American culture rewards hustle. We admire long hours, packed calendars, and the ability to power through exhaustion. For parents especially, busyness is often baptized as virtue: I’m doing this for my family. Productivity becomes proof of love.
I myself fall into the temptation of stuffing my calendar to try to prove myself worthy of love and to show that I care about my family and my community. Plus, there truly is so much to do!
However, Catholic tradition does not ask first whether we are busy or productive, but whether we are present to the people God has entrusted to us.
An old Italian legend tied to the Feast of the Epiphany offers a useful warning. The Magi traveling to find the newborn King happen to meet La Befana, a hardworking old woman.
In Tomie DePaola’s version, “The Legend of Old Befana,” she never makes time to visit with the people of her village and is “always” sweeping, according to the local children. She sees the star, which she complains is too bright for her to be able to sleep. When she hears bells, she still keeps sweeping, telling herself that the sounds were just the wind or birds. She meets the Magi, and a boy who is part of the procession invites her to join them. She bakes sweets for Jesus but then decides to return to sweeping, thinking it would only take her a little time. By the time she leaves, it is too late; she never finds Jesus in Bethlehem.
La Befana’s failure was not sloth. It was misplaced priority. That lesson lands squarely in modern family life. Many Catholic parents work long hours not out of greed, but out of duty. Mortgages must be paid. Children must be fed. Healthcare costs must be covered. I tell myself these things, too. These are real responsibilities. But they also create a quiet temptation: to believe that providing is the same thing as parenting, and that presence can always be postponed.
The Gospel does not support that logic. Christ does not wait until life is less hectic. He enters the world amid political upheaval and family strain. He is born while Joseph is scrambling and Mary is exhausted. He calls disciples away from their nets — and away from their routines.
Epiphany celebrates revelation: God makes Himself known to those willing to stop, notice, and respond. The Magi leave livelihoods and comfort behind to follow a star. La Befana stays home to finish her work and misses Him.
Parents face this choice daily. Christ comes to us not only in prayer or the sacraments, but in interruptions: a child who wants to talk at bedtime, a spouse who needs attention, a family dinner competing with email and screens. I recognize those moments — and I have often resisted them.
For recovering workaholics, following Jesus often begins with small acts of mercy toward themselves: admitting limits, embracing imperfection, and asking God for help rather than trying to earn rest. Grace grows when we build in real pauses — Sunday rest, daily prayer, even brief moments of silence — and trust that the world will not collapse without our constant effort. Choosing presence over productivity is not failure; it is an act of faith. Over time, those small surrenders train the heart to recognize when Christ is passing by and to respond without delay.
The mercy of the legend is that La Befana is not condemned. Her regret becomes conversion. She went searching for Christ, hoping to find Him among the children she encountered and gives gifts to the children she finds. For parents, the meaning is clear: the search for Christ often takes place within their own homes, in the daily care of their children. As Jesus teaches, “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40).
God does not ask us to abandon work for our families. He asks us not to sacrifice our families to work.
If Christ knocked on our door today — through our spouse, our child, or a call to slow down — would we tell Him to come back later?
Or would we put down the broom and follow the star?
The post Put down the broom: An Italian legend for busy families appeared first on CatholicVote org.