Toothpicks to heaven
“I’m now seeing local as the Twin Cities and the larger archdiocese.There’s so much more going on archdiocesan wide than just what happens at your parish. And, I think these events can ignite a new flame.” Korie Regan
She came to Minnesota at the invitation of her nt, who had started a non-profit organization led Hope Chest for breast cancer. Korie’s mother d her mother’s sister had died from the disease, so r aunt wanted to help others engaged in the bat. “I moved up here to see what that was about and was thinking of maybe starting one in Austin,” rie said. “But, I met Dan the third day I was here. nd, the rest is history. We fell in love and here we e.” After meeting Dan, she converted to Catholicism, d now Korie has a different and deeper undernding of what the term “local church” means. ving within sight of her parish for the last few years used her to view local as meaning only her own rish. Working with Rediscover: has transformed r thinking. “I’m now seeing local as the Twin Cities and the ger archdiocese,” she said. “There’s so much more ing on archdiocesan wide than just what happens your parish. And, I think these events can ignite a w flame.” Yet, even with all of the volunteer work for Redisver:, she has managed to connect the dots to her wn parish. With strong support from her pastor, ther Bill Deziel, she has helped take the Rediscover: tiative into her own church. She helped form Re-
discover: book clubs in the parish. She even led a group herself. “We got a group together of young moms here in our neighborhood,” she said. “We talked a lot about adapting the things we learned in the [“Rediscover Catholicism”] book to our life as moms. It was so beneficial to hear how other Catholic moms cope and use prayer on a day-to-day basis to get through some of the ups and downs of being a mom, which we all know can be challenging. That was so beneficial and we remained friends. I would love to do another study. It was just a great way for us to escape the house once a week and talk about our faith and help each other out.” Though Korie understands the demands on a young mother’s time, she does not feel that moms should push faith and church involvement to the side. So far, she has resisted that temptation, and plans to keep on doing so. “I think it’s about prioritizing,” she said. “If you don’t prioritize your growth and studying and bettering yourself as far as your faith goes, then it won’t happen. It will be hard to get to that point. So, it’s up [high] on the list for me. In turn, my family benefits from it, I hope. I’m just a better, more patient, understanding, compassionate person that can deal with the busyness and the stress that comes along with being a mom of four.”
When my husband and I road tripped to the Rockies last summer, I tucked a paperback “Trees of North America” field guide in the back seat. I was determined to honor the Western beauty with a scientist’s eye, expressing my wonder through precision — to stare and study, marvel and measure. “Practice is the best way to learn to recognize trees,” the introduction began. “With field experience, the pleasure and satisfaction gained from this fascinating hobby is greatly increased.” So there I was, thumbing through the hard-pine section in the parking lot of our Estes Park, Colo., cabin, counting needle clusters, examining cones and surveying bark. I almost had a match for the Ponderosa pine, whose cones are “tipped with a stiff prickle” and whose scaly bark plates “fit together like REFERENCE jigsaw puzzle pieces,” according to the field guide. POINTS But the trees weren’t nearly tall enough. Hmph. Stumped. Christina The same month I visited a Trappist abbey in Eastern Iowa, where an 84-year-old monk countered CAPECCHI my interview questions with an inquiry of his own: “Now, do you know your trees?” He broke it down for me as we walked: scotch pines have short needles in clusters of two; red pines have long needles in clusters of two; white pines have long clusters of five. In his cloudy eyes and calloused hands, I saw a grateful heart. There was something holy about his knowledge of those trees, toothpicks to heaven. My travel wish list is inspired by notable trees. More than the Golden Gate bridge or the famed wineries, I yearn to see California’s redwoods. The fact that next year’s Catholic press convention will be held in Charlotte, N.C., has me seeing live oaks, their sweeping branches dispensing shade and leisure. But this month I learned of an attraction that For immediately topped my list: a 100-acre forest in reflection Utah called Pando, Latin for “I spread.” What’s unusual about this forest is that it is actually just In what ways have one tree, a male quaking aspen. Above ground, you experienced Pando looks like dense woods, made up of more the Church’s than 40,000 individual trees, but below ground universality when there is a single root system connecting all of you have been them. away from home? Their common origin is verifiable: The branches contain identical genetic markers that indicate they all belong to the first tree. Pando weighs more than 14 million pounds and has long been considered the most massive living organism.
Sharing the same roots When it comes to spirituality, the Catholic Church is the most massive living organism of believers. Like the Trembling Giant, we share the same roots. Above ground, those roots branch out into dioceses and then parishes, clustered in different spots and different angles but informed by identical genetic markers, which is why every Catholic church I’ve entered has a certain familiarity. I discovered this as a kid on family vacations, sunburned and wide eyed, sliding into a new space and finding that I knew all steps. (What a powerful way to demonstrate the centrality of faith to your children, that Mass is not discarded when you hit the road or board a plane.) Of course, each parish has its own personality. Lines that were once drawn by ethnicity now land around an array of distinctions — different songbooks, different styles, shorter homilies, later Mass times. A glance at the parish festival schedule published in these pages summarizes it well: Whether you gravitate toward the beer garden or the quilt raffle, there’s something for everybody when we Catholics socialize. In the end, we’re all asked to be good stewards, like the Trappist monk tending tomatoes below the soaring pines. Fellowship is an expression of stewardship: We take care of each other. Our archdiocese is rooted in a common purpose and sustained by the same Son. We come together, arms outstretched and intertwined, to form a thriving forest. Christina Capecchi is a freelance writer from Inver Grove Heights.
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