Blessed Is She - Made New: 52 Devotions for Catholic Women

by Nell OLeary

Set aside the myth that your value as a woman is contingent upon what you do, how you accomplish, or how you perform. Instead, accept this invitation from the Lord to fully embrace your identity and worth as being made in His image and likeness. You are utterly beheld in His loving gaze.

We walk through eleven stories from my life, eleven unique stages from early childhood through adolescence to mature adulthood, which are paired with illuminating scripture passages. We encourage you to open your Bible and follow along. Take time with the questions and let them sit inside your heart.

WEEK 1
MY WORTH AS A CHILD

Childhood

E xtended family dinners at our dining room table all sounded the same. Dishes clanged up against the glass cups close to one another as we filled out the tables added leaves. The dining room was situated in a quiet, dark side of the house facing the driveway with one long, lone, locked window. Adults talked about everything under the sun, embracing that old adage that children are to be seen and not heard, and we complied.

Meanwhile, my aunts and uncles opened their voices over politics, religion, you name it. My grandfathers oxygen tank tube for his emphysema whipped around as he gestured wildly. My mom stepped in and out of the kitchen through the swinging door to check on dessert. My dad cleared his throat as his in-laws waged verbal war upon one another.

I knew we were not present in the conversation, we five kids. We didnt have a place to agree or disagree, even as we aged. We only had a place of silence.

My parents divorced when I was seven, and meals around the dining room table were replaced with stacks of all five kids papers, my moms own schoolwork, and place mats that needed to be wiped down from microwaved fettuccine Alfredo splatter.

I have thought a lot about what it meant to be welcomed as a child. The unique identity of being made in Gods image and likeness. The space a child holds in a family, a family as boisterous as mine. The belonging of the lonely child, the welcome of the sad one.

I thought I was a good and welcomed child based on my behavior. That my being loved by God was dependent on how quietly I could dangle my legs off those brocade chairs, how I could enjoy yams without enough brown sugar, no complaints. I thought God was handing out a behavior grade, and His approval of me depended on earning an A.

It took years to unravel this narrative that children were meant to be neither seen nor heard based on the premise that there wasnt much to see or hear in kids. We were to be well-behaved, a good reflection on our upbringing, and not an embarrassment to our parents.

Now, maybe that dining room table had a lot more wiggle room than I remember. But you probably have your own version of this from childhood: an instance when your lovability was reduced to the number of your years, your lack of sophistication, or an assumption that you had nothing to offer. It could have come in the form of an unpleasant teacher or a challenging stepparent who would have preferred you werent around.