It Smells Like Love

The five bells began to ring. Their sweet notes grew in size as they floated over the snow-covered neighbourhood. A squirrel, more interested in gathering food than hibernating, stopped in its tracks to listen. The voice of the bells seemed to call for the neighbourhood to awaken from its mid-winter slumber.

The morning sunlight struck their eyes with a sharp intensity as they left the church. Shading his eyes with his hand on his brow, Roman searched for his children finding them playing in the freshly-fallen snow. Taking the hand of his wife, Olenka, they began to walk slowly to the family car parked a few blocks away. Roman found it hard to believe that ten years had passed since they first walked out of St. Vladimir’s Church as husband and wife. The time had gone by so quickly. Olenka squeezed his hand telling him that she wanted to look at him. Roman gazed upon her and thought how beautiful she was, even more beautiful than on their wedding day. How can that be, thought Roman. Olenka’s smiling eyes of blue spoke again to Roman of her love for him.

Their children’s laughter broke the embrace of their eyes. Roman called out, “Children, it’s time to go! Baba will be waiting for us!” Hurriedly, they ran to the car. Olenka was busy brushing the snow off little Ivan’s coat and leggings as Roman cleared the snow off the car’s windshield. Andrew, their 9-year-old-boy, got into the car and claimed the seat behind his father. Helena, 7, decided to sit in the middle of the back seat so she could look after little Ivan, something she loved to do. As Olenka closed her door, Andrew asked his father, “Daddy, will Baba have some fresh bread for us?”

“I certainly hope so,” replied Roman.

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The Adventure of Washing Dishes


by Catherine Doherty

What can a person do who tries to love God tremendously?

Everything, from turning the lights off to save electricity to refraining from getting new clothes all the time, to not being picky about food, to going where God calls you.

Once I know God’s will, I am going to try to do it perfectly. My heart swells and I say, “This also, Lord, for love of you.” I know very well its redemptive value.

Here’s another way of putting it: I have empty hands. I consider that I have to bring something to the altar to offer at my next Mass.

What can I bring? I can bring clothing washed with great love, understanding full well that because of my attention, these clothes have redemptive value. I can bring hours of conversation or letters written with attention to details.

It never occurs to me that I can possibly separate anything from love. For example, I will speak of washing dishes. If I have the attitude that this is a beautiful little thing that I can give God, then washing a cup becomes an adventure. Do you get the picture?

Every little thing should be done perfectly, completely connected with God. Otherwise, it ceases to be interesting. It has no sense and no being.

No matter what their job, everyone has to do little things. But for us at Madonna House, doing them with our whole hearts is of the essence of our vocation.

Adapted from Grace in Every Season, (2001), January 10, pp.26-27, available from MH Publications.