By Michael Gisondi

An acquaintance from church called, wound up about what her children see on TV and in the media in general. Her anxiety was catchy. What kind of twisted values come from Brittany and Madonna kissing? Or the violence of Freddie versus Jason? What are kids to think of the dark magic of Harry Potter? As parents and church-goers, shouldn't we band together and do something about it?

Driving to work the next day, my mind was still in a tizzy. At a red light, the blare of the car radio further stirred my anxiety. Switching it off, my mind wandered as an image kept coming back to me--my own Mom --would she have needed to make that phone call? No. Her response to the ways of the world took on a different tact.

Growing up in an Italian household provided many strong images. Mom often labored over the stove, her efforts filling the house with rich aromas of homemade bread and tomato sauce, the air dripping and tasting of chunks of pepperoni and sausage. We were always well fed, especially near the holidays.

On certain religious holidays, Mom lit a candle on the corner of her dresser, by a picture of Jesus or Mary, draped with rosary beads. My parents' room became a shrine that invited reverence and quiet. But they were an expression of a powerful faith, one that was often quiet and prayerful. Though formal religious education was a requirement, Mom's repetitious example provided the most light to my spiritual journey.

No. Rather than spend much time in direct battle with the ways of the world, here are three things my mother did do ...

Little examples for little people. Jesus said don't do acts for public display. Much of what my Mom did wasn't apparent until years later. A passing comment by Mrs. Jennings at my confirmation revealed how much comfort Mom's delicious meal provided when her father died. Though Mom had her hands full with her own family, there was always an assortment of friends and visitors seeking her ear. Little acts of kindness were my Mom's second nature.

Pray. My brother and I were full-time boys. Chasing each other with a baseball bat wasn't so unusual, and that's just what I did one afternoon. One morning after we had been at it, I went to the kitchen. My Mom was in the kitchen having her usual cup of coffee. Behind her, the sun shone through the window, creating an ethereal glow around her. She was in prayer. Whether it was the guilt of interrupting or the past day's antics, a mid-course correction to the living room seemed appropriate. But her response to me was a loving one--a warm smile--asking me if I was hungry. Prayer had made her seem Christ-like, wanting to feed the hungry.

Don't over-react. Swinging a bat at your brother may not be the best way to react, and many events in life just aren't handled best by added drama. Somewhere between serving the second helping of eggs and stitching a tear in my baseball uniform came a gentle reminder about what it really means to hit someone's head with a bat. Baseballs have been the only objects of my swings ever since.

Fortunately, my wife also possesses that quality of not over-reacting. Despite our screening, when a seemingly good movie like "Titanic" resorts to steamy scenes, Mary keeps it light and continues her on-going joke with our daughters. "Turn those eyes!" Light talk about exaggerated romance becomes a prelude to eventual conversations with an older child about the over-used sexual implications. In the same way, violent scenes of murderous X-men begins a gentle dialogue. "This isn't realistic, is it?"

In these gentle dialogues shines the qualities of both my Mom and wife being passed along to my daughters. A daughter's desire to donate her outgrown clothes is a reflection of a Mom's Saturday excursion. A child's continual prayers for a family friend diagnosed with a serious disease is a small light beginning to shine. And my older daughter's humorous criticism of a risqué Super Bowl half time scene is a glimmer of a developing moral judgment.

My hope is that my girls will continue to grow as beacons of faith, avoid the traps of worldliness, and be as Jesus encouraged us--like my mother--a light shining for the world.

Copyright © 2004 Michael Gisondi. All rights reserved worldwide.