“Dysfunctional Family” was the buzz word in the ’80’s to describe your family but never the family next to yours.

It was that somehow your family did not meet the expected assembly of what we firmly call, “Family.” For me, it was watching TV’s “Father Knows Best.” Robert Young arrives home after a day’s work and his three loving children run up to greet him in the living room along with, his loving wife, Jane Wyatt. He takes off his sport coat with patches on the elbows and Jane gives him a sweater with patches on the elbows. Ahhh, what a family!

Before marriage to my dad, my mother was told of her future brith from an unannounced, unexpected angelic visitor – in her living room! That’s not ture. I was the fourth of five. However, my never-who-ever-spoken-a-word future dad wishes to cancel the wedding until an angelic dream tells him to trust and care for his wife and soon-to-be child. Shepherds angelically called to come to Manitowoc to witness this marvelous birth of events. Single teenage girl bearing child. Mute future-to-be-dad to be married to this teenager. To-be-husband wants to call WalMart to cancel the bridal registry. Shepherds calling AAA figuring where the hell Manitowoc is on the map.

Mother then brings me to the temple where no other than Simeon is praying to see the Savior before he dies. Anna is also present in my family, as my grandmother, She’s constantly praying that things work out differently for this family than it did for hers.

St. Paul says, “Put on.” In other words, clothe your body, mind and heart, “with heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another…[in all of our dysfunctional dysfunctions. And now wearing all that extra divine clothing] put on love, that [which] is the bond of perfection.”

“Dysfunctional family?” The hype of the 80’s was wrong. There is no such thing as a dysfunctional family. There is only family, one family, complete with its own twists and quirks. One novel writes, since my father was a carpenter, I was a carpenter who built, one who constructed and built, of all things, crucifixes.

After the consecration, the priest sings the most important, powerful phrase in the entire Mass. Please, believe me on this. He sings, “The mystery of faith.”

It’s the beautiful mystery of our faith that is never to be solved, otherwise it wouldn’t be a mystery. Our faith and family would remain just a puzzle attempting to piece pieces together. Usually, the way we think they ought to be. We try to jam one piece into another and it just will not fit. That’s the workings of a puzzle. Our mystery of faith is also our mystery of family. A mystery to be embraced, prayed about, pondered upon, grasped, embraced and…and loved. Faith and family.

To make matters worse, my mom’s cousin very much older than she, had a son six months before having me who thinks that he’s the Savior. Imagine the early conversations at dinners.

My mother cousin’s son sees the feet of his cousin and his sandals and knows that he is not the One. He embraces his role as a messenger. He’s the Ed McMahon of our historical salvation.

“Dysfunctional Family?” Begin with the family that we call “Holy” and then look at your own family. It is the very same scenario surrounded by characters you know and whom you do not fully know. That’s the intimacy, the mystery and all of the wonders of what defines your family and my family – and our family of faith.

I hope you can wait because I can’t wait until I sing, “The mystery of faith and family.” Stay tuned.