Molly Sabourin

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Go forth in peace!

Go forth in peace!

Posted by on Jul 24, 2012 in Reflections | 7 comments

We hit the Porter County Fair this past weekend. Once again, it was everything our children hoped it would be: loud, vibrant, sweaty, waffle cone scented. First we headed for the animals. There were cows, of course, goats, horses, a litter of rascally nursing piglets and rabbits so bizarrely fluffy they had us laughing out loud. At the 4-H display, we ogled homemade evening gowns, exquisitely decorated cakes, Lego creations, scrapbook pages and a ginormous latch hooked Jesus. There were more exhibits I was hoping to browse through but the kids were anxious to keep on moving. The fair was bursting with new things to stare at, taste and touch (thank goodness for hand sanitizer).

By five pm, we’d attended a magic show during which Mary was chosen to assist with a trick involving toilet paper, participated in a wiggle car race,  ran into school friends and soccer friends, and stuffed ourselves with greasy offerings from a few of the endless food booths. Finally, now that our tummies were good and churning, it was time for the bestest part of all:  bumper cars, roller coasters, The Tea Cups, The Carousel, The Fun Slide, The Scrambler, oh my! Earlier in the week, I’d  purchased discount wristband vouchers from the YMCA enabling the kids to ride all the rides they wanted as many times as they wanted while Troy and I held their water bottles and gawked at the proudly displayed body tattoos of fellow fairgoers.

  My sun burnt sons and daughters were having an all-American small town blast!  It made me happy to see them squealing with delight. “Again, again!” They’d yell immediately upon exiting the gate of any and every ride they’d just been on. Two hours passed quickly and the sun was starting to set signaling a new vibe at the fair, one that brought with it hordes of teenage girls in impractical sequined tops and platform wedges, and just as many skinny jeaned boys to nonchalantly chase after them. It was getting crowded, Troy and I were just about all fair-ed out. “Pick your last ride,” We told the kids.


They were deciding between 101 Knots and The Spider when suddenly from behind us we heard an ear piercing “POP, POP, POP!”  I, and everyone else, flinched.  In the aftermath of the violence in Colorado, the worst was easily assumed. I was relieved to jerk my head around and find only the residual smoke of recently launched fireworks, but also frustrated by my gut wrenching impulse to grab my children and take cover.  What a messed up world we’re stuck in, it becomes tempting to think when being randomly gunned down in public becomes a real possibility. It’s getting harder and harder not to surrender completely to the jadedness caused by trying to digest news story after news story of chaos, murder and hatred.

How then should I live? I pondered on the drive home. And, more importantly, How should I teach my children to live? in an age where weapons are easily accessible and frighteningly sophisticated, and the political, religious, and moral divisions among us are becoming ever increasingly heated and intense? “Why, mama, would someone do that?” Asked my oldest daughter, Priscilla, upon being confronted on the radio, the television, the newspaper and internet by the grizzly shootings at the Aurora movie theatre. And I saw fear in her eyes, fear and utter confusion.


Uh-uh, heck no! I decided right then and there anxiety and trepidation would not be even subconsciously propagated by this mother, who is prone to anxiety herself. Thus, I marched us to our icon corner and we prayed for those victims and their family members – we prayed for their healing and the courage to seize each day in front of us, the courage to cast out fear with love. At Divine Liturgy the next morning, we prayed again, as a community, that the whole day would be perfect, holy, peaceful and sinless, for an angel of peace, that we would complete the remaining time of our lives in peace and repentance, and for a Christian ending to our lives: painless, blameless and, yes, you guessed it,  peaceful.  Let us depart in peace! Said our priest during the litany of Thanksgiving.


How then should I live? Here was my answer!


Let us go forth in peace, is the last commandment of the Liturgy, wrote Bishop Kallistos of Diokleia. What does it mean? It means, surely, that the conclusion of the Divine Liturgy is not an end but a beginning. Those words, “Let us go forth in peace,” are not merely a comforting epilogue. They are a call to serve and bear witness. In effect, those words, “Let us go forth in peace,” mean the Liturgy is over, and the liturgy after the Liturgy is about to begin.

This, then, is the aim of the Liturgy: that we should return to the world with the doors of our perceptions cleansed. We should return to the world after the Liturgy, seeing Christ in every human person, especially in those who suffer. In the words of Father Alexander Schmemann, the Christian is the one who wherever he or she looks, everywhere sees Christ and rejoices in him. We are to go out, then, from the Liturgy and see Christ everywhere.

To be boldly at peace and be an instrument of unconditional peace is the message and example I’m actively choosing to pour forth all my efforts into leaving behind for my children. And where can I find such miraculous peace when challenged by evil or selfishness? In the arms of the Church. And how will I preach this peace? Via love, joy, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.


Is there anything on earth more satisfying or rewarding in the long run then obtaining and spreading Christ‘s peace? Uh-uh, heck no! Not money, not respect, not answers, not ease and comfort, not proving someone wrong, not success, not anger, not resentment. And, God willing, despite my numerous flaws and frailties, I will doggedly pursue but this one heavenly ambition all the rest of my days – in faith that God is merciful, confident that nothing else matters, and on guard for those tricky distractions that try to lure me from the perfect simplicity of this holy aim.


If you would be simple-hearted like the apostles, said Elder Leonid of Optima, would not conceal your human shortcomings, would not pretend to be especially pious, if you would walk free from hypocrisy, then that is the path. While it is easy, not everyone can find it or understand it. This path is the shortest way to salvation and attracts the grace of God. Unpretentiousness, guilelessness, frankness of soul – this is what is pleasing to the Lord, Who is lowly of heart. Except ye become like children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of God (Matt. 18:13).


For the sick and the suffering, for the scared and lonely, for the weak and tired, for those who love us and those who hate us, for those who are hungry for the peace and hope we have the power to provide through Christ Jesus (if we’d only put aside our egos and self-centeredness), and for one another, let us ceaselessly pray to the Lord!


Help us, save us, have mercy on us, and keep us, O God, by Thy grace!

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Photo Friday: Brown

Photo Friday: Brown

Posted by on Jul 20, 2012 in Reflections | 8 comments

I adore brown. Brown is more flattering on my pale skin tone than black. Brown is the color of coffee, chocolate and the birthmark on my oldest son’s knee.  Brown is earthy and humble. 

It was rainy and overcast when I took these photos. The cool light gave the browns I chose to capture an unexpected purple-ish quality. I wasn’t sure I liked it at first, me being so naturally drawn to warmer hues and all, but it’s growing on me now, a day later. It’s good to shake things up sometimes artistically.

And now I’m off to hug my babies, count my blessings and pray for mercy in response to the horrific news splashed morosely across my computer’s homepage. Random violence is utterly dumbfounding to me. It shook me awake, that’s for certain. What else can I do in the face of such evil but arm myself with love and gratitude?

May we all be at peace, and be peace to others, this weekend.

Click HERE to participate in the Photo Friday challenge.

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rain at last

Posted by on Jul 19, 2012 in Reflections | 4 comments

The sonic booming rattled our windows. Lightning flashed on and off and on again like a strobe light. And the rain, it came (at last) with an eery violence that kept Troy and me both awake. We’d lost power, of course, so I pulled out my cell phone and typed in, curious as I was to know if a tornado was coming, or the world was ending. “Hey babe,” I whispered, when the website finished loading, “it says here there’s a severe thunder storm warning in effect.”  ”Is that so?,” replied my husband, dryly, over the in your face howling of the wind. And I giggled at myself, for having stated the obvious.

Last night, I felt very small and vulnerable.

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on keeping it simple

Posted by on Jul 17, 2012 in Reflections | 5 comments

The Church is rock solid, our priest told us Sunday – and this despite the frailties and absurdities of we Her members. You know what I am not? Disappointed in your addictions, doubts, impulsiveness, temper, disillusionment, rough edges. There’s something achingly, authentically beautiful to me about human beings fully aware of their own imperfections, broken-heartedness and finiteness being good and gentle to one another – and holding on with all they’ve got to a stubborn belief in a mystical grace and compassion that covers all.

So little makes sense to me outside of the fulfillment born of becoming a Eucharist-fueled healing presence (despite my frailties and absurdities).  You won’t find faith in logic and facts, I told my teenage son the other day. They will only trip you up – leave you distracted and blinded by the peripherals. Keep it simple. Pray for mercy and serve your neighbor, then see what happens. See if Christ can’t override your assumptions, your feelings of unworthiness, your self-obsession, your mental limitations with His peace. He can. He will. 

All the time, all the time, I stray, I forget – forget from whence comes my help and my courage. Then it dawns on me – I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew. I’m overthinking. I’m over analyzing, over planning, over spending. I’m looking ahead. I’m too caught up in my own wants, opinions, time wasting endeavors, to attend vespers on a Saturday evening or read the Scriptures or stand at my icon corner. I’m too busy being anxious and discontent. 

There is Church tonight, Troy told me this morning. It’s our parish’s patronal feast. And my initial reaction was, unfortunately, but not surprisingly, Awww, man. But I’ve got stuff to do, and I’m tired. Yes there is work involved in keeping the main, salvific things, the main thing. I’m in a continuous fight against my comfort and ease loving self. But if I can manage to quiet the excuses and show up, as is, I will be blessed most certainly by a most satisfying sense of rootedness. 

The Church is rock solid. 

Oh praise be to our patient, forgiving, unfathomable, eternal God! 

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What I did on my summer vacation

What I did on my summer vacation

Posted by on Jul 16, 2012 in Reflections | 2 comments


So remember how in my last post I’d made peace with having to go on our trip to Michigan without my camera this year? Well wouldn’t you know it, the camera repair guy called only shortly thereafter and said, “Hey, so I got your Nikon cleaned up earlier than expected.”  And did I renege on that decision to just soak in our summer memories without capturing them digitally?


 I had a brilliant time not sitting around but walking, walking, walking in 78 degree weather amidst a backdrop of beachy frivolity snapping away (click, click, click) at my family members playing, bonding, relaxing. More on that eventually, but today I offer THIS SLIDESHOW of those very vacation photos I’m still treasuring days later. 

Now back to work.

A peaceful Monday to you!

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