The Domestic Monastery

I came across this beautiful article while reading my friend Tracy's blog archives.

Here is a snippet:

" Moreover, the demands of young children also provide her (the mother) with what St. Bernard, one of the great architects of monasticism, called the "monastic bell". All monasteries have a bell. Bernard, in writing his rules for monasticism, told his monks that whenever the monastic bell rang, they were to drop whatever they were doing and go immediately to the particular activity (prayer, meals, work, study, sleep) to which the bell was summoning them... The idea in his mind was that when the bell called, it called you to the next task and you were to respond immediately, not because you want to, but because it's time for that task and time isn't your time, it's God's time. For him, the monastic bell was intended as a discipline to stretch the heart by always taking you beyond your own agenda to God's agenda.
Hence, a mother raising children, perhaps in a more privileged way even than a professional contemplative, is forced, almost against her will, to constantly stretch her heart. For years, while raising children, her time is never her own, her own needs have to be kept in second place, and every time she turns around a hand is reaching out and demanding something. She hears the monastic bell many times during the day and she has to drop things in mid-sentence and respond, not because she wants to, but because it's time for that activity and time isn't her time, but God's time."

Boy, this sums up hard-hitting reality that I fight with every day. My time is not my own. I am called by God to respond to the needs of the moment, to serve with love. My selfishness comes to the surface many times a day when that bell rings (a baby with a nasty nappy, a thirsty toddler, a hungry infant, a injured preschooler) and I don't want to stop what I am doing to respond. But I do, and need to learn to do it without grumbling. For this is what God wants me to do, to hear that bell and respond with a cheerful heart.

Last night I read a beautiful prayer by Mother Theresa, which I had to add to this post:

Sweetest Lord, make me appreciative of the dignity of my high vocation, and its many responsibilities. Never permit me to disgrace it by giving way to coldness, unkindness, or impatience.