and screaming most of the time) to knowing its God’s will; if it was meant to be, it will be. Besides, if I got desperate, I would send my extroverted husband down to see if he could convince the homeowner. He tended to have that charm.
 The Marian statue that I have been eyeing for months that I found on the curbside for the garbage man on my way to church on Sunday, December 17, 2017.

Things Happen When We Least Expect It
Attempting not to pass judgment, I could not understand why such a statue was hidden and ignored. Reminding myself of years earlier, I found a smaller version at a local garden store. Not as beautiful as my neighbor’s statue, my statue was plastic. To keep it weighted, it required sand, pebbles or water to be put in it.

Placing her on upon the stonewall that landscapes our backyard, I could look out and see her when I was cooking or washing dishes. Less than two weeks of getting my statue Mary had blown over the wall and broke in half after a windy storm. Though it was never blessed, I felt I committed a horrendous sacrilege. Wanting another Marian statue, I knew I would need to figure out a better option. Years got ahead of me and my hunt for a Marian statue seemed to appear lower on my “want” list.

Months went by and the cold, bleak December gray arrived along with the shortened days. The house that had the Marian statue was no longer for sale. Neighbors seemed to use the driveway to park their cars. With only seven more days until Christmas, there was no sign of Christmas decorations or holiday cheer.

It was December 17, 2017, the girls and I were late leaving for the Sunday evening Mass. My husband Andy, who was the sacristan for the Mass, already left. Rushing to get to church, I was exceeding my normal speed. As I drove by the house, I noticed the pile of garbage at the end of the driveway. “Girls! Did you see that?” In unison, the girls replied, “No, what is it?” Already thinking my eyes were playing a trick on me, I responded, “It is Mary down by the road in the garbage.” Lauren immediately replied, “Turn around mom. Go get her.” I stopped and put the van in reverse.

How Did I Lift Her?
My prayer was answered. I also finally understood that patience is a virtue. Mary was larger than I expected and most definitely not plastic. She was solid cement. I picked her up and placed her in the van. Already behind schedule, I did not have time to take her home and therefore she would have to come to church with us. Taking a picture of my new treasure, I texted it to Andy and said I was running behind a few minutes, but I just picked up my Christmas gift. Nothing more was needed. I was still in awe. Who could ask for anything else?

When the girls and I got home that evening, I went to get the statue out of the van. I could not get it to budge. The girls had to help me. We struggled with the statue’s weight. I was terrified I would drop her making it the second statue meeting its demise under my care. We were able to get her to the side of the garage where our walkway passes to the back door. For months she greeted us daily upon our departures and arrivals.

Deciding What I Should Do to Clean the Statue Up
Knowing I would clean her up, I was trying to decide whether to donate her to the church or keep her for our yard. The church having two outdoor Marian statues, I decided it was obvious, she was meant to be for my family.

Because it was winter, I would wait to move her. It also gave me some time to decide if I wanted to paint over the existing paint, strip the paint and leave the statue natural or re-paint. The statue had layers of dirt and the paint was peeling. Underneath I could see multiple colors of paint: pink, different shades of blues and gold for the Earth.

When spring arrived and my son came home from college he helped me move the statue to the backyard. Both he and my youngest daughter took turns using my nifty Black and Decker Mouse sander taking off the layers of paint and smoothing out the rough spots. Occasionally using the pressure washer to knock off the stubborn paint layers, my husband decided to use furniture stripper and a wire brush. It helped break up the layered areas. Mary was beginning to look renewed.

Still Deciding…
Summer wore on and we were quickly moving into fall. I could not decide what to do: re-paint her or leave her natural. I realized there was no reason to be in a hurry and I would allow time and the opportunity gazing upon her to make my decision.

Fall and then winter arrived, and I continued gazing upon her. Finally, spring came, and I noticed some areas of her had a light coverage of mildew with a mixture of spring’s dusting of pollen. When I would get a chance I would need to clean the statue and most likely paint her white to show not only her purity, but with the yard colored in greens and browns, the natural color of the statue’s cement did not accentuate a direct focus to Our Lady.

Final Touches
Recently moving the Marian statue to the area I wanted to feature as her placement, I decided most definitely to paint her white. I did not want her blending in with my backyard. Seriously, this is Jesus’ mom, who calls us to her son. She needs not to blend in but stand out.

Thinking back over the months, especially since Lent when I committed to reciting the rosary daily…and sometimes two or three times…I would listen intently to my Rosary app and fell in love with the Memorare, a 15th century Marian prayer. Memorare, Latin for “remember,” evokes Mary to intercede on our behalf as we seek God’s guidance.

With the intensity of my prayers and the purpose of my prayers, it was this prayer that substantiated my first answered prayer in a long time. The more I recited the prayer, the more I appreciated Mary’s guidance along the way too. Though the Rosary helped keep me focused, it was the closing prayer that brought such hope for my prayer intentions.

I also realized her presence during the months has been similar to that of a silent leader. She has helped guide me along, not by yelling out to me or cheering loudly, but as a soft whisper. Sometimes the presence of her being in our yard and me looking up to gaze upon her was just like mothers who watch their children from afar as we dream and pray for their future. She too heard my sighs, my weeps and my joys. It was only fitting to top off her new look with some flowers to honor her and esoterically celebrate her welcome to our humbled home. 

Memorare
Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession, was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto you, O Virgin of virgins, my Mother. To you do I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy, hear and answer me. Amen.
 

 

Fresh Ink
by Kelli Olszewski

One of my favorite Lenten devotionals is Stations of the Cross. This is odd because when I was a young child, I dreaded Lent especially Stations of the Cross every Saturday morning for CCD. I was also guilty of “borrowing” from my rice bowl too often to buy the candy I was to “give up.” 
    
Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the centuries’ old devotion. Being a former parishioner of St. James the Greater in Concord, a Redemptorist’s parish, the religious order’s mission is to spread the devotion of Our Lady of Perpetual Help (OLPH). This means besides the weekly OLPH novena and Mass, they include many other ways to share about Mary. From the moment I heard Mary’s Way of the Cross, years ago, it was Mary’s words that resonated with my interior disposition. 
    
Mary’s Way of the Cross, written by a former Redemptorist priest, Richard Furey, journeys with Jesus to Calvary through his mother’s touching account. The imaginary reflections share Mary’s sorrow, inviting the readers to unite in Jesus’s pain and suffering. It is Mary’s surrender that has recaptured my heart this Lent as I have my own copy of the stations. It is Mary’s silent anguish that is preparing my mothering heartstrings in attempts to let go. My husband, my daughters, and I are days away from saying good-bye to our son, my oldest child. 
    
Andrew is joining the Navy. He is fulfilling his dream, one that he has contemplated since his middle school years and revisited during his junior year of college. He has spent the last two years both mentally and physically preparing for his naval career. Though my eyes dwell with immense heartache preparing to say good-bye, it is nowhere close to the agony that Mary faced. As she continued to witness the horrendous atrocities against her son and endure his pain and suffering with silent tears, I can learn from her surrender. She, who said yes, her fiat to St. Gabriel to bear our Savior so selflessly; I, sharing with Mary in our motherhood—by her example, she reveals God’s grace and receptivity of His will. It will be both Mary’s example of humility and her yes, that help guide me in the coming years through moments of weeping and rejoicing. 

O Jesus, 
I surrender myself to you, 
take care of everything! 
From the Surrender Novena

The Pieta (1498-1449) sculpture by Michelangelo.  This famous work of art depicts the body of Jesus on the lap of his mother Mary after the Crucifixion.

Resolutions
by Kelli Olszewski

… as in New Year’s resolutions. It is a new year which means new you. Adiós 2021! Hola 2022! 
However you wish to embrace it or fight it, 2022 has arrived.

The world of marketing convinces us that we need to change. And the reality of it is we do, but do our changes reflect the millions and millions of dollars spent on marketing and advertising campaigns that tell us not only what to change, but how to do it?

As we always spend the last few days of the year: spending hours in return lines at the stores, eating leftovers and too much desserts, we see everyone’s “year in review” and we realize we need to “make changes” for the impending new year. Do we spend enough time discerning and praying what we need to change? I know time gets ahead of me and I forget. 

​As I was at the gym (prior to the new year), there were approximately 20 television screens above the treadmills, ellipticals, stair climbers, and rowing machines. As every advertisement came on one of the screens it was for a diet, athletic wear or at-home exercise equipment.
The last time I made a New Year’s resolution was in 2011. Though God took me on a different path and redirected his plans for me, I completed my 2011 resolution eight years later – completing my master’s degree. I didn’t receive the degree I originally wanted to get (Masters in English Literature), God redirected how he wanted to use me – in ministry.  

I do not recall most of my previous resolutions. Worse yet, I am more than certain I never accomplished any of my resolutions. After doing some research I found out a few things about resolutions and how they came to be. ​Unfortunately, only eight percent of people accomplish their New Year’s resolution and 80% give up by mid-February. Yes, I have failed many times over the years.
Resolutions date back over 4,000 years to the Babylonians. They would celebrate their annual New Year aligned with their agricultural planting season during their pagan festival Akitu. 

Their celebration included crowning a king and making promises to re-pay their debts. 
If they succeeded, they believed the gods would show favor upon them.

A similar custom is also noted under the Roman Empire during the reign of Julius Caesar. Honoring the two-faced god, Janus, of which our Julian calendar and month of January derives from, they would make sacrifices and promises to the deity. For early Christians it became a traditional custom to reflect on one’s mistakes during the past year “resolving” to make positive changes for the coming year. 

​Regardless of its religious roots, New Year’s resolutions are now considered to be a secularized custom primarily focused on self-improvement. This made me think of previous years of attempting a resolution. They were more superficial in nature: losing weight to “look better” instead of focusing more on healthier living with better food choices and increased activity.  

As I grew in my relationship with Jesus, I realized my better option for self-improvement is during Lent, a six-week period to increase and deepen one’s spiritual life by focusing on Jesus. Prayer becomes a huge aspect of that desired change and sacrifice made. I have had more success making spiritual changes that far exceed society’s definition of “self-improvement”.

Though many aim to quit smoking, quit drinking, find a new job or lose weight, they are by far very important lifestyle changes, ones that still impact a person interiorly for his or her betterment. The whole point of the “resolution” is to resolve a problem or break bad habits, but they can be about developing good habits too. By developing good habits we become more virtuous, especially as it relates to developing and increasing our spiritual practices. The more we retain virtue the more holy we become which puts us on a remarkable journey to becoming a saint. If I ever attempt a New Year’s resolution again, I know I cannot do it without the support of my faith and prayer. In the fabulous words of G.K. Chesterton, “The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year, but rather that we should have a new soul.” 

So I will see you around March 2, Ash Wednesday, as we begin our 2022 Lenten journey together.   

Food Stains, Candle Wax and the Traditions Learned from a Purple Book
by Kelli Olszewski

​As I spent the first day of Advent preparing dinner using up the rest of our Thanksgiving leftovers by making Turkey Cranberry sliders, along with a homemade apple pie, I reflected on my family’s journey over the years through Advent. The weekend after Thanksgiving, usually the first weekend of Advent, is a huge weekend for our family. We reserve the weekend not for the world of Black Friday shopping, but one that tends to lead to a simple period of family time together. We kickoff our Advent season by decorating. I credit the season of Advent to developing my family’s love for tradition and family prayer. Of course, it involves the green wreath and purple and pink candles, but a little booklet that seemed to be the glue to our yearly Advent season.

​It is mostly known as the “purple book” and bears its age with little children scribbles, long-past bacteria laden food stains and dripped candle wax. It has evidence of being stapled three times and the corner pages folded with the edges discolored. We have been using this Advent book, given to us by the priests of St. James, since 2002. We are on our fourth wreath and each year I think I will purchase a new one or attempt to buy something more elaborate. I have made some with bows and used votive candles (which can be difficult to find in purple and pink). I also recall the years that little hands could not help but touch the candles which led to broken candles, sometimes having to "skip" a week of lighting since we lacked a candle or two. The box we keep it in, a recycled Lenox Holiday china set box, has a special place in our garage that is easily accessible and set apart from the rest of the Christmas decorations.

​Over the years the “purple book” has served as reading tool for each of our children as they began reading, and yes painstakingly moments that seemed to take 30 minutes to get through a simple paragraph prayer for a hungry, tired family. But we persevered and that involvement encouraged them to be a part of our family prayer. Rotating who read also included who helped light or extinguish the candle/s. We even have a special “Advent lighter.” Everyone plays a role – we have learned since it could cause dinner discord and possibly thrown food from a disgruntled child.

​​Over time, with the prayer for each week changing, the kids have memorized the prayers. If misread, it is not uncommon to be corrected on the misspoken or missed word. One year we attempted to use another Advent prayer source, but the Advent book “disappeared” shortly into the Advent season and the “purple book” reappeared.

​Knowing how it has impacted our family, I wanted to share the same gift to others. Each of our families in our faith formation program will receive a copy.  It is also available as a pdf at the link below.

Advent Booklet PDF


May your days this Advent be filled with hope, peace, joy and love as we bring Christ’s light to an often dark world!

Season of the Butterfly Migration
by Kelli Olszewski

Years ago, over a decade, when the kids were small and we were on one of our yearly vacations to Hilton Head, it was a week of more rain than sun. After two and a half days stuck inside a 525 square foot condo with three young children, at the first sight of the evening sun emerging from the clouds, the kids and I were out the door! As my husband offered to make dinner, I sat on the observation deck watching the kids run off some built-up energy. I was fortunate to strike up a wonderful conversation with an older couple from Ohio who were regular vacationers to Hilton Head too. As one of my girls chased after a butterfly, they informed me if I ever have the chance to visit in late September to early October to do so to see the migration of the butterflies. They said it was a marvelous sight. Though I never doubted them, I thought it was a far-off reality.

Last year, celebrating our 24th wedding anniversary and first time away from the kids, we headed to Hilton Head for the weekend. After an early morning bike ride on the beach and sitting on the same observation deck 12 years later, I encountered that far-off dream: the migration of the butterflies. The flutter of butterflies everywhere was tranquil. As I watched them dancing from bush to bush and listened to the waves in the foreground, it was such an inviting moment to escape into a peaceful bliss and yet remember a moment of squealing children who delighted in discovery during our beach vacations.  
  
As peaceful as it is watching, the soft but sharp pain in the back of my throat appeared along with a few droplets of tears of momentary melancholy mixed with nostalgia as I recall a season from yesteryear; one filled with three young children who filled and captivated many moments of my day with life lessons, exhaustion and yet so much joy and love. Just like these butterflies who are experiencing a season in their own journey, my husband and I too have reached a new season in our marriage to enjoy the gift of each other as almost empty nesters and rediscovering the beauty of our life together in ordinary moments.

Arriving at St. Therese for the second time, just in a different role, I find myself being reintroduced to the world of parish ministry and religious education, one that is both familiar and yet refreshingly new. I am older and wiser and in a different phase of life as a catechetical leader. Maybe some of you too have changed jobs, become empty nesters or sent your youngest little one off to kindergarten. Whichever season we are in, it is an opportunity to redirect ourselves, especially in our faith. During a recent parish ministry leadership meeting, inspirational speaker, Fr. Tom McCarthy, said, “Our life is a journey. When we stop moving, things go wrong. Always journey in the presence of the Lord.” His words resonated. As I thought of the fluttering butterflies taking moments to rest, they truly never remained in one spot.

As St. Therese embarks on its 75th Anniversary, its rich history of growth and change echoes Fr. Tom’s wise words. The parish is never stagnant, always journeying in the presence of the Lord.

To the parish of St. Therese: many blessings—and much movement —on the next 75 years.
 
There is an appointed time for everything,
and a time for every affair under the heavens.
A time to give birth, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant…
I recognized that there is nothing better than to rejoice
and to do well during life. 
Moreover, that all can eat and drink and enjoy
the good of all their toil—this is a gift of God.  
—Ecclesiastes 3: 1-2; 12-13