I am so excited to share information about some solid, Catholic programs for youth!
Let’s quickly get the bad news out of the way. Not all after-school programs are created equal. I would take that a step further and say that not all after-school programs have business taking place in our Catholic schools and parishes.
Unfortunately, after reading about the Girl Scouts of America and their connection with the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts (WAGGGS), I’d put the Girl Scouts in the category of not belonging in the Catholic school setting. To find out why, read about the organization’s ties to Planned Parenthood and WAGGGS here, here, here, and here. Be sure to read the “Happy, Healthy, Hot” sexual education flier distributed by WAGGGS.
Instead of dwelling on all of that, let’s talk about two great programs geared for Catholic youth!
I hope you will prayerfully consider bringing these two programs to your parish:
Here’s a little history on the publishing company that started the Little Flowers Girls’ Club and the Blue Knights Club for Boys:
In home-schooling, mom – Joan Stromberg – found an abundance of Christian material to integrate into unit studies, yet a notable lack of Catholic material. Using her degree in journalism and history, she decided to bring Mother Cabrini to life in a way that would appeal to children ages 7-12 while teaching them solid American History at the same time. The Glory of America series was then born, through which the values, traditions, and heritage of our Catholic American past can be passed on to our children.
Since then the company continued to grow in its service of the Faith by publishing the club guides and material for the Little Flowers Girls’ Club and the Blue Knights Club for Boys, developed repsectively by Rachel Watkins and Major Dan McGuire. These two product lines are amazing tools for training our children in wholesome Catholic human formation and cultivating in them a life of virtues and authentic Catholic morals.
AWESOME! An authentically Catholic after-school program that any parish could adopt and be proud of!
I’m obviously ecstatic about both the boys’ and girls’ clubs, but I’m especially encouraged to see a girls’ club that celebrates femininity in a fun, age-appropriate after-school program.
Here’s a little on the Little Flowers Girls’ Club:
Little Flowers Girls’ Club® is a Catholic program for girls ages 5 and up based on learning Catholic virtues through the lives of Catholic saints, Scripture and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Developed by a Catholic mom of eleven, Rachel Watkins, and based on Fr. Lasance’s Catholic Girls’ Guide, the Club strives to bring the Catholic faith alive and inspire the girls to become authentic Catholic women.
Each club is run at the local level…there is no national organization, registration or database of groups. If you are looking for a group in your area, please contact your local Catholic parish or Catholic homeschooling support group. If you don’t find one in your area, why not start one? It is easy and you can cater the program to fit your needs.
Nine virtues are included in each of three different wreaths or years of study. A fourth year, studying the gifts of the Spirit is also available. The format of the Clubs is flexible, with groups meeting monthly, bi-monthly or weekly. Badges for the virtues are earned by studying the saint associated with the virtue, memorizing relevant scripture verses and studying the Catechism. The program is flexible enough to use with a variety of age groups. Little Flowers Girls’ Club® has also been successfully implemented in the family. Sashes, aprons, bandanas, t-shirts and other items are extras that add to the experience, but are not necessary to running a successful Club.
The Leader’s Guide for each wreath offers suggestions for running meetings, planning crafts and activities, talks on virtues and other relevant information. The Member’s Guide includes the activities, saints’ biographies, pictures of the saints, and prayers for each girl. Each of the girls in the Club should purchase their own Member’s Guide.
If that’s not exciting enough for you, know that the program has the stamp of approval in Baltimore. “The first two Wreaths of the Little Flowers Girls’ Club program have already received the Imprimatur from the Archdiocese of Baltimore. The rest of the programs and years are now under review from that same archdiocese. The authors, all Catholic moms and dads, bow to the authority of the Magisterium in teaching faith and morals and try to live their lives accordingly.”
How adorable are the sash and flower virtue badges for t
he girls?!
Photo from the Little Flowers Girls’ Club site
Virtue patches
Check out the Blue Knights gear. I don’t know a little boy who wouldn’t want to wear this sweet cape and armor!
Pictures from the Blue Knights Club for Boys site
Year 1 Patch set
Are you interested in bringing these programs to your parish? The websites offer you all of the information you need to get a troop started.
I’m learning all that I can so that I can be a troop leader for a Little Flowers Girls Club troop when Janie turns 5! In the meantime, the website offers information for parents of boys and girls to promote “the growth of virtue in the lives of our children through the teaching of the Faith, authentic human formation, and the values of our history and Catholic heritage.” Love it!
Here is a story of a little social experiment from 2007. It made me reflect on my time living in Spain, the beautiful people that I met there, and what they have to teach us crazy Americans about living.
“In Washington DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, a man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.
After about four minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.
About four minutes later, the violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
At six minutes, a young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At ten minutes, a three-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent – without exception – forced their children to move on quickly.
At forty-five minutes: The musician played continuously. Only six people stopped and listened for a short while. About twenty gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
After one hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people’s priorities.
This experiment raised several questions:
In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made… How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?”
Here’s a video of the footage at Metro Station.
We’re always running from one place to the next. We end up letting the clock rule our days as we move through our often over-scheduled lives. You may think I sound extreme, but I think this fosters what Blessed John Paul II called “the culture of death.” We’re so wrapped up in our own lives, our own goals, that we’re too busy to see or appreciate the beauty and dignity of the people around us.
This made me think about my time studying abroad in Salamanca, Spain during my junior year of college.
Salamanca’s Plaza Mayor. Here are the people, gathered to watch a concert as they eat, drink, and be merry.
When I arrived, I immediately noticed how much faster the Americans walked than the Spaniards. Struck by this, I let my camera record my view as I walked from the Plaza Mayor to my home, and I walked at my usual pace. It was Palm Sunday.
As I rush by, I see the faces of the elderly among the infants and everyone in between. They’re all walking arm in arm, laughing and talking loudly with their wild arms, carrying their palms homeward where they’ll have the midday meal as a family.
“Domingo de Ramos” in Salamanca’s Plaza Mayor (Palm Sunday)
Watching that video makes me sad. Why was I in such a rush anyway? Where was I hoping to go on a Sunday when everything was closed during the siesta hours?
A few months after I took that video, my time in Spain was coming to an end and I was studying for my final exams at the local university. I had become friends with one of the locals from one of my classes–Davíd. After class, I asked him if he needed to make any photocopies for our upcoming exam. He said he did but that he didn’t have time to join me–he had to be somewhere in two hours. Two hours? What’s the rush? There’s plenty that can get done in two hours!
I laughed and told him I had never heard of a Spaniard being in a hurry. I said it would only take him ten minutes to walk home in the small town of Salamanca, so I didn’t understand why he was in such a rush. He said that might be true if he were American. I said I didn’t understand. He said he would inevitably run into all of his friends on our way to the photocopy machine, at the University buildings, and on his way home. I asked him what the big deal was. “Can’t you just say that you’re in a hurry, make your photocopies, and be on your way?”
Here came my lesson on Spanish culture. “No, Catherine, I can’t. It doesn’t work like that here. If I see a friend, I am expected to have a real conversation. You Americans are so strange. You walk right by each other and say, ‘Hey! How’s it going?’ and you don’t even stop or wait for the response. You just keep on going. If I see one of my friends, he or she will expect me to talk with them for more than a minute. Anything less would be rude, and they would be offended. Being in a hurry to get somewhere is no excuse. So, imagine if I run into a lot of my friends, how much time that would mean it would take for me to get home.” I envisioned him exchanging the traditional kisses, having conversations with his friends having churros con chocolate in the café of the University building.
Valor, the best spot for Spanish “hot chocolate” (think the consistency of a melted Hershey’s bar!) and churros.
Man, those Spaniards know how to live.
What Davíd said about us crazy Americans stung for the millisecond before I realized he was completely right. I thought of all of the exchanges exactly like that that I had had with people on campus back in the United States. Walking in front of the Union, on my way to and from class, running into each other off campus… “How’s it going?” was the new “Hi.” I don’t even know how many times someone has asked me how I’m doing or how it’s going, and I give my response to the air as they walk right on by.
So, Davíd went on his way home, and I went to make my photocopies. I continued on with my frenetic pace and arrived at the photocopy machine to find two chatty girls making copies together. Did they not see me? Hello?! Couldn’t they hurry up already? C’mon, ladies! Chop, chop! I have places to go, and people to see…
Wait, no I don’t. This is it. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be as a student studying abroad. Instead of looking at my watch and tapping my foot impatiently, I should be across the hall in the café with my classmates, eating those amazing churros and talking (borderline yelling like an authentic española) while I wait.
No, I reasoned with myself. If I do that, someone else will show up to make photocopies, and I’ll have to wait another half an hour. I better stay in line.
Meanwhile, Davíd was leisurely making his way home, making time for all of the people he would see and the conversations he would have. He built in time for these things. He didn’t see them as delays or inconveniences–they were welcome intermissions that he welcomed and looked forward to. He probably even stopped at a café on his way home to have some tapas and a cerveza. (After all, it’s not polite to eat on the run in Spain. I learned this the morning I walked to class as I ate a banana. As my host mother told me, the proper thing to do is sit down to enjoy the meal.)
I was the typical American, and Davíd was the typical Spaniard. I was living to work. He was working to live.
Davíd and his friends would have heard Joshua Bell playing that violin at Metro Station and probably would have stopped to listen. I probably would have walked right past in my rush to make my train.
Here is a story of a little social experiment from 2007. It made me reflect on my time living in Spain, the beautiful people that I met there, and what they have to teach us crazy Americans about living.
“In Washington DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, a man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.
After about four minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.
About four minutes later, the violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
At six minutes, a young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At ten minutes, a three-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent – without exception – forced their children to move on quickly.
At forty-five minutes: The musician played continuously. Only six people stopped and listened for a short while. About twenty gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
After one hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people’s priorities.
This experiment raised several questions:
In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made… How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?”
Here’s a video of the footage at Metro Station.
We’re always running from one place to the next. We end up letting the clock rule our days as we move through our often over-scheduled lives. You may think I sound extreme, but I think this fosters what Blessed John Paul II called “the culture of death.” We’re so wrapped up in our own lives, our own goals, that we’re too busy to see or appreciate the beauty and dignity of the people around us.
This made me think about my time studying abroad in Salamanca, Spain during my junior year of college.
Salamanca’s Plaza Mayor. Here are the people, gathered to watch a concert as they eat, drink, and be merry.
When I arrived, I immediately noticed how much faster the Americans walked than the Spaniards. Struck by this, I let my camera record my view as I walked from the Plaza Mayor to my home, and I walked at my usual pace. It was Palm Sunday.
As I rush by, I see the faces of the elderly among the infants and everyone in between. They’re all walking arm in arm, laughing and talking loudly with their wild arms, carrying their palms homeward where they’ll have the midday meal as a family.
“Domingo de Ramos” in Salamanca’s Plaza Mayor (Palm Sunday)
Watching that video makes me sad. Why was I in such a rush anyway? Where was I hoping to go on a Sunday when everything was closed during the siesta hours?
A few months after I took that video, my time in Spain was coming to an end and I was studying for my final exams at the local university. I had become friends with one of the locals from one of my classes–Davíd. After class, I asked him if he needed to make any photocopies for our upcoming exam. He said he did but that he didn’t have time to join me–he had to be somewhere in two hours. Two hours? What’s the rush? There’s plenty that can get done in two hours!
I laughed and told him I had never heard of a Spaniard being in a hurry. I said it would only take him ten minutes to walk home in the small town of Salamanca, so I didn’t understand why he was in such a rush. He said that might be true if he were American. I said I didn’t understand. He said he would inevitably run into all of his friends on our way to the photocopy machine, at the University buildings, and on his way home. I asked him what the big deal was. “Can’t you just say that you’re in a hurry, make your photocopies, and be on your way?”
Here came my lesson on Spanish culture. “No, Catherine, I can’t. It doesn’t work like that here. If I see a friend, I am expected to have a real conversation. You Americans are so strange. You walk right by each other and say, ‘Hey! How’s it going?’ and you don’t even stop or wait for the response. You just keep on going. If I see one of my friends, he or she will expect me to talk with them for more than a minute. Anything less would be rude, and they would be offended. Being in a hurry to get somewhere is no excuse. So, imagine if I run into a lot of my friends, how much time that would mean it would take for me to get home.” I envisioned him exchanging the traditional kisses, having conversations with his friends having churros con chocolate in
the café of the University building.
Valor, the best spot for Spanish “hot chocolate” (think the consistency of a melted Hershey’s bar!) and churros.
Man, those Spaniards know how to live.
What Davíd said about us crazy Americans stung for the millisecond before I realized he was completely right. I thought of all of the exchanges exactly like that that I had had with people on campus back in the United States. Walking in front of the Union, on my way to and from class, running into each other off campus… “How’s it going?” was the new “Hi.” I don’t even know how many times someone has asked me how I’m doing or how it’s going, and I give my response to the air as they walk right on by.
So, Davíd went on his way home, and I went to make my photocopies. I continued on with my frenetic pace and arrived at the photocopy machine to find two chatty girls making copies together. Did they not see me? Hello?! Couldn’t they hurry up already? C’mon, ladies! Chop, chop! I have places to go, and people to see…
Wait, no I don’t. This is it. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be as a student studying abroad. Instead of looking at my watch and tapping my foot impatiently, I should be across the hall in the café with my classmates, eating those amazing churros and talking (borderline yelling like an authentic española) while I wait.
No, I reasoned with myself. If I do that, someone else will show up to make photocopies, and I’ll have to wait another half an hour. I better stay in line.
Meanwhile, Davíd was leisurely making his way home, making time for all of the people he would see and the conversations he would have. He built in time for these things. He didn’t see them as delays or inconveniences–they were welcome intermissions that he welcomed and looked forward to. He probably even stopped at a café on his way home to have some tapas and a cerveza. (After all, it’s not polite to eat on the run in Spain. I learned this the morning I walked to class as I ate a banana. As my host mother told me, the proper thing to do is sit down to enjoy the meal.)
I was the typical American, and Davíd was the typical Spaniard. I was living to work. He was working to live.
Davíd and his friends would have heard Joshua Bell playing that violin at Metro Station and probably would have stopped to listen. I probably would have walked right past in my rush to make my train.
Picking up Monty’s toys that she dumped all over the floor
Talking and eating books
Giving Mom the stink eye when I told her she had to clean up the Play Doh.
The kids’ rooms — doors closed because it’s naptime. Yessssssss!
Whites
Colors
Happy dog during naptime
The mailman comes at the same time everyday. I love knowing these patterns since I’m at home.
Prayer time. My days never go as well without it.
Making Jane’s “Happy Birthday” sign for her birthday party.
Afternoon snack time
Feeding Walt
Playing with Monty
Janie the Dragon “reading” to Walt
Recent Milestones/Developments/Victories/Funny Things: Walt moves himself around on his belly in full circles and is starting to army crawl.
Jane got a ladybug nightlight for Christmas. It freaks her out in her room, but she likes to keep it in the nursery. Every time I change Walt’s diaper, she insists on following me into the nursery where she can play with her ladybug nightlight. “Mama, ladybug hold you.” (Translation: Mama, I want to hold the ladybug.) I turn on the ladybug nightlight to her favorite color (blue), she says “lights on” (translation: turn the bedroom lights off), I turn the lights off, and Jane says “wow” when she sees the blue stars on the ceiling. A few seconds later, she starts singing her version of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
We didn’t eat out once this week! We stuck to my menu, made nutritious meals, and only ate leftovers twice.
Jane and Monty are bonding over Monty’s “puppy prozac.” Monty has had to take medicine everyday since we got rid of Larry for his separation anxiety. He won’t take it unless we hide it in chunky peanut butter. I say, “Jane, want to give Monty his medicine?” Jane bolts to the pantry where we keep the peanut butter, digs a spoon out of the drawer, and I stick the pill into the dollop of peanut butter. Monty comes running when he hears his pill bottle shake. Janie giggles as she gets to hold out the spoon for Monty to eat off of. I’m still working on getting her to stand still as she extends the spoon. She doesn’t understand that running after Monty freaks him out.
We tried playing with PlayDoh for the first time this week. I consider it a victory that it took Jane five minutes before temptation got the best of her and she tried a bite. Fortunately, she didn’t like the taste.
To convince Jane to leave a beloved stuffed animal in the car when we’re running errands, we say, “Janie, Teddy has to take a nap. He’s tired.” Then we tuck him into her carseat. “Night night, Teddy.” She blows the stuffed animal a kiss, and we get to run errands without fear of losing the friend.
Walt may not be mobile, but he has quick hands! He started swiping things away from us this week. He’s stolen toys from Jane, chewies from Monty, and swiped my phone from me.
Despite waking up a full hour or hour and a half earlier since transitioning to her daybed, Jane took a solid 1 1/2 – 2 hour nap every single day this week! This is a huge improvement from the 10 minute naps she was taking last week. I thought I was going to lose my mind.
Jane is a singing machine. Current favorites include “The Alphabet Song,” “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” “Baa Baa Black Sleep,” and anything that Barney sings.
A very pregnant squirrel shows up on our deck everyday after lunch. Janie and I stick a NutriGrain Bar on the deck rail where we can see it from the kitchen window. Jane looks forward to seeing “silly squirrel” everyday after lunch.
Favorite Quotes of the Week: Jane, on Philip. “Dada work. Dada doctor. Dada help people.”
Jane threw a muffin on the floor at lunch. Me: Jane, no no. We don’t throw food. What do you say? Jane: Sorry, Muffin.
Me: I love you, Jane. Jane: I love you more.
When Jane wants to be held. “Mama, hold you!”
From the kitchen table. Me: Wow, Jane! You’re a good eater! Mommy is sooooo proud of you! It makes me happy when you are a good eater! Five minutes later, while I am eating my breakfast. Jane: Mama, Janie so proudda you!
Upon seeing Monty’s accident by the back door, Jane had her first complete sentence.“Monty, you are so gross!”
I wrote a few weeks ago about our struggles to get through Mass with two children under two. Since then, a friend who is a mother of four shared a story.
An older man came up to her one day after Mass and commended her for bringing her young children. He told her that they belong there. Unless they are truly being disruptive, they belong in there and need to learn that they belong in the church. The noise is always loudest in your pew, and you’re always going to notice it more than everyone else.
Of course I teared up when I heard the story. What’s not to love about an older man telling a young mom that she’s doing a good job and that her children belong in the church during Mass? She said that the experience forever changed her perspective, and it changed mine.
She said if we’re going to say that we’re pro-life, the babies belong with us in church, not relegated to some crying room. She said that unless the child is distracting others, the child stays in the pew. Once they are disruptive, they are promptly removed from the church and have to endure a time-out in the narthex. Once they calm down, they are allowed back in.
We were doing it all wrong. Jane was “playing us.” Nobody wants to admit that their toddler is outsmarting them, but my friend was right. Jane knew that she got to run around in the narthex if she got squirmy in our arms and whined in church. I think I knew this on some level, and I told my friend that. I was just falling into the easy trap of getting lazy with discipline when it involves my own embarrassment. So, if Jane was going to embarrass me with a temper tantrum in church, it was much easier to end it by letting her run around the narthex. I sure as heck didn’t want to endure the screaming, snotty scene during consecration under the scrutiny of everyone in the congregation. Taking the easy way out was teaching Jane that she could manipulate us to get what she wanted, and it only made the problem worse.
Kids are smart. We’re dumb. They think. “OH! So, let me get this straight. I freak out in public. Mom and Dad panic. I get what I want. I gotta keep doing this.” Just look at these toddler girls. They know how to work it, and so did Jane at church.
Well, we’re onto you, Jane! It’s a new regime at Mass for the Boucher family. We’ve been allowing Jane to play with her “Busy Bible” and other religious books and walk between us in the pew. We bring a sippy cup full of water if she needs it, too. Aside from the water, we have a no food rule in church. Philip no longer allows Jane to struggle in his arms without a consequence. When she starts to throw a tantrum, Philip quickly removes her from church and she has a time-out on a rug in the narthex. It’s no longer a fun playing ground. The narthex is the new punishment center.
After two weeks of this, Jane is learning that she gets to see and do more inside of the church. Outside, she has to sit in one spot and have a time-out. Inside, she gets to watch the priest, sing, pray, shake peoples’ hands, move around the pew (sit, stand, kneel), read her Busy Bible, and retrieve Walt’s binkie. Inside of church is way more fun than the narthex now!
We continue to sit in the front pew whenever possible, so the less than perfect moments are still very humbling. Jane is making great strides, and we just might be able to get through an entire Mass without one of us leaving with her once.
Lesson learned: Listen to good advice from friends, especially when it’s the tough love variety. The hard advice is hard because it means we’re doing something wrong. Who wants to admit that they’re doing something wrong? That’s hard, and it takes practice. That’s what Christian charity’s all about, after all–fraternal correction in a spirit of love. Thank goodness for good friends who tell us when we’re doing it all wrong! The sooner we admit that they’re right, the sooner we can get on with making things better.
