The Gifts of Sons
Two weeks ago, on the day our pastor gave a stirring homily about how receiving Christ physically, believing Christ to be present in the Eucharist defines us as Catholics, my middle son tried to receive communion and was denied. He received 1st Communion only this past May, so the minister didn’t think he was of age. Being in second grade, my son was not about to say to a priest in church in line, “I’m old enough,” so he walked back to the pew and it was then I discovered his face filled with tears. After mass, we went to rectify the situation and I felt moved by the devotion my son felt for the sacrament, how left out he felt by being denied.
One week ago, a missionary came to speak to our parish and as I sat contemplating what we would give and how I would work it out in our budget, my oldest came to me with an instruction. “Take half out of my savings account.”
My little son makes me laugh and always asks us to say prayers at night, calling me to remember even when I’m tired and ready for them to be down and in bed, that this is important, this is why we have these people around.
My unborn son has Down Syndrome and a heart condition. I have been told by complete strangers to “Abort.” on more than one occasion, forcing me to explain “I believe all human life is precious, and that his soul is perfectly whole even if his body needs help.” He has made me speak.
My toddler son reminds me to pray. My middle son reminds me to be gentle and reverent. My oldest reminds me to be generous, and my unborn son reminds me to speak. There is much talk in this world of how much influence a mother has on her son, on the man he will become, on the type of woman he will seek to marry, on how he will emerge as an adult. When men get awards or win contests or competitions and are given a forum, they often say “Thanks Mom.” in tribute to their Mother’s influence.
Little is said about how sons work on the spirit of a mother. However, if we look at Mary, we can see her Son worked on her spirit before she was even conceived. Before He was conceived, She knew Him. Before she knew of her great burden and joy to bear, she knew something of the one she would love as none other. I look at my sons and I know them, and they know me. They’ve seen me when I’ve been joyous over an acceptance letter, when I’ve railed over the discovery of a sippy cup filled with milk that isn’t milk anymore. They’ve celebrated when I’ve presented their favorite dinner and called to me when they’ve felt sick. They’ve also kept me from my greatest temptations for failure, and loved me even when I’ve missed the mark by yelling in the car or saying the wrong thing. For this mother at least, her sons demand that she keep trying harder not to harden her heart or to close off her mind, to love more perfectly as Mary did, and to be more obedient to God’s way, as Mary was. So I’m saying “Thank You” this day, to God and to my husband, for the gift of sons.
p.s. Daughters, don’t worry, I’ll write one about you five later.
Spiritual Hot Cocoa
Sherry Antonetti is a mother of eight children and a freelance writer of humor and family life columns with prior publications in Absolutewrite, the Catholic Standard, Beaumont Enterprise and the Washington Post. She can be reached at 
