Carrie In Writing

Oh What a Month!

2011-12-23T11:09:00.003-06:00

A month and a day since my last post and what a month and a day it has been! Three days after that post, I became engaged to my boyfriend of 1 1/2 years. Matt proposed to me at my family's Thanksgiving gathering. It was a sweet, surreal, memorable moment and I've barely come down from the clouds since. Even with the expectation of our engagement coming about before the end of 2011, Matt still managed to surprise me on the occasion of his proposal. Not once in the midst of cooking turkey and baking pies that morning did it cross my mind that I might be engaged before the afternoon has passed.

Since that Friday, we have managed to schedule our date at our church, with our priest and with the reception hall of our choice. Yesterday we chose a photographer. The rest will wait until next year. It is an exciting, praise-God-for-His-plans time in our lives.

And now we come to Christmas. That annual feast that never ceases to bring a spirit of expectation, joy and warmth, no matter how many times we celebrate it. It is the mystery of that Child born in the humblest of circumstances, that He can reach through the centuries and still touch the hearts of each of us. Even those who don't realize it's His doing! The spirit of excitement and love takes hold in us all to some degree. Let it in! Let it fill you up! I pray that this Christmas pours its spirit into our lives, spilling over to all whom we love. In between the cooking, the cleaning, the gathering, the gift giving and receiving, and so on, may we take a moment to contemplate the Christ Child!

'Tis the Season

2011-11-22T10:40:00.003-06:00

And so it begins! It's Thanksgiving week and that will usher us into Advent, which will build to Christmas which will fly by to New Year's. I love this busy, blessed, overwhelming, enjoyable time of year. Truth be told, every time I look at the calendar I feel like someone is pulling a prank. How is it already time for Thanksgiving and all that follows?!

Tonight we'll attend the annual Appleton Christmas Parade then my sister and I are watching the Hallmark movie, "An Old Fashioned Thanksgiving." Wonderfully cheesy and sentimental, just right to usher in the season.

I am trying my darnedest to not become overwhelmed this week... or in any of the coming weeks. The forced facing of the reality of living without a personal computer is the opposite of helpful. My laptop took a devastating crash this weekend and the tragedy has me in a bit of a panic.

There is online shopping to be done! And keeping abreast of friends' holiday adventures via facebook! And family email exchanges to settle plans with each other! I need to figure out what saint to ask for intercessory prayer for my hard drive to be restored. In the meantime I shall comfort myself with Matt's homemade pumpkin pie ice cream and blogging during work hours.

Bear With One Another

2011-11-13T16:11:00.001-06:00

(Originally written for "The Bells of St. Mary's" parish newsletter)

I’m on break at work and it’s been one of those days: computer issues rendering me incapable of completing my task list, miscommunications and lack of responsibility by individuals, and a vague awareness that I need a vacation. It’s all adding up to a mood in which I’m simply trying not to ruin other people’s days. Now I’m sitting down to write about forbearance. The humor is not lost on me.

Forbearance. The word almost sounds foreign. Certainly not one that rolls off the tongue in everday conversation. It is a word hearkening back to the antique language of the Bible, before revisionists tried to modernize the verses of Scripture. But what is it? Merely a synonym for patience? When St. Paul instructs us to bear with one another (Colossians 3:13), is it a matter of just putting up with people as they are? Or is it a virtue that integrates several virtues at once?
Patience, compassion, mercy, understanding, humility, forgiveness – each is in play when forbearance is practiced. And why do we forbear? Ultimately? Because God does. Because “while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

We forbear because the Father did not wait for us to understand His plans before He sent His only begotten Son. Christ did not wait for people to believe in Him before performing miracles, or for folks to humble themselves before setting a holy example of service. And He did not wait for us to stop sinning before pouring His life out on the Cross. When we consider the Lord ‘s mercy, we should “consider the patience of our Lord as salvation” (2 Peter 3:15).

The family member who can’t shake an addiction, or who has an unbroken pattern of selfishness; the friend who clings to self-pity and grudges, or is too proud to admit a mistake; the coworker who gets under your skin; the spouse with the habit you wish could be eradicated; the child who just can’t correctly do what you’ve shown him how to do a hundred times. They all need your forbearance.

One who forbears looks upon another’s struggle, suffering or shortcoming and, as he does so, humbly acknowledges his own of the same. Forbearance manifests itself in enduring, determined patience. It is the antithesis of provocation. Where you could react in loud anger, you choose mildness and calm, firm words. Instead of giving up hope, you ask the Holy Spirit to show you how to help. Rather than dismissing the troubles weighing on another’s mind, you listen and seek to understand. Forgiveness is chosen over resentment. Intercession is offered up instead of condemnation.

Look on everyone with the eyes of your Heavenly Father, from the briefest encounter with a stranger to the most intimate relationships in your life. The Father’s eyes see each of us as we truly are, with every success and failure, strength and weakness, act of love and act of fear, virtue and vice. Through those eyes, we can love, and because we love, we can forbear.

In the Shadow of the Cross

2011-09-15T15:48:00.006-05:00

Last night I began a post on the Feast of the Triumph of the Cross. It was left unfinished and I expected to wrap it up today. The words were full of hopeful things... the mystery of God's masterful ways, the beauty of Christ's humility, the wonder of what God can do when we are faithful even in suffering, the rich abundance of living as victors in Christ. I meant to finish it for you, whomever you are, but I find that I can't. Not today. Today has morphed into a Jonah day. The morning brought stress and tiredness and a wish to hide away. Then the afternoon arrived with news of a family friend's very unexpected and difficult to fathom death. I've kept my head bowed low over my workspace to hide the tears that keep falling each time it creeps across my thoughts. And so I find I can't wrap up last night's thoughts on the Triumph of the Cross. And yet the Triumph of the Cross is the only thing that matters on a day like this one. The only thing.

Something Big?

2011-09-12T15:45:00.002-05:00

Do you ever get the giddy, stomach-jumpy feeling that something big is coming? I don't feel it too often. The details of my life are mundane and consistent, laced with blessings but still rather 'as usual' from day to day. Lately though, I can't shake the aforementioned feeling. It's a heightened awareness, a standing on my tip-toes wondering what's over the bend perspective.

In 17 days, I'll turn 30. I've concluded this has a lot to do with the current feeling. Until just the last few days, I've given little thought to this mile marker birthday. It hasn't bothered me or worried me or excited me. Celebrating birthdays is a great love of mine so I have simply looked forward to enjoying this one in a fashion similar to the rest. My sister and my boyfriend have undertaken the plans though and I am not privy to details. This arrangement certainly warrants some happy anticipation. For some reason though, it is more than that. It is more than the expectation of a fun, memorable celebration. It is a hope.

An undefined but hearty hope. I am hopeful. I am hopeful about my still unpublished novel which I am working diligently to revise and improve and nervously submit to my fellow book club ladies for their reading pleasure (ideally...). I am hopeful about the man I love with all my heart, who is gradually welcoming a faith in Christ and the Church and all the life giving goodness that comes from a sacramental relationship with our Lord. I am hopeful about the things in myself that need significant growth - those habits and virtues and courses of action that will lead me daily closer to the best version of myself.

Whether it's the Holy Spirit or my own persistent optimism, I am expecting big things.

For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope. (Jeremiah 29:11, NAB)

Can't Get Enough

2011-08-30T13:14:00.002-05:00

Two mornings in a row, I have been awakened by Barry White's "Can't Get Enough" playing on my alarm clock radio. As I lay for a few moments longer on my pillow today, listening to Mr. White's resonant baritone and laughing at the coincidence, I couldn't help wondering if there was any significance to it. Was I about to live Monday through again in a Bill Murray-esque manner? Oh, I hoped it wouldn't be so. Then as I passed the next hour dressing for the day, applying my makeup and drying my hair, I wondered a bit at how anything signifies anything.

Let me qualify that. Of course there are things of obvious significance - events, actions and interactions that have meaning and influence, effecting change and so on. My pre-workday musings had more to do with the rest. The rest. All that fills our days and nights, in between the moments of clear significance. The way we phrase our conversations; the clothes you put on; the food you decide to consume; the music you tune your radio to in the car; the people you choose to smile at; the people you choose not to smile at; the tv show you sit down to watch; the laundry you make time for; the dishes you decide to leave for another day... Does any of it signify?

There are many in this world who would answer with a firm 'no.' What do these things matter? In the long run, who cares? Well, sorry to be such a contrarian but I take a different view. I say 'yes.' I say the little bits of life signify a great deal. The little bits are what our habits consist of, and our habits are what our characters consist of. Recognizing this, I believe we can choose to live deliberately. That is, live in a manner that directs all our actions, words and even thoughts to the service of developing virtue. Patience, courage, generosity, joy, mercy, understanding, love. Virtue doesn't grow out of enormous tests and trials. Virtue grows out of day to day living and proves its worth when the larger events come to pass.

I too get caught up in thinking that living with purpose means setting out to achieve great things. I fill myself up with resolve that is sapped in a week's time. I overlook all the small opportunities to live deliberately and when the opportunities for great things do come, I find I am nowhere near ready for them.

I don't know if Barry White will wake me up again tomorrow. I do know that choosing to be amused and to get out of bed smiling as the song played set the tone for my day. In fact, this seemingly insignificant event and reaction might be credited with today being remarkably more pleasant than yesterday despite the content of the two days being so alike. Just another reminder to live deliberately and trust that the big and lasting good things are built upon numerous little and momentary good things. Barry White and I encourage you to live so as to infuse significance into all the moments between the significant.

Feasting

2011-08-03T17:13:00.004-05:00

To close my adoration hour this past Monday, I prayed Psalm 63. My eyes returned to verse 5 after I finished. I read the words over a second and then a third time. "My soul will feast and be satisfied, and I will sing glad songs of praise to you." So read the Good News Translation which happened to be the version available in the adoration chapel. The NAB (verse 6, by the way) reads, "My soul shall savor the rich banquet of praise, with joyous lips my mouth shall honor you."

Oh, those words! How truly they resonate. They reminded me of something my favorite Scripture professor, Dr. Gregory Vall, said as we studied Psalm 25. Verse 1 includes, "to you O Lord, I lift up my soul." We discussed the notion of lifting our souls, our nephesh (Hebrew*), to God. Dr. Vall insightfully noted that "we are always lifting our nephesh to something." Our souls are always seeking something and so we lift them up to whatever we think maybe, just maybe, will be what is sought. David, as he expresses in his psalm, chooses to lift his to the Lord. The verse that caught my attention so strongly in Psalm 63 seems to me like David's follow up to that choice.

"My soul will feast and be satisfied." Our souls - our innermost being that gives us our unique human intellect and free will, our 'hearts' that house our desires, our spiritual aspect - these souls of ours are incessantly hungry. Having been made for the purpose of eternal life with God, they are kept between the boundaries of this earthly life and so have an unshakeable restlessness for more. Hungry... and so our souls feed. Or rather, we feed our souls. Sometimes it is with the choice meats of prayer and authentic love. Other times, all too often, it is on the scraps of selfish pursuits or flawed pleasures. In some instances, we are quite aware that we are feeding our souls. We are convicted by the restlessness in us and so determinedly pursue contentment - be it in wise or unwise places. Then there are the instances of unawareness. We latch on to sources of pleasure, gnawing through them for the satisfaction they can't give, and don't even realize the malnourishment of our souls. This life offers an unending buffet for our consumption. Some soul foods are worth tasting and enjoying and will lend strength for the days ahead. Many are superb when taken in proper portions and at the right times. Others shouldn't even touch your plate for they will only bring bitter, regrettable damage.

At all times though, our souls are feeding. They are never satiated. They cannot be. For it is only in the banquet halls of heaven that the "soul will feast and be satisfied." One day... one day... the soul will long for no more for it will have all. In the meantime, feed it well, my friends.

(*Have to give credit to my friend Fr. Mike Chenier for correcting me when I first posted this and said nephesh is Latin. Can't believe I made that mistake! I hope I didn't shame Dr. Vall too badly.)

Sleep Deprived

2011-07-29T08:20:00.003-05:00

A series of much too late nights and I have reached Friday with dark circles under my eyes and yawns escaping at an all too frequent rate. I am tired. Tired, tired, tired. It is an effort simply to keep my head held up and my eyelids open. And so, I need to formally lodge some complaints... with myself....

1. Carrie Sue, it is time to recognize that you're getting old. You cannot fully function on 6 hours or less sleep per night. In fact, you probably wouldn't do well on less than 7 hours for more than one consecutive night. In exactly 2 months, you will be 30. Yes, 30. Since you have never been that 20-something girl who still parties like she's a co-ed (nor did you do so when you were actually a co-ed), there is no reason to think your body has been properly trained for such minimal amounts of sleep even if it's for the sake of watching The Big Bang Theory episodes on your boyfriend's couch rather than getting wasted.

2. Why do you insist on sacrificing the essentials when you are crunched for time and/or energy? Prayer, exercise, reading - have you seriously not yet learned that these are not the things to be set aside when you're having a week like this one? Oh, foolish, foolish Carrie Sue. You have spent oh so many years learning this lesson. You must have a remarkably thick skull.

3. Sleep deprivation = crankiness = you are not all that pleasant to be around. Do your loved ones a favor and get some rest.

On the Lack of Beaches In My Life

2011-07-21T10:08:00.003-05:00

There is a terribly sad lack of beaches in my life. As far as places on this earth go, it is hard to find any I enjoy more than a good beach. I have not traveled to Europe - a significant caveat, I'll admit. That fact aside though, what I wouldn't give to be near a great beach. By great, I mean soft sand, lengthy for walks and jogs, shallow near the shore for putting only my feet in but much deeper further out for a good swim. No scum or stench from industry further up the shoreline. It should be within a 30 minute drive from home, under 15 minutes is ideal. Sunsets there ought to be spectacular. I'm thinking of Good Harbor Bay or Point Betsie. Grand Haven and Holland, though those are busier. Naples, FL was lovely too. Or Ponte Vedra, trading the sunsets for sunrises. I live in Wisconsin... on the Lake Michigan side of Wisconsin... it should not be so hard to spend a day at a truly great beach. Alas, it is.

Rediscovering

2011-07-19T07:37:00.002-05:00

On Saturday, I began reading Matthew Kelly's Rediscover Catholicism and it has me all fired up in the best way. His message has me recalling my love for this sort of material - spiritually themed, practically applied and authentically communicated. Oh how I love the Church. I neglect that love sometimes, letting it fall to the back of the line of the things that occupy my days. This book is an effective rearranger of that line.

The pages of the first chapters already host plenty of underlined passages and small margin notations. Plenty of statements Kelly makes have struck me as significant with a lot of, 'that is so true' moments. The one that's staying with me since yesterday reads, "God always wants our future to be bigger than our past. Not equal to our past, but bigger, better, brighter, and more significant. God wants your future and my future, and the future of the Church, to be bigger than the past. It is this bigger future that we need to envision" (pp. 23-24).

I've been thinking plenty about the future in recent days. Plenty. Sometimes I want to just stop thinking about it for a while and remember to be present in the present. However I can't claim I've thought about the future in such terms as Kelly suggests. What I love about this declaration, that God wants our future to be "bigger, better, brighter, and more significant," is the beautiful reality that when God wants something, He always, always makes a way for it to be possible. He doesn't do it for us. He makes it possible. This means that I can have that future. You can have that future. If God desires it, He will provide means necessary for you to attain it. And He does, undoubtedly, desire it.

Fresh

2011-05-12T07:43:00.000-05:00

My lover speaks; he says to me,
"Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one,
and come!
"For see, the winter is past,
the rains are over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of pruning the vines has come,
and the song of the dove is heard in our land.
The fig tree puts forth its figs,
and the vines, in bloom, give forth fragrance.
Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one,
and come!
~Song of Songs 2:12~

I have two double daffodils on my desk. It is baffling how the presence of fresh flowers changes a space. They were among the few blooms in our front flower bed that came through this spring. Once their stalks bent to the ground, I rescued them to spend the last of their bright yellow days in a mug of water on this desk. Perhaps when I have a true writing desk, a space consecrated to that activity, I will aim to always have fresh flowers of some sort at hand. Someday...

It's a season of freshness - Spring - overly wet and slow in coming though it may be. The branches of the many maples in my neighborhood are decked out in their green buds. Daylight comes at such an early hour again. Walks and bike rides and softball games are filling the evenings. My summer calendar is already heavy with plans but for now, for a few more weeks, I feel like I can breathe a bit slower, deeper, and the air I catch will swell in my lungs with the freshness it lacked through the lengthy winter.

My niece became engaged this past Sunday. For several years it was a frequent (and nearly funny) joke in our family that she might marry before me or a couple of my sisters. The idea of that happening was a lonely one indeed. The past year changed my perspective on a heck of a lot though and with my hand in Matt's, I am able to rejoice with her. Granted the fact that my niece is getting married makes me feel a bit old, but not lonely. In a single year, I have tasted what it means to have a companion, to be beloved, to give and receive wholehearted affection, to fight for and with each other, to question and subsequently dig for the answers, to rest in another's arms and trust them to hold you well. I say 'tasted' because even with all the depth of the relationship thus far, I have a back-of-the-mind sense that we have yet only skimmed the surface.

In the last few months I've read several books that remind me why I love reading. They remind me of what I am trying to do and why I try at all. Water for Elephants, The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society, Inkheart... The words of others wear away my apathy and hesitation. I have no small task in redeveloping Aillinn's character and backstory in order to give more depth to her part in the story of Full of Days. The invigorating pleasure of taking up that task outweighs the difficulty though. I am freshly ambitious and as such I feel more like myself in this realm of things than I have for nearly a year.

There is such beauty - not vain beauty but tangible, effective beauty - in a person pursuing what God has designed them to do. To love, to create, to believe, to hope, to give of themselves in their unique ways. When the talents and qualities He has given are taken up by their possessor, those close by are able to witness that spark of life, of truly living, which I believe we all wish to experience day by day. Each day truly lived is indeed a radiant bloom.

Spurts

2011-05-04T13:13:00.002-05:00

Spring seems to be coming only in spurts this year. Tiny, sporadic, brief spurts. Like today - the first day of sunshine and 50+ degrees in a couple weeks. And a couple weeks ago there was only one similar day after another few weeks prior to that. It's been sad and discouraging and all too well suited to the way I'm living. Writing, cleaning, exercising, praying - all in spurts. It's shameful and it's not me!

Consider this a mid-year review. If I were my boss, I would not give me a raise, inflation or no inflation. Time to step up. There is nothing more disappointing in a person than potential left unactualized. And no person more disappointing in that regard than when it is your own self.

Rebounding from a 10 day cold and headaches that rendered me horribly listless, I am ready to not only feel like myself but to live like myself. How I used to prize consistency! Consistent effort bore consistent fruit.

Let's be honest, falling in love interrupts everything. In the best possible way, of course, but I realize now that I have waited a whole year to adapt to living in love. Welcoming after years of waiting the chance to focus so wholly on my relationship, it is time to live more as my truest self in that relationship. I am a prayerful, tennis playing, hiking, reading and writing friend and family member who is in love. I am not a lover who used to be the rest of those things. It's as cliche as it comes, I know. Who doesn't lose themselves in the joy of the new relationship only to find the relationship would be better nurtured if they hadn't lost track of themselves? So I suppose I'm just learning one of the oldest lessons around. Well, it's learned. I get it. And I am glad for the chance to have learned it. Now let's get on with it! :)

Strange Days

2011-05-01T22:13:00.003-05:00

A headache had me flat on the couch for hours this afternoon. Eventually I moved to my bed and prayed and cried a bit until I fell asleep. It was a heavy sleep that I didn't rise from for three hours. Now I find myself awake when I should be readying for bed. Closing my eyes in the daylight and opening them in the dark, I feel off kilter and am desperately hoping I'll be able to slip back into sleep sooner rather than later. In the meantime, I decided to turn on the television and watch a bit of the coverage on my DV-R of Blessed John Paul II's beatification. With a little restless channel scrolling, I'm now flipping between this and the breaking news of Osama Bin Laden's death at the hands of United States personnel. The combination, along with my shaky nerves from the headache, is rendering this the strangest day in recent memory.

The pain is returning to my head after some relief during my sleep. I haven't eaten much today, which probably isn't helping matters. As I'd awoken this morning with several ambitions for this rare day to be spent at home with no company, there's no denying I was thoroughly disappointed by how things went. Now though, I'm filled with a gripping sense of the littleness of my sufferings. I am a member of this vast human society. It's a society riddled with sickness and war, instability and death... trying to catch hold of peace but never certain of its finest course.

This is a terribly rambling message, I realize. So go my thoughts though. Blessed John Paul II, advocate of the true peace of Christ that passes beyond our understanding, pray for us.

What Is It?

2011-03-31T08:04:00.005-05:00

I don't know how to explain it but I am in such high spirits this morning! I feel as if I could conquer anything you set before me. There is such newness to this day. Is it the promise of plenty of melting of the snow as the temps finally reach the high 40's? Is it the great prospect of a whole relaxing weekend away in Door County for me and Matt? Is it the fact that today is Opening Day and this afternoon my favorite boys of summer will be taking the field again? Is it the simple reality that my life is full of love that wraps around, sinks into, and intersperses itself amongst all else of which my life consists?

"God is love. He didn't need us. But He wanted us. And that is the most amazing thing." Rick Warren

"Love wholeheartedly, be surprised, give thanks and praise - then you will discover the fullness of your life." Brother David Steindl-Rast

"The greatest honor we can give Almighty God is to live gladly because of the knowledge of His love." Blessed Julian of Norwich

What A Difference A Day Makes

2011-03-21T21:08:00.002-05:00

I'm not working tomorrow. There came an urgent need to take a day off. Just one day. A day not intended for other plans and occupations. A true day off. Granted, it's probably not all that urgent and might not qualify as a genuine need. Still, it's close enough. What shall I do? What shall I do with my day? There is something glorious, as many of you working folks and at home parents alike can verify, in the prospect of a day available for whatever you choose. The gloriousness does not come from planning on using it irresponsibly. Neither does it come from scheduling hour after hour with useful accomplishments to be made. It comes from the freedom to make of it what you will.

So I sit here, thinking through the keyboard, listening to Patty Griffin, considering a snack before bed and smiling over the notion of tomorrow. Of course I'm thinking of a dozen ways to use the hours but I'm not allowing myself to actually plan on any of them. I know I'll start the day with prayer and then... who knows.

At The Library

2011-03-08T09:07:00.009-06:00

After work yesterday I spent a good half hour or so among the books. Library... synonym for sanctuary, at least in my personal thesaurus. As I hadn't been to our library here in Appleton for more than five minutes in the last several months, the visit yesterday had me thinking about the hours I've spent in libraries in the course my twenty-nine years. Countless, really.

In junior high and high school, my sister and I walked after school to the tiny public library in our town. Two blocks from the school (those two blocks being the length of our 'downtown'), it was a squat, square building filled with shelves of delight. Jessica and I spent numerous afternoons there. Starting our homework, naturally, but more importantly, searching the stacks. That library is where we got hold of every single Sweet Valley High, Babysitter's Club, Nancy Drew, and Ramona book ever written. It's where we discovered Gilbert Morris, Lori Wick and Janette Oke. Heck, it's even where we discovered the nonsensical fun of People magazine. And it's where I first opened the pages of Pride & Prejudice. I can still picture that copy in my mind: large, with a dark green hard cover and drawn illustrations interspersed among the chapters.

Occasionally we'd stop at the larger library in the relatively larger town nearby (Menominee). I never knew my way around this two story stone building that well and each visit felt like an exploration. This one had wide bow windows overlookng the marina and Lake Michigan and thus I learned how remarkably well water views and reading go together.

I never liked the library at Grand Valley State. It was unwelcoming and hard. When I transferred to Franciscan though, I loved my library once again. Softer lighting, comfortable chairs, beautiful volumes.... A friend secured me a part time position as a clerk and I spent a few quiet hours behind the counter and returning books to their proper homes. I sporadically wondered how happy I'd be as a librarian.

The Appleton public library is unremarkable but adequate. I don't spend a lot of time there as it doesn't provide the cozy security I associate with the libraries I've loved. Nevertheless, the occasional visit - for longer than five minutes to pick something up that I have on hold - remains a delight to me. I will always feel at home among the books.

How Small a Fire

2011-03-03T08:21:00.002-06:00

I fell asleep while reading Persuasion. All the Jane Austen novels are worth reading (though Mansfield Park perhaps only once) but it is Persuasion that I return to time and time again. It is my literary comfort food. Among other things, the story is a demonstration of the terrible power of words. Words to persuade and convince, words to manipulate, words to hide behind, and words left unspoken for far too long. Only when words are spoken in humble honesty, without guile but with hope and courage, only then are things set aright and happiness slips into the grasp of the long suffering hero and heroine.

As this and other things this week have me considering the power of our words, the passage from James Chapter 3 came aptly to mind.

"If we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we also guide their whole bodies. It is the same with ships: even though they are so large and driven by fierce winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot's inclination wishes. In the same way the tongue is a small member and yet has great pretensions. Consider how small a fire can set a huge forest ablaze. The tongue is also a fire. It exists among our members as a world of malice, defiling the whole body and setting the entire course of our lives on fire, itself set on fire by Gehenna. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. This need not be so, my brothers." (vv. 3-10)

It's a dire outlook on human communication but one that is unfortunately justified again and again. With the same mouth we worship God on Sunday mornings then tear down our neighbor, a priceless human being made in the image of God. "From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. This need not be so..." This need not be so. That comment cuts me to the quick. Encouragement and discouragement; love and hate; hope and fear; honesty and dishonesty; and on and on. Are we even aware of the fires we set with our words? Daily we engage in communication with one another, from the spouse to the stranger, and none of our words are without effect. None of them.

If we consider the power of our words for ill, are they not equally capable of good? Were we but more conscious of ourselves, more attuned to the responses of the other person, more concerned with building up another than ourselves... oh the good that could be done. Instead of violent fires, the flames set might be lamps added to one another's paths - paths often difficult enough to walk without us multiplying the difficulty for each other. Yes, the good that could be done.

The Desire & the Decision

2011-02-02T16:40:00.003-06:00

I've never held a dear desire to have children. Making that statement inclines me to hide my face for a moment. I'm well aware that it doesn't fit. It has long felt like something 'wrong' in me. I'm Catholic, wholly pro-life and pro-family. I don't believe in the use of contraception of any sort and I celebrate the beautiful gift that is our cooperation with God in creating His most precious creatures - human beings. I hold children to be among the greatest gifts bestowed by God, never burdens and never unwelcome. I am the youngest of 7 children and those siblings... well, there's little I wouldn't do for them. When friends or family members announce pregnancies or introduce me to their new little ones, I rejoice with them. I relish the tender snuggles and vivacious antics of my 11 nieces and nephews. I mourn with those close to me who have lost a child or struggle to conceive. I love children. And yet...

For years I've been aware of my lack of desire to be a parent. It hangs about in my mind in disconcerting contrast with most of my peers. It leaves me wriggling uncomfortably under the expectations that are voiced by those who know me. I feel a bit ashamed of myself as I hear the hopeful remarks of others, longing for the day they will have children of their own and eager to embark on that journey. Meanwhile, I have longed for marriage, praying for God to prepare me for that vocation and prepare my spouse in the years before I would even meet him. But children... I've wanted to want them. That's not the same though, is it?

There have been stages to my self-assessment in this regard. First, I wrote it off as nothing to be troubled over. "I'm sure eventually God will put that desire in me." "When I meet the right man then I'll begin to long to have children with my spouse." "Of course I want a family. There's no reason to be impatient or desperate about it." More recently I moved into a state of worry as I admitted the fears I hold about being a parent. I worried that deep down I do have a strong desire to be a parent but I'm too scared to acknowledge it. How can I possibly be capable of raising children? This world is so full of influences and events that will inevitably undermine my efforts. Families are too capapble of hurting each other. There's so much pain and disappointment involved. The fears piled up and I wondered how I'd ever admit to my spouse how afraid I am of having children.

Then I met Matt. No, he has not ushered in an era of longing for motherhood. Our attachment to each other didn't act as a magic wand casting a spell on the parental part of my heart. What Matt did bring was his son. Matt brought reality to me in the form of his six year old, tow headed, rambunctious, eager to please, says-the-darndest-things son. Matt invited me into his life, at the heart of which is his son. I stepped hesitantly inside and took a look around. There was plenty to see, even if I kept to the wall. What I saw was parenthood. The daily choice to put another person first, a person entirely dependent on you for his well-being. This fundamental decision of parenthood, to love and do so unrelentingly captivated me. I saw a man who was shaped by his fatherhood, who was on the path he was on because he was a father. I knew this wasn't how it had to be, wasn't the ideal or the convenient or the easy or the carefree way. Yet it was what he chose day in and day out.

It was startling. And like nothing that came before, it took hold of me. Essentially, Matt gave me a new lens. I have long seen the beauty and goodness of children but now I began seeing the beauty and goodness of parenthood itself. In all its struggles and sacrifices, joys and encouragements, unknowns and questions, it is good. I don't know how I missed it before, or not missed it so much as left it uncomprehended.

2011 So Far

2011-01-18T08:54:00.002-06:00

Why hello, Blogosphere! It's been a while. Too long, really. I've had the itch to blog for many days now but haven't taken the time. As well, I haven't hit on a particular topic to expound upon or story to tell. Yet, here I am. Typing away instead of processing invoices for multifunction office machines and their accessories.

I rang in the new year with a fancy dress and my friends' wedding. Matt and I slipped away early though and welcomed midnight with living room slow dances and a sweet kiss. It was a lovely night. Naturally, a few resolutions were also made: floss every day, worry less, relax more, read Scripture every day, watch less TV, and put more money aside for savings. I've done well on the flossing and the savings so far. The rest are a more gradual adaptation.

The new year also brought a new job. I'm still with the same company but gladly accepted an unsought promotion. It brings new challenges and a small raise and I welcome both.

January has been snowy and I'm quite ready for spring. As my readiness doesn't accomplish anything though, I must choose the silver lining instead. Winter lends itself well to indoor hours of reading and writing. As a new member of two book clubs, the reading has certainly increased and I'm loving that. The writing... why, oh why am I having such a difficult time rededicating myself to writing? My desire to be published, to have Full of Days finally go to print, is stubbornly consistent. The same cannot be said of my certainty that I should keep trying. Oh fear, you're such a leech, while courage, you're rank with the more elusive creatures. Lately though, other folks' willingness to take risks and make big, bold moves is pushing me along on this path of recommitment. I look at their decisions and pursuits and wonder how I could settle for holding myself back. So, it's back to the drawing board - or the editing desk. This novel will see the light of day. It will.

And that's that. An underwhelming post, I know, but it will have to do.

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!

2010-12-20T16:18:00.004-06:00

"I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It's not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love." - Linus

My nephew & godson Henry was quite cooperative for this little photo shoot. He'd been Charlie Brown for Halloween (black pants, yellow shirt with a zig zag stripe drawn on it, and a naturally big, round head made for the easiest costume ever) and come Christmas time we realized we couldn't pass up the chance at this picture. I can't stop smiling from looking at it so I knew I needed to share. I dare you not to break out in a grin and hear Linus' poignant monologue begin in your head.

"Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?!"
"Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about...And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, 'Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.' And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.' ...That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."

Christmas is coming...

2010-12-15T09:46:00.002-06:00

I don’t know about you but it can be awfully hard to remember what I’m preparing for during this season. Okay, not that hard. I mean, I’m buying presents, baking cookies, listening to Advent themed sermons on Sundays. Obviously it’s Christmas that we’re preparing for in these present weeks. Better put, it can be difficult to appreciate and understand the result of that which we’ll celebrate on the 25th. Contemplation is a lost art. Stillness of mind and heart can seem impossible or even counterproductive. We always have to be doing enough, saying enough, moving enough. I'm as susceptible to this as anyone. But if I quiet down and hold still, what might I find?

I might find that God is with me. I might find His presence to be full of consuming, transforming peace and joy and hope. All the things we wish for one another in our greeting cards, we’re walking through life surrounded by. They hang about us like the particles in the air of this room, invisible until we stop moving and look at where the light shines brightest.

Mary knew how to do it, always "[keeping] all these things, reflecting on them in her heart" (Luke 2:19). Joseph knew how to do it, aware that the actions he took to be the guardian of the Savior were more important than any words he could speak. So our record of him in Scripture holds no words of his own, only listening, hearing the Word of God guide him, and acting upon it. Simeon knew how to do it, waiting and praying year after year for God to reveal the Messiah. His preparation made him know that Messiah the moment he saw the Holy Family enter the temple.

"Don't we love the word 'with'? 'Will you go with me?' we ask. 'To the store, to the hospital, through my life?' God says he will. 'I am with you always,' Jesus said before he ascended into heaven, 'to the very end of the age' (Matthew 28:20). Search for restrictions on the promise; you'll find none.... Prophets weren't enough. Apostles wouldn't do. Angels won't suffice. God sent more than miracles and messages. He sent himself; he sent his Son. 'The Word became flesh and dwelt among us' (John 1:14)." (Max Lucado, Cure for the Common Life)

With a little practice now - taking a bit of time each day to pray, reading through the Scripture story of the arrival of my Savior, thinking over this extraordinary truth as I perform ordinary tasks - maybe come December 26 and into the new year, I won't forget that God is with me. Christmas brought Emmanuel, "God With Us," but every morning brings another day that He is with me, another day for me to acknowledge and thank Him for being with me, another day to speak and move and act in a manner that declares I know He is with me and I choose not to forget.

God is with us... may we always remain with God.

Snowy Night

2010-12-09T19:51:00.003-06:00

Nature launched a blitz attack on my evening plans. The snow began mid-afternoon, millions of flakes rushing to the ground with the aid of a skin-chilling wind. It hasn't stopped. I'm attempting to focus on the sparkly blanket of beauty and not on the shoveling or the messy driving. In lieu of dinner and a movie with Matt and Nethanial, I am opting for "Without a Trace" reruns, long neglected issues of "Better Homes & Gardens," and chicken alfredo pizza.

The snow has me in the mood for slippers and writing. I'm craving progress. I'm craving the feel of my pen in my hand, the pressure of the point on the paper. I was part of a conversation today on the transition of books to a digital format. My personal preference remains old school. I'm doing my best to accept that this realm of things is changing drastically though. That the generation after me will likely be raised on digital literature is a fact I'm not going to ignore. But as I listened to the guys talk up the evolving technology I thought to myself that the delight of writing won't ever change. The satisfaction of scratching those letters onto the lined page will remain. My work can be published in whatever format anyone wants. I won't fight that. Whatever the end result, it'll start with pen and paper though. No better night to return to that work than this snowy one.

Humble As the Incarnation

2010-11-23T07:20:00.002-06:00

(Originally written & printed in "The Bells of St. Mary" parish newsletter.)

The Incarnation – the event of God becoming man, the 2nd Person of the Trinity, the Son, taking on a human nature – is the sort of event that alters the course of human history. It is the definitive move by God to usher in the great work of our salvation, thousands of years in the making. It is also, arguably, the most humble act of God.

There are dozens of ways to describe humility and dozens of examples of lives characterized by that virtue. As well, there are plenty of reasons to strive for humility in ourselves and encourage it in those we influence. However, no better description, example or reason can be found than Jesus Christ, Himself.

Our human mind tends toward the belief that to do great things we must be greatly acknowledged and honored. Success is achieved by audacity and notoriety. What do we make then of this Heavenly King born in the quiet of a hidden stable? What could be accomplished by such an entrance into human history? Why would God decide to come in this manner, without a display of pomp and power?

What we make of it ought to be exactly what Christ stated in the Gospel: “I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do” (John 13:15). This Advent, consider the effectiveness of humility. Like Christ, you can enter the scenes of life with humble actions and attitudes yet working for great and glorious things. Trusting not in the power of ourselves but the power of God in us, we can do more than we could imagine. With willing obedience to God the Father’s laws and guidance, you will become a conduit of His love, mercy, strength and compassion.

No work of our own, good as it may be, can produce what God’s work can produce. No words of our mouths can convey truth as well as His words. No outreach of ours can reap the changes in this world like His outreach can do. When we submit ourselves to the Lord as His son or daughter and servant, He humbles Himself yet again, as He did at the Incarnation, and works through us in this world. Amongst our families and friends, in the daily grind of the workplace, in the quiet times of prayer, God will include you in the work of His hands. He may bless you with the rewards of your humility here and now, but without question, “your reward will be great in Heaven” (Matthew 5:12), where the Lord keeps for you “an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading” (1 Peter 1:4).

Prayer for Humility
Lord Jesus Christ, I pray that you may fortify me with the grace of your Holy Spirit, and give your peace to my soul, that I may be free from all needless anxiety and worry. Help me to desire always that which is pleasing and acceptable to you, so that your will may be my will.
Grant that I may be free from unholy desires, and that, for your love, I may remain obscure and unknown in this world, to be known only to you.
Do not permit me to attribute to myself the good that you perform in me and through me, but rather, referring all honor to you, may I admit only to my infirmities, so that renouncing sincerely all vainglory which comes from the world, I may aspire to that true and lasting glory that comes from you. Amen.
~St. Frances Cabrini

Seeds & Soil

2010-11-07T07:37:00.002-06:00

I think it's a combination of the yard work yesterday and the significant but unresolved discussion last night about the growth of faith. I woke up today with the parable of the Sower in my mind. It's one of my very favorite passages, possibly my favorite parable, but I haven't read it in quite some time.

Jesus is speaking, yet again, to a great crowd. He stands in a boat, just off the shore, while the crowd assembles on the beach, eager to hear from this great and mysterious teacher.

And he told them many things in parables, saying: "A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they had not much soil, and immediately they sprang up, since they had no depth of soil, but when the sun rose they were scorched; and since they had no root they withered away. Other seeds fell upon thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty." (Matthew 13:3-8)

Later the crowd waits. Jesus is pausing in His preaching and His twelve disciples gather around Him. They question Him on His method. "'Why do you speak to them in parables?' And he answered them, 'To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given.'" (13:10-11) They likely feel the weight of this privilege, but they realize that they too need help to understand what Jesus has told them. Later they will receive the powerful gift of the Holy Spirit to understand all truth (John 14:26; 16:13) and preach it themselves, but for now they depend upon Christ to enlighten them with His words.

Jesus knows this need and He proceeds to explain to the Twelve, "Hear then the parable of the sower. When any one hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in his heart; this is what was sown along the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is he who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is he who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the delight in riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. As for what was sown on good soil, this is he who hears the word and understands it; he indeed bears fruit, and yields, in one case a hundred-fold, in another sixty, and in another thirty." (13:18-23)

There are so very many things that impress themselves on my mind from this teaching of Christ. I will keep myself to only two here though. One is the role of the Sower. The Sower of "the word of the Kingdom" is God, Himself. When we present ourselves to Him, admitting our need for Him and His Word, He sows. When we hear His Word proclaimed and taught, He sows. When we pray and entrust ourselves to Him, He sows. Even when we are not prepared, not certain, He sows. Faith is a gift of God. It is not created against our will and so we do hold a role in its inception in our hearts, but we cannot create it ourselves. We are to be soil, receivers of the seed of faith sown by our gracious and saving God. Pride would have us believe we can save ourselves. Woundedness would have us believe God will not come through. Modern mindsets would have us believe we can know all things by our own power. But it is God who created us and it is God who has made it clear that we need Him and His Word.

Secondly, the parable lays out a bluntly difficult scenario for those who receive the seeds of faith. Christ presents "whens," not "ifs." When the evil one attempts to steal away the seeds; when tribulations and persecutions come because of this faith; when the cares of the world and the desire for the things of this world rise up - these are not hypotheticals and the results when the faith has not yet taken root in good soil are not either. I've seen it and experienced it: the uprooting, the withering, the choking out. Good soil... understanding: this is the aim to be taken. To humbly open your heart and mind to truth as revealed by God and proclaimed by His teaching Church. To take up the work of understanding, of growing strong, lasting roots of faith. To let Him take hold by His Word. To "trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways make straight your paths." (Proverbs 3:5-6) To avail yourself of the rich resources of faith. To be a member of the "household of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and bulwark of the truth." (1 Timothy 2:15) To be good soil. And in good soil, oh the gloriousness of the fruit borne by those seeds sown by the Divine Sower.

Keeps Getting Better

2010-11-03T08:26:00.002-05:00

On my brief commute this morning, I flipped between radio stations a few times. The latest Katy Perry tune just wasn't my cup of tea nor were the DJ's bantering conversations. I settled on a Rascal Flatts song I hadn't heard before. Only half the song played before I reached my parking spot but that's all it took to leave me disappointed. The theme was the urgency of getting married because there wasn't any reason not to do so. His most persuasive argument: "I can't imagine loving you any more than I do today." Romantic? Sweet? Or the makings of a failed marriage?

I know, I know, I'm being far too analytical about a country song, but the statement really bothered me! Maybe when you first realize you're in love, it's so intense that it's valid to say you can't imagine loving the other person more than you do at that point. However as the relationship continues, as time passes and the bond is deepened and solidified, you learn, with considerable amazement, that it is indeed possible to love your beloved more today than the day before. You begin to hope that the trend will continue: tomorrow will see more love than today; next month will see greater commitment than this month; next year will see a richer experience of each other's love than this year. The journey towards marriage ought to make it perfectly reasonable to have confident faith in the ongoing growth of your love for one another. The urgent lust that seems to underly this man's request that they get married immediately? Sure, that might cool off. The passion might even out. The love, though, just keeps getting better. That's what I'm waiting and hoping for; nothing less will persuade me to attend the wedding.

Slowed

2010-10-28T07:49:00.003-05:00

Oh, head cold, you have such a knack for slowing me down. Pressure and congestion and coughing... I am not a pretty sight this morning. As my sister put it after I was dressed for the day, "You look really nice, except for your face." Throw together a handful of nights of too little sleep (and restless sleep, at that), some unexpected traveling and emotionally trying days and we have pitch perfect circumstances for getting under the weather.

One thing I will say about colds though, they are masters at making me settle down. I've wondered if anytime I catch a bad cold, God's been trying to calm me down for a while but I miss His subtlty and so He allows for a more direct tactic. I wouldn't put it past Him... or me. So, I'm giving in. Under a dizzy fog of Dayquil, I will lay low. I will rest. I will enjoy a few simple comforts - a favorite blanket, a mug of tea, a bowl of chicken soup. And I will wait.

I wouldn't be surprised if that's precisely the point the Lord is trying to make with me. Waiting: what I am not doing when I get ahead of myself, whether it be in actions taken or in mindsets and expectations; what I am not doing when I attempt to shape God's will, letting Him know what He ought to be accomplishing in my life; what I may do better under duress of a head cold and a dosage of humility.

Standards & Practices

2010-10-19T08:12:00.002-05:00

I'm currently reading the Catholic novel, Fatherless, by Brian Gail. Important, compelling subject matter; potentially rich cast of characters; horribly disappointing quality of writing. I am so frustrated with this novel! With so little authentically Catholic literature being written and published today, it is beyond aggravating to read a novel with such squandered potential. I'm trusting that in the end I will be glad I read it, as some friends have claimed, but getting there is getting under my skin.

Okay, I'll admit it. Amongst the most frustrating aspects of reading this book is the reality that this is published and my book is not. I am not claiming that my novel is perfect or reaches its fullest potential or even touches on subject matter as compelling as what is found in Fatherless. Yet I can't help but ask no one in particular how a book with such poor narration, confusing timelines, weak character development and further flaws was accepted for publication and mine has been only rejected? Jealousy is rearing its ugly head. I'd be lying if I denied that.

Silver lining though - and this is what I choose to dwell on when the jealousy or frustration are making themselves felt: I have so much fresh motivation! Motivation to continue editing, to hold myself to higher and higher standards as I learn more of the craft of writing, to dedicate myself to this work that I love. And motivation to trust that the Lord will not deem this work fruitless. By His grace and timing, and my continued perseverence and effort, it will bear the fruit it is capable of bearing. I will serve Him by this work. I will follow through on the desires and hope He has created in me.

"Do not grow slack in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord." (Romans 12:11)

Golden

2010-09-28T13:41:00.004-05:00

Tomorrow is my birthday. 29 on the 29th. I'm embarking on the final year of my twenties, some might say the final year of my youth. I can't say the "I'll be 30 next year" thought has bothered me yet. Maybe that'll hit eventually but for now, I'm enjoying life too well to lament its progress. As my sister, Cheryl, wrote in a card for me, this year has been full of surprises - the principal one being that I fell in love.

This past Sunday I had a shared party with my sister, Jessica, who was born exactly 2 years and 6 days (to the minute) before me. When I made my silent wish over 29 candles on my double layer marble cake, I had the hardest time putting the wish into words. As I whispered it to my Lord, all I could think was "my heart's desire... my heart's desire."

Going into this new year of my life, I do know what I want. I do know my heart's desire. I also know that I don't want to attempt to work it out according to my own thoughts and methods. The Lord has so delighted me with His own hidden workings in my life, His timing and wisdom and oh so surprising blessings, that I long to remain securely held in His hands as He continues the good works He has begun. So while I could offer up specific wishes and wants, particular hopes for the coming year, at the heart of it all is that the Lord's will for my greatest good, my fullest happiness, be done.

For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord,

plans for your welfare, not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope.

When you call me, when you go to pray to me, I will listen to you.

When you look for me, you will find me. Yes, when you seek me with all your heart,

you will find me with you, says the Lord, and I will change your lot...

(Jeremiah 29:11-14a)

Best of All

2010-09-20T20:16:00.002-05:00

I love spring. I love summer. I even love a few things about winter. But autumn, oh autumn is best of all. Cool nights suited to baking. Putting on that cardigan you've missed like an old friend who went away for the summer. Leaves to walk upon and rake up in tempting piles. Apple picking. Simmering cider in the slow cooker. Warming each other's hands. Sharing blankets during coppery sunsets. Autumn seems to be best suited for old hymns, British miniseries, and books waiting patiently for reading. It invites you to snatch up sunshine and comfortable evenings, whispering in your ear of its own fleeting habits. It dares you to be happy in your home, content and peaceable for a while. I can't help but trust this season.

Bookish

2010-09-07T11:18:00.003-05:00

I am such a sap! Yesterday, I laughed my head off and cried my eyes out at the movie, "Ramona & Beezus." The movie is based on the Ramona books by Beverly Clearly, favorites of mine as a child. Plain and simple, this was an excellent family film - funny, heartwarming, clean. Not a blockbuster or an Oscar contender, but entertaining fare worth a family's time. But beyond the goodness of the movie was the sweetness of seeing on screen beloved characters from so many years ago. My sister and I repeatedly exclaimed under our breath as yet another character or situation was introduced that we recognized from the books. It gives me half a mind to read those books again. More than that, it drew me into memories of reading. At breakfast, in the car, curled up in bed, in between homework assignments, during commercials... I grew up with a book in front of me. Joy and excitement were found in the immersion of my imagination in the words on each page. There wasn't a lot about my little life to 'expand my horizons', but books... well, books let me know there was a vast world around me, filled with a host of personalities and cultures, opportunities and adventures.

It's why I still read. It's why I write fiction. It's why I question how long I should sustain my current circumstances rather than take a leap.

Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Pray For Us!

2010-08-26T10:45:00.003-05:00

Today marks the 100th birthday of Mother Teresa, known now as Blessed Teresa of Calcutta as she has been beatified on her way to sainthood in the Church. I probably don't need to say much on why she matters, why it is good to reflect on her life, or how she has influenced the Church, the missionary world, and countless individuals lives, whether directly or indirectly. I will say that there has grown in me a deep appreciation of and desire to emulate Mother Teresa's one on one approach to the suffering, injustice and needs of this world. I'm not good with politics, with worldwide issues or global plans. They overwhelm me and I am left feeling helpless and ignorant. This often makes me think I am doing far too little for the good of my fellow human beings (and this is true enough) and that I am not capable of doing much at all (and this is not true at all). It is Mother Teresa's approach that teaches me there will always be ways I can build up the good of this world. Each individual person I encounter presents me with an opportunity to love and serve, to edify and encourage. None should be skipped over; none should be dismissed. The range of actions that can be taken is truly expansive, from the simplest and momentary to the sacrificial and lasting.

May I always remember to love the person, every person, God allows me to encounter. May I not be too preoccupied to recognize a need in another. May I hold a joy in my heart so permament and abundant that it will consistently reach whomever I meet. May I acknowledge that all I have has been given by God and if He asks me to give of it to others, may I willingly and cheerfully do so.

A few words from Blessed Teresa of Calcutta...

Give yourself fully to God. He will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in His love than in your own weakness.

Speak tenderly to them. Let there be kindness in your face, in your eyes, in your smile, in the warmth of your greeting. Always have a cheerful smile. Don't only give your care, but give your heart as well.

Little things are indeed little, but to be faithful in little things is a great thing.

A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, must empty ourselves. The fruit of silence is prayer, the fruit of prayer is faith, the fruit of faith is love, the fruit of love is service, the fruit of service is peace.

Everybody today seems to be in such a terrible rush, anxious for greater developments and greater riches and so on, so that children have very little time for their parents. Parents have very little time for each other, and in the home begins the disruption of peace of the world.

Like Jesus we belong to the world living not for ourselves but for others. The joy of the Lord is our strength.

You and I, we are the Church, no? We have to share with our people. Suffering today is because people are hoarding, not giving, not sharing. Jesus made it very clear. Whatever you do to the least of my brethren, you do it to me.

Lunching

2010-08-24T12:52:00.003-05:00

For the past five years I've maintained the habit of eating my lunch at home alone. The office being a three to five minute drive from my house, depending on green lights, this has been a completely reasonable option for me. I've savored the time by myself, interrupting the workday with an hour to myself, maybe with some productivity or simply some relaxation. I've always been someone who needs a bit of time to myself here and there, so these at home lunches have served me well.

No more. Matt and I work in the same office. Our relationship began with lunch dates. We've now reached the point of only an occasional lunch apart from each other. The way I used to crave that hour alone and miss it if I had to skip it more than once a week, the same can now be said of lunches with Matt. Today I opted to have a long overdue lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in several months. Delightful as it was to catch up and spend an hour enjoying conversation with that friend, in the back of my mind was the constant awareness of missing Matt at my side.

It's a simple little thing, this shift in my lunching preference. Maybe you're rolling your eyes over it or perhaps you think it's sweet. What's the point of sharing this tidbit with you? I guess it has me thinking about the changes wrought in my life over the last three months. Three months... it doesn't seem long enough in the scheme of things to achieve such marked changes in a person's day to day life. As are so many aspects of life lately, this is just another reminder of how capable God is of taking us by surprise as He works out His plans in our lives - especially if we are carrying around expectations, as I know I have done so very much of the time.

For the Beauty of the Earth

2010-08-11T16:17:00.006-05:00

Our excursion to Marinette County, or a bit of the county. These are only 4 of the 15 parks on the 'waterfall tour.' A delightful day in every sense of the word...

We began at Veteran's Falls with a picnic and some traipsing around the water.

Next we drove to McClintock Park. I fell head over heels for this park. Not a waterfall site but a series of wooden bridges over the beautiful river and trails through the forest.

A rocky, steep trail leads from the parking area to Eighteen Foot Falls.

Along the way is one of the coolest tree stumps around.

The day was wrapped up with some traversing of rocks and trails at Dave's Falls.

Prospect

2010-08-05T16:07:00.003-05:00

The mugginess that's clung to our midwestern air for the last few weeks snapped last night. In its place came clear skies and a soothing wind. The sun is hot but the air is dry and I am happier for that fact. The mere seconds for which I stepped outside at 7:15 this morning were enough to inform me that a day off was necessary. This weather is wasted on us while we keep to our cubicles and keyboards. It was too late to finagle for today but tomorrow... yes, tomorrow would be the day. By mid-morning I'd arranged coverage for my normal afternoon hours at the reception desk. By the close of lunch break, Matt had readily agreed to be my cohort in this day away. Between bites we sorted out plans and I have spent the afternoon with the happy, happy prospect of tomorrow. Sleeping in and taking it slow, sunshine and breezes, hiking and waterfalls, and hours upon hours with the man I can't seem to get enough of with each passing day. I do hope I'll have a few pictures of the delightful day to be posted thereafter.

Drama Queen, I Am Not

2010-08-03T12:51:00.004-05:00

A significant aspect of the revisions needed on Full of Days before I submit it to more publishers is the story of one of the main characters, Aillinn. She is a main character but her story lacks the richness of a main character - it fits too snugly into the shadow of the other main character's story. So it must be changed... added to... enhanced. And how will this be possible? Greater character development, sure; digging deeper into the personality and experiences of the character as she interacts with others, yes; more tangible and captivating descriptions than are currently written of her, certainly. But besides these, key to this task is the addition of more drama. Struggle, disappointment, difficulty, dilemma, crisis, mistakes, recovery - more drama... That shouldn't be too difficult for a fiction writer. Right? Um, right.

Dare I admit that I have a strong distaste for creating more drama in these people's lives? They're fictional! They are not real! The drama is not real! Yes, but I know these people inside and out, fictional or not. I hate creating drama in real life and I am living real life while I'm writing so this translates into a bit of a struggle. I am brainstorming over what to add to Aillinn's life, what circumstances to create for her to have a richer, more significant story. Each idea that presents itself is accompanied by a hesitation. "I don't want to do that to her!" Or, "that might be too dramatic." It's hard to sort out the thoughts to know which to heed and which to ignore.

"Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are." (Arthur Golden) It is this which I believe I did accomplish in Annie, the other main character of Full of Days. It is this which I am attempting to do for Aillinn.

Maybe I'm Old Fashioned

2010-08-02T14:08:00.003-05:00

After a recent viewing of the Fred Astaire/Rita Hayworth film, "You Were Never Lovelier," I had a new love: the song, "I'm Old Fashioned." The film was an enjoyable but forgettable bit of fun but the song has stuck with me. What a joy it was to find then that one of my favorite songstresses, Ella Fitzgerald, performed the tune!

"Sighing sighs, holding hands; these my heart understands..."

Taking the Ordinary Time

2010-08-02T13:36:00.002-05:00

The walk I took yesterday morning deserves its own blog post. It was that lovely. However, it's loveliness put me in the right frame of mind for other thoughts and I won't restrict myself to the walk itself. Over the weekend I visited my brother and his family in western Michigan. Their home is situated on a country road in a hollow surrounded by hundreds of acres of cornfields and century old pines, maples and oaks. The setting is impossibly and inherently nostalgic. Having attended Mass the evening before, I took advantage of the quietness of Sunday morning by sneaking out for a walk before anyone else in the house stirred. It was early enough for the dew to still soak the leaves of every plant in existence but late enough for the sun to be halfway to its full height and heat. The picture above is not one I took on this walk but might well have been. The sunlight poured through trees tall and old enough to pass as Ents and it draped the surface of vast cornfields in yellow splendor. I set my iPod to shuffle through five Matt Maher albums and trekked over the broken concrete of the old roads for an hour.

Upon my return I tried to capture for myself why this walk was so gloriously refreshing. I hadn't taken a solitary, early morning walk in a few months... maybe I was rediscovering something I'd forgotten I love. The exercise was edifying... but it isn't as if I'd been motionless in the previous days - hours had been passed in the backyard pool with my nephews and niece. As I wondered over it, my mind drifted to thoughts of the coming week. I searched my brain for what I had scheduled in the days and nights. What would fill my evenings? Anything significant happening at work? Events to attend or people to see? I came up with nothing. Nothing. A possible dinner with friends passing through on Monday evening, but that was only tentative. Relief settled over my skin like a cool sheet on a humid night and I smiled over my discovery.

What was particularly extraordinary about my walk that morning was that it was ordinary. It was an ordinary thing to do - taking a walk - but because I had the time and the energy and the uncluttered mind for it, it had the potential to be extraordinary. Suddenly I could look forward to this week with great delight. Having time to do ordinary things could be counted as extraordinary because of how seldom it is the case. All the things I've been thinking I ought to take time to do, in the next weeks I might actually have the time to take for some of them. Time for the taking - now that's worth a smile and a sigh.

The Fundamental Decision

2010-07-27T08:31:00.003-05:00

(originally written for/printed in "The Bells of St. Mary" parish newsletter)

If questioned on what it means to call yourself a Christian, how might you respond? Do any of the responses that come to mind reach to the heart of what it means to live under the title of Christian?

Pope Benedict XVI looks to the disciple, John, for an answer: “We have come to know and to believe in the love God has for us” (1 John 4:16). This, our pope states, is “a kind of summary of the Christian life.” Indeed, coming to this belief in God’s love is the “fundamental decision” of the Christian’s entire life. Caught up in the ways of the world and settling for rote prayers and surface-only principles, many men and women carry the title of Christian their whole lives without facing this decision. But for those who do face it, this decision brings transformation.

Faith and hope are made possible; perspective on this life in the context of eternity is gained; obedience to God’s commandments becomes an honor; worship provides nourishment of the soul; prayer holds the rich depths of personal conversation with the Holy Trinity. By this fundamental decision to believe in God’s unwavering, self-offering love, the grace gained in the soul at baptism is activated and all aspects of living as a Christian are infused with meaning.

This single fundamental decision can then be reaffirmed in each particular decision to love, serve, obey and worship. In the daily circumstances of family and work and play, all can be placed under the sovereignty of God. A person can then, with practice and maturity, love as a response to Love. Virtue will be preferred to vice not merely to avoid ill consequences but because the heart recognizes and honors the great, unmerited gift of God’s saving love.

For some, the fundamental decision to believe with the whole heart and mind in God’s love is met with hesitation. There are what might be dubbed “fundamental doubts.” (1) How is it possible, with me being me and God being God, that He could love me so completely? (2) Can I ever be sure in my belief? (3) Do I have the capacity to respond well enough if I dare admit the extent of God’s love for me?

To those struggling with the first doubt, Jesus Christ, who is the embodiment of God’s love, points out that He did not come “to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” Awareness of our unworthiness need not produce despair but rather humility and a determination to abandon that which would hold us back from the full acceptance of God’s transforming love. It is not in God’s nature to be inconstant or to love partially. Though we know we are undeserving, we need never entertain the question of whether God wholly loves us.

And to the second doubt is offered the response that faith can indeed be certain. Our world equates faith with superstition or unrealistic idealism but truly the faith of the Christian, when understood and experienced, does not fall into either category. Certainty can be gained in the heart as a gift of the Holy Spirit through prayer and self-surrender. Certainty can be gained in the mind by committed, ongoing growth in knowledge and understanding. When there is a question or an instance of confusion, face it and seek answers. A sincere search for truth will always find truth. The authors of Scripture, the writings and lives of the martyrs and the saints, the summary of the faith found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church – all offer their insights for the sake of our edification in faith.

Thirdly, to the question of our capacity to love in response to God’s infinite love, God Himself answered at the dawn of creation: “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness” (Genesis 1:26). Made in the image of God, we are created with the capacity to love as He loves. We can grow ever more faithful, generous, joyful, merciful and forgiving as He is all these things to the fullest degree. There is no limit to our capacity to image Him and therefore honor Him.

The fundamental decision to believe in God’s love is a matter of saying yes to who God is and who we are as our truest selves. It is carried out in simple, humble ways as we move through our days, relate to one another, and worship with our brothers and sisters in Christ. It is a decision, if reaffirmed unto the last hour, which will carry us into eternal life.

I Am All These Things

2010-07-13T13:03:00.002-05:00

I am distracted and focused. I am scattered and gathered. I am prayerful and skeptical. I am angry and comforted. Last night my sister received confirmation from her doctor that the tumor she had removed last week is the same kind of lymphoma she had three years ago in an entirely different location in her body. Last night I felt only sadness - baffled, helpless sadness - over this news. Listlessness slipped me into sleep. This morning I awoke angry. On her behalf, on her husband's behalf, on her children's behalf, on our parents' behalf, on our family's behalf, I'm angry. Aware that it is far from hopeless, that it could all be okay, I can only consider how it shouldn't be at all.

You know those times when you are aware of exactly what you ought to do, what is in your best interest to do, but you cannot do it? All logic, all experience directs you but you willfully veer left instead of right. In the back of your mind you retain awareness that eventually you will listen to that guiding voice... eventually you'll reenter the road that leads to hopeful trust and peace of mind... but not yet. No, not yet. For now, you choose weakness, aggravation and distraction.

I should pray. I should visit my sister. Instead I am itching to go for a jog, to start those revisions I've been procrastinating on for weeks, to shop, to bake, to finish the book I'm reading. I am a woman of faith and hope and love, but I am also a woman of selfishness and fear. I am all these things. If not for the grace-granting knowledge of God's love for me, I would only be the lesser of these things.

Getting There

2010-07-06T08:52:00.003-05:00

I'm nearly ready to write again. The ache is building to sneak off by myself, pen and notebook in hand, ideas in mind. The desire is coming back and that's a big step in the right direction. It has been sadly absent for many a week.

After reading this post on one of my favorite blogs I am thinking about all that has brought me here, to this spot, this day, this chapter of my life's manuscript. A portion of that well loved verse in Jeremiah 29 pops into my mind: "For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord..." For He knows the plans He has for me; for I do not know the plans He has for me. That is what is carrying me, building me up with determined hopefulness and happy trust. He knows...I do not, and that is as it should be. For it is He who is in possession of perfect wisdom and the fullness of love and it is with such attributes that He gazes upon me, prompts me to follow and leads me into each new day of life.

The path of my career (or lack thereof) that doesn't seem to fit with the ambitions I had in college or in the years since... the job that is at once boring and terribly unchallenging as well as a perfect fit for my other pursuits, places me amongst great individuals and has led to a particularly blessed relationship... the times I have tried to go elsewhere, to move on to something different only to be thwarted but reassured by the Lord that I must continue to trust in His plans... the writing that has led nowhere professionally speaking but has made me into who I truly am now and taught me what it means to faithfully and diligently pursue a goal... and now the wonderful boyfriend who has captured my heart quite unpredictably...

Instance after instance stacks up to teach me that when it comes to reaching what will bring joy, love, hope and all that my life is to contain, none of it is accomplished by knowing what God has in store or where I ought to be or what I ought to be doing from month to month or year to year but by trusting that He does know, listening to my Shepherd's voice, and surrendering myself to His capable hand which He keeps firmly placed on the course of my life.

Slacking Off

2010-06-28T10:18:00.002-05:00

This weekend a friend asked what was the deal with my lack of blogging. It's been a few weeks since my last post and the previous posts have been spread out much more than usual. My sister, who heard my friend's comment, immediately suggested that I've been too well occupied with other things to be blogging. It's true I've been happily occupied elsewhere but I don't think it'd be right to place the blame on my new and wonderful boyfriend. At least, not all the blame. Even before things got started with him my blogging pace had flagged. That's just a symptom of something more, I think, because all my writing has flagged.

Each time I try to sit down to work on The Mercy Hour I am unable to do so. Distraction, discouragment, uncertainty... I'm not in best writing form right now. I'm hoping and praying I'll be able to shake it - whatever 'it' is. The thorough and harsh critique I received recently from an editor on my submission of Full of Days might have something to do with it... or a lot to do with it. Rejection after rejection has come and it's been easy to keep up my determined and positive spirit. This was the first one though that included a critique instead of the prewritten rejection response that is sent by most publishers. Criticism can be a really good thing and it's a necessary thing for a writer, at least, for any writer who wants to continually improve. This criticism amounted to (and no, I'm not imagining this implication, it's there in the email) the editor being of the opinion that Full of Days is unpublishable. I'm not going to pretend that I'm having an easy time dealing with that. So far my dealing has been in the form of avoidance. Eventually I will switch to perservance and put in the work necessary to improve the novel to point of being publishable in the eyes of the right publishing company. Just give me some time to get there, friends.

Put On

2010-06-15T16:51:00.005-05:00

Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do. And over all these put on love, that is, the bond of perfection. And let the peace of Christ control your hearts, the peace into which you were also called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, as in all wisdom you teach and admonish one another, singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or in deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. (Colossians 3:12-17)

It's tough to settle on just one or two pieces of this favorite passage to focus on in this post. Even the very first phrase brings me into deep contemplation. "Put on then..." Living a holy life, a beautiful life, a pure life, a good life - it's a choice of your free will. It is not put on you by someone else; it is not lived by default. Consciously, willfully, purposefully... that is how we are to daily put on the new life in God that we receive by Baptism. Whether I put it on yesterday or the day before or ever before, today I can put it on. Everything that follows (or has the potential to follow with God's grace and our efforts) hinges on us first choosing to live that life. Each day... each situation... each relationship; in all circumstances we can choose to live according to the truth of who we are as children of God, made in His image, redeemed by Him, possessing dignity beyond measure and a purpose beyond this world. We make that choice to cloak ourselves in the love, grace and discipline of Christ and we open the gates to all that God wishes to make of our lives.

Not Go Empty

2010-06-08T16:03:00.003-05:00

The brook near where Elijah was hiding ran dry, because no rain had fallen in the land. So the LORD said to Elijah: “Move on to Zarephath of Sidon and stay there. I have designated a widow there to provide for you.” He left and went to Zarephath. As he arrived at the entrance of the city, a widow was gathering sticks there; he called out to her, “Please bring me a small cupful of water to drink.” She left to get it, and he called out after her, “Please bring along a bit of bread.”
She answered, “As the LORD, your God, lives, I have nothing baked; there is only a handful of flour in my jar and a little oil in my jug. Just now I was collecting a couple of sticks, to go in and prepare something for myself and my son; when we have eaten it, we shall die.” Elijah said to her, “Do not be afraid. Go and do as you propose. But first make me a little cake and bring it to me. Then you can prepare something for yourself and your son. For the LORD, the God of Israel, says, ‘The jar of flour shall not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, until the day when the LORD sends rain upon the earth.’” She left and did as Elijah had said. She was able to eat for a year, and Elijah and her son as well; the jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry,as the LORD had foretold through Elijah.
1 Kings 17:7-16

This is the first reading for Mass today. I was reading it this morning while I ate waffles and put off thoughts of the workday for a few more minutes. It is one of my favorite Old Testament passages because of its portrayal of the providence of God. A prophet traveling through the land, dependent upon others to support him but meeting persecution in many places; a widowed mother enduring the famine and fully aware of the direness of her conditions; a command from God to count on Him... Like weights on a scale, the risk of trusting God will come through sits heavily in the heart of the woman. She cannot see what, if anything, will be set on the opposite end of the scale. Will her need be met? Will the risk be balanced?

It wouldn't be risk and it wouldn't be trust if she could forsee exactly how God might provide for her.

She risks and she trusts and God does not merely balance things out but truly overwhelms the need and anxiety by His generosity and faithfulness.

Chasing

2010-06-02T11:10:00.003-05:00

Last night I chased down a sunset. From my front step I am only allowed a teasing glimpse of the end of day, closed in as we are by trees and houses and low elevation. Yet last night's glimpse was everything necessary to know this sunset needed to be chased. It was not one of the many that can warrant a glance and nothing more. It deserved to be seen. So I drove. I turned up the music in my little sedan, lowered the window to let my elbow meet the wind, and I drove. Farm field after farm field was passed as I moved further from town and nearer to the middle of nowhere. Barn peaks and silos inserted themselves on the glowing orange canvas of the quickly fading sunset. It was magnificent. I got absolutely no photos that do it justice and I didn't care a bit. Turning around, heading home, restricting the colors to only my rearview mirror... I really didn't want to go. The music was turned up a little more, my whole arm hung outside the open window and I drove back into the valley, chasing nothing.

Missing

2010-05-25T09:22:00.003-05:00

What is it about today that has me missing a particular friend so terribly? I can't put my finger on it. All I know is that it's hitting me hard today. He has been the definition of "a good friend" for the last few years - good for a laugh, good for a hug, good for counsel, good for conversation. Due to some particularly trying circumstances, we've had to go our separate ways other than an occasional email. I miss him... and today I miss him more than usual.

My priest often comments on how we all have to learn the difficult lesson of letting go of certain relationships at the proper time. When clinging to it or remaining in it would undermine what was good in the relationship in the first place, or when the other person is keeping you from continuing on the road the Lord is taking you down, the question arises of whether that person is supposed to be in your life any longer (or you in theirs). His remarks had yet to hit home for me, not because I've never seen someone leave my life or experienced an end to a relationship but because all those endings have happened quite naturally. For one to end when nothing in me wants it to end... to have to make that choice because I know it must be made but nothing thereafter makes me glad it has ended... that's a new experience for me and not one that I am enjoying.

Early Rising

2010-05-21T15:49:00.007-05:00

We've now come upon the time of year when the morning sunlight is already filling my bedroom by a little after 5 a.m. My friends think I'm crazy for only keeping a white curtain over my window, nothing to keep the room dark while I sleep in the morning hours. But that's just me. This time of year, I start getting up 30 or 45 minutes earlier than necessary a few times a week just because the sunlight is all it takes to get me out of bed. I wake with a small smile on my face as I realize I don't have to hear my alarm clock sound because I've woken before the time for which it's set. When I do sleep until that time, I have fewer grumbling words for the chipper radio DJ rousing me to consciousness. Not every day, of course, but plenty of days.

This particular morning was one of those days. Daylight (not sunlight for the clouds had come in during the night) illuminated that white curtain and I was awake and eager to be upright. My legs held a bit of stiffness from the tennis games played the night before but I stretched them out and dressed for a walk. I scrolled through my iPod and let Switchfoot's "Beautiful Letdown" take me out the door. The rain, only a sprinkle at first, began almost as soon as my feet hit the sidewalk but the temperature held some lovely warmth and the rain did too. 30 minutes of me and God and the music. 30 minutes of footfalls on empty roads. I stopped for five of those minutes at a neighborhood park as the swingset proved to be irresistible. That first hour or so of daylight holds an aspect of peace belonging exclusively to it. There is a sort of authority in the sun's light compelling me to awaken and acknowledge it. And I don't mind at all.

Gift

2010-05-17T21:37:00.002-05:00

Although the Church at large celebrated the great feast of the Ascension of the Lord this past Sunday, I found myself that morning reading the Mass readings for the 7th Sunday of Easter. Those details don't mean much to you unless you're familiar with the Catholic liturgical calendar. My point is that before anyone else in the house woke up on Sunday, I tucked myself into the corner of the couch and read through a selection from the Gospel of John, chapter 17. How many times have I read or listened to that chapter? How many times have I contemplated or studied that marvelous prayer of Christ in the hours before His arrest? Dozens, at least. Yet never has my attention been caught by what snatched it up this past Sunday morning.

"Father, they are your gift to me. I wish that where I am, they also may be with me, that they may see my glory that you gave me, because you loved me before the foundation of the world." (John 17:24)

I didn't skip over this verse in all the other instances. Even so, I felt like I was reading the initial statement of the verse for the very first time. "Father, they are your gift to me." At this point in the prayer, Jesus is praying for all the believers in Him who would come down the road of time. The ones who would come to faith through the evangelization of the Church, who would be brought into the fold for however many generations will come and go until the end of the age. He was praying for you and me.

It's possible that I was especially in need of this message in that particular hour of that particular day and that's why it stood out to me. The words continue to ring in my ears since then though. "They are your gift to me." The Lord, Most High considers me a gift to Him. He desires that I be with Him, in His presence, enjoying His everlasting glory. Me. You. A gift to Him. The notion soaks into me like the warmest sunshine.

Pride shooed away for a moment, we can all admit in our hearts that we long to be treasured... to be loved so exquisitely and unconditionally that the lover desires that we always be with them, near them, sharing in their lives. The lover's own joy is multiplied because we are theirs. Their glory, so to speak, is magnified by our presence.

Turns out, we are loved exactly so.

Keep It Simple

2010-05-11T15:18:00.006-05:00

Did you know that your big toe has only two bones in it while the rest of your toes each have three? Well, you do now. That was the fun fact on my Snapple cap today and it got my friend and I thinking. We both thought that seemed a bit backwards. Could be a sad lack of remembrance of our high school biology lessons, or it could be something more. After all, the big toe is, well, big. It's important; it seems to do more than the little toes when it comes to balance. Surely it's more complex on the inside!

I realize this is a stretching of the simile but please let me say it: the big toe isn't so different from life's big things. I tend to assume that every occupant of the "things that matter most" category is complicated. They must require a great deal of deliberation, maneuvering and so on and so forth. Could it be that the inner workings of the big things are actually simple? It seems too good to be true for a girl who tends to over-think most everything. In the way that my background tends to influence me, my thoughts on the big toe analogy brought me around to Scripture and the beautiful yet challenging simplicity of life in Christ. Here more than anywhere else, "simple" does not equal small or inconsequential. The calls placed on our lives, the commandments we receive, they're a big deal. They're an eternally huge deal. Yet Christ keeps it simple.

"Follow me..." (Matthew 5:19)
"Let your light so shine before men..." (Matthew 5:16)
"Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven..." (Matthew 6:20)
"Do not be anxious about your life..." (Matthew 6:25)
"Come to me..." (Matthew 11:28)
"Listen to him [Christ]..." (Matthew 17:5)
"Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind..." (Matthew 22:37)
"Love your neighbor as yourself..." (Matthew 22:39)
"Make disciples of all nations..." (Matthew 28:19)
"You must be born anew... of water and the Spirit..." (John 3:7, 5)
"Go, and do not sin again..." (John 8:11)
"You also should do as I have done to you..." (John 13:15)
"Abide in my love..." (John 15:9)
"Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world..." (John 16:33)
"Make love your aim..." (1 Corinthians 14:1)
"Be imitators of god as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us..." (Ephesians 5:1-2)
"Do nothing from selfishness or conceit but in humility count others better than yourselves..." (Philippians 2:3)
"Rejoice..." (Philippians 4:4)
"Seek the things that are above, where Christ is..." (Colossians 3:1)
"With confidence draw near to the throne of grace..." (Hebrews 4:16)
"Do right and let nothing terrify you..." (1 Peter 3:6)
"LET YOUR MANNER OF LIFE BE WORTHY OF THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST..." (Philippians 1:27)

Am I now oversimplifying? Over compensating for my overthinking? Well, perhaps it's not that the situations, the decisions, the relationships, the risks and so on are all that simple and straightforward. They can all be plenty complicated and difficult. The lens through which we view them though, the avenue by which we approach them, that's where the simplicity rescues us from ourselves.

This & That

2010-05-04T14:30:00.004-05:00

I haven't even seen the third "Pirates of the Caribbean" film but this rumor is a thrill to hear: Pirates 4 to film in Traverse City?? The photo on that blog does away with any doubts that it's a usable setting for the film. It's crazy how much I love that area.

Each and every flowering tree around here is obscenely fat with blossoms right now. It's fabulous. The season for such sights is also the season for dandelions though. Seriously, I mowed the grass only last night and already there is almost as much yellow as green in our lawn. If I gave any credence to such things I'd have to deem the dandelion the single best representation of survival of the fittest in the plant world.

This morning I found a new favorite poem. Not many poems give me the inclination to memorize and loudly recite their verses but this one accomplishes exactly that.

Becalmed upon the sea of Thought,

Still unattained the land it sought,

My mind, with loosely-hanging sails,

Lies waiting the auspicious gales.

On either side, behind, before,

The ocean stretches like a floor, --

A level floor of amethyst,

Crowned by a golden dome of mist.

Blow, breath of inspiration, blow!

Shake and uplift this golden glow!

And fill the canvas of the mind

With wafts of thy celestial wind.

Blow, breath of song! until I feel

The straining sail, the lifting keel,

The life of the awakening sea,

Its motion and its mystery!

(H W Longfellow)

The Sights & Sounds of May

2010-05-03T12:41:00.004-05:00

"Yesterday was the first of May. I love the special days of the year.... A May Day that feels as it sounds is rare and, when I leaned out of the bedroom window watching the moat ruffled into sparkles by a warm breeze, I was as happy as I have ever been in life. I knew it was going to be a lucky day."

(Chapter 9, I Capture the Castle)

The arrival of May puts me in the mood for yet another delightful reading of my tied-for-favorite book, I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. Since I just read it for the fourth time about a month ago, maybe I'll only revisit some favorite scenes. Also appropriate to both the book and this May temperament, I am listening to Bach's Adagios with a smile on my face. Do you suppose he composed them in springtime? Some of them, certainly. It's hard to imagine the creation of "Sheep May Safely Graze" occuring in late autumn's dryness or the depths of winter.

May causes me to wish to live in the countryside. The colors and brightness of the month are reason enough to long for a lengthy drive to reach any destination. I often wonder how long I will stay where I am - in this town, in this house. The notion of a move seems much more believable in May.

Yesterday I finished writing chapter 14 of The Mercy Hour. It's Thanksgiving in that fictional realm and late November in Michigan is difficult to capture when you're in a May mood. The contradiction of those realities is soothed at least a little bit though as it's awfully easy to dwell in the imagination in the spring.

An Unchecked List

2010-04-30T16:27:00.004-05:00

A storm's coming.

No, that wasn't a metaphysical statement spoken in a hushed tone. A real storm is coming. According to the online radar, it should hit right around the time I will walk out of this building to my car and drive home. Convenient. I do love a good storm though, especially one with plenty of volume.

I didn't sign in here to talk about the weather so let's move on. I signed in to talk about a list. The list. The "do before I get old and/or die" list. Some might call it a bucket list although my aversion to anything Jack Nicholson related keeps me from adopting the term. I've kept such a list for ten or more years. It's been revised a handful of times and each version is kept for posterity. Occasionally there's an item that doesn't make the new list as the desire to fulfill it has passed and it no longer holds significance for me. A few nights ago I retrieved all the versions from my desk drawer and read through them.

Hold a master's degree in English or writing
Live near the ocean
Kayak in Lake Michigan and Lake Superior
Publish a novel
Learn to play piano
Visit England, Ireland, Italy, France, Hawaii
Hike at Porcupine Mountains and Grand Teton & Yellowstone National Parks
Get married
Ride in a hot air balloon
Write a non-fiction faith-themed book
Write a biography

These are some, not all, of the ones still to be fulfilled.

So few lines have a checkmark beside them...
Sail on the ocean
See U2 in concert
Live by myself
Hike at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore
Teach RCIA at a parish
Travel to Niagra Falls
Crochet a blanket
Write a novel

I decided not to revise the list this time around. The desires that have been left unpursued, not just unfulfilled, sadden me the most. I know that not every wish and endeavor will come to fruition. Certainly I'm learning to live with a bit of failure from day to day and that helps me keep my hope firmly anchored where it belongs. Not to have tried though, not to have pursued... I can't live with that from day to day. I won't.

Words to Live By

2010-04-22T13:34:00.005-05:00

"Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset." (St. Francis de Sales)

"And let the peace of Christ reign in your hearts." (Colossians 3:15a)

"We pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won, but exact their dues of work and self denial, anxiety and discouragement." (L. M. Montgomery)

Quite unexpectedly, God came through with that clarity and assurance I've been praying for in recent days. A simple observation by someone outside the situation and voila! Clarity. I almost started laughing as the peace I'd lost hold of started coating my heart once again. All that I've allowed to erode under the anxiety and discouragement and sorrow, I want back. I want to be myself again. What joy has arrived as I take steps to leave behind things that are in no way easy to leave behind. A friendship, a ministry, a role in which I have found much reward... it is not a matter of rooting out some terrible thing but of discerning the wisdom of a sacrifice.

Aiming

2010-04-20T14:25:00.004-05:00

"The line is thin between a selfish act and things you do to keep yourself intact." I consider that one of the most insightful lyrics of the countless songs I have heard. It's from "Same Mistakes" by Sara Watkins and the song is a beauty. That particular line resonated with me the first time I listened to it and does so again, perhaps more, this week.

I have a decision to make. It involves work and friendship and priorities. The direction to which I lean changes from day to day. Sometimes in life, thank God, clarity and peace of mind determine a choice and I am able to move forward in that choice with confidence. Sometimes not so much. After feeling convicted to turn in two completely different directions from Sunday to Monday, I began Tuesday with my Bible open on the kitchen table. As there is logic and good reason behind either choice, I felt convicted to seek the choice of love. Which way allows for loving as I should, while which way, valid as it may be, is the more self-serving? "Make love your aim," was St. Paul's reminder to me. Make love your aim...

This doesn't uncomplicate things. This does not even decide things with desirable certainty. But I am given a lens through which to survey the problem, and a purpose to prevail over the handful of other tension-building purposes presently motivating me.

After Midnight

2010-04-15T00:03:00.002-05:00

What am I doing here at 12:04 a.m., listening to She & Him and sliding open the patio door before I sit down at the kitchen counter? Blogging for the first time since Easter, for one thing. I've begun and deleted a few posts in the last week and a half. Each time I begin to gather my thoughts they scatter before I can finish a paragraph, so I'm not promising any coherence in this attempt either.

My sister, with whom I live, is in China for two weeks. This leaves me with a home to myself and plenty of quiet in which to think. I haven't decided if that has proven to be a positive or a negative. It's a bit of both, quite likely. On several occasions lately my mind has been consumed by the idea of living honestly. Easter night and last night were the greatest contributors to this theme, each due to very particular and separate struggles. Let me see if I can explain. It is not the simple opposite of telling lies. Rather, it is the appeal to be honest - stripped, to lack a cover or veil - in answers, in reactions, in interplay. I have this heavy sense of wasting time with pretending. As I catch myself at the start of a pretense, whether with another or with myself, I cannot follow through on it.

It's a terribly unsafe way to live. Vulnerability, risk, misunderstanding - these are its results. But maybe more will come besides... maybe courage, maybe integrity, maybe fewer regrets and more glad-I-took-them chances. Truth faced, even in its bitter or thorny forms, is to be preferred to pretense, isn't it? If nothing else I think I might stand surer in who I am and who I am not, in what I need to give and what I need to receive. Heroines parade through my mind and I see what I'm aiming for in this. Cassandra Mortmain, Emily Byrd Starr, Lily Bart as an antithesis... Lucy Honeychurch most of all.

"...let yourself go. You are inclined to get muddled, if I may judge from last night. Let yourself go. Pull out from the depths those thoughts that you do not understand, and spread them out in the sunlight and know the meaning of them."
(E M Forster, A Room With a View)

Alleluia!

2010-04-04T01:22:00.003-05:00

I am spending the first hours of Easter morn baking a few dozen cupcakes, dancing to David Crowder Band in my kitchen and basking in the lingering jubilation of the Easter Vigil Mass. Tonight I witnessed 8 children be baptized and 5 adults enter the full communion of the Catholic Church and receive Confirmation and Eucharist. Tonight I remembered exactly why I love serving in the RCIA ministry. It was a glorious night. It is a glorious morning. I hope you find it so as well.

"Yesterday, I was crucified with Him;
Today, I am glorified with Him;
Yesterday, I died with Him;
Today, I am quickened with Him;
Yesterday, I was buried with Him;
Today, I rise with Him."

(from an Easter sermon by St. Gregory Nazianzen)

Keeping Vigil

2010-04-03T08:37:00.004-05:00

"Are you sure He said three days? Maybe you're remembering wrong."

"I'm pretty sure. Wish I was wrong though."

I wonder if any such conversation occurred between the disciples on that first Holy Saturday. It is the full day of Christ being dead in the tomb. The day of waiting, trying to avoid doubt, remembering all the things He said and promised. It must have been a terribly long day. If I were in that locked room with Mary and the eleven remaining disciples, I'd probably have been grumbling with impatience. "Why not this morning? Yesterday and last night were awful enough, why must Jesus make us wait any longer? If He's coming back as He said He would, why not this morning? It's the sabbath, after all, so wouldn't today be appropriate? What is tomorrow? Sunday? Sundays mean nothing to us. He should have risen today." It's sad how easily I can imagine myself making these comments.

But with the death and Resurrection of Christ, God was doing something entirely new. Truly Sunday meant nothing to the world in the days when Christ walked the earth. The pagan religions certainly held it in no special regard, it was simply another day of the week. The Jewish people had their holy sabbath from Friday sundown through Saturday. What was Sunday to them? This reality in itself reveals the radical newness of the divine work of the Paschal Mystery. With the Resurrection, God gave us a new holy day. He sanctified Sunday as the weekly anniversary of His defeat of sin and death, making it a great high feast for all who belong to Christ. The influence of Christ is unstoppable and so we find Sunday to be 'different' from all other days of the week even among those who do not worship God or practice the Chrsitian faith.

Indeed God did something new and when God does something new it is on His terms - His wise and perfect terms. His terms often involve plenty of waiting time for our part. With the waiting comes a choice: grumble against God's ways, perhaps mysterious, inconvenient or difficult, and try impatiently to move things along by our own will or keep vigil. The two approaches to waiting could not be more different. Keeping vigil as we wait upon the Lord to fulfill His promises and carry out His will implies so much. Hope- for why keep vigil if you have not the hope that what you are waiting for will come through in the end? Trust and surrender- placing that which we wait for into the hands of God, into the secure and steady grip of His love. Patience- refusing to demand God perform on our terms, we peacefully allow Him to take the lead, make the move and direct the work. A Prayerful Spirit- our vigil might not be free of questions or doubts or pain, but by prayer we bring all of that to the feet of our Lord; "with confidence [we] draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 4:16).

This is a day of vigil. Indeed, each day is opportunity to keep vigil for we are all waiting on the Lord. For answers to prayers, for guidance, for mercy and ultimately for Him to welcome us into eternal life, we keep vigil. On the wood of the Cross we kneel at the feet of the enthroned Resurrected Christ.

A Good Night

2010-04-02T20:18:00.003-05:00

The patio door is open and there is a soft shower falling on the wood of the deck. It is the accompaniment to my thoughts. The weather has had 4 different faces in the course of this Good Friday and I have to say that this is my favorite so far.

Good Friday seems so purposely paced compared to the busyness that will come tomorrow and the rejoicing celebration waiting for us on Sunday. I can almost feel the Father's hand on my shoulder, slowing me down as He points toward the Cross. "Do not pass it by unobserved. Look upon it. Look upon my Son. Let it sink in. There is so much wonder, so much greatness in Easter that cannot be perceived if this is not first observed. Don't skip ahead in the story. The glory that eclipses suffering will come soon enough; enter into the suffering first. The suffering that was for you, the suffering that emptied my Son of life, the suffering that looked like defeat to all without faith; this is what digs the depths found in the Resurrection."

See from His Head, His Hands, His Feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingled down;

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet?

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

(from "Crucifixion to the World by the Cross of Christ" by Isaac Watts)

Upon Holy Thursday Night

2010-04-01T21:48:00.003-05:00

I really, really wanted to write a Holy Thursday blog. The Triduum - these most holy days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday - is the peak of my year each year. It is the culmination of so much work and prayer and efforts and more work for the RCIA process. It is approached via 40 days of sacrifice and contemplation. It is the summit of this strenuous walk through the mysteries of faith that takes place in each liturgical year.

I'll be honest though, in my heart I feel like I'm still roaming the valley below rather than nearing the summit. I don't like writing from the valley. At Mass tonight, the tension between the difficult and unresolved and the blessed and wondrous was nearly too much for me. I find now that I am unable to succinctly say all that I'd like to say. And maybe that's alright. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow. Maybe I ought to just focus on one thing tonight. For the sake of a little peace of heart and because I won't be able to think straight for too much longer as the nighttime pain reliever is beginning to do battle with this monstrous headache of mine.

What I kept coming around to as I contemplated Holy Thursday and as I prayed at Mass was the incredible gift that the priesthood has been to me. I'm not even talking broad spectrum, 'the Church could not survive without the priesthood' appreciation. I could expound upon the necessity of the priesthood, the beauty and gift of Christ's ministers, the indispensible link between them and the Sacraments. But such catechetical themes aren't actually on my mind. Today I gave a lot of thought to my friends, the priests.

Among people of my aquaintance, and I'm sure this is true for so many, there are plenty of individuals who either have no personal experience with priests, off-putting experiences with priests, or downright negative experiences with priests. Each time I discover this to be true of someone I am struck with fresh force by how radically this is not true for me. In my 28 years, I have accumulated innumerable holy encounters, blessed friendships, and upbuilding influences all through priests.

Fr. Ray Zuegner
Fr. Mike Steber
Fr. Dave Pivonka
Fr. Dan Pattee
Fr. Robb Jurkovich
Fr. Mike Chenier
Fr. Robbie Favazza
Fr. Jay Mello
Fr. Mark Vandersteeg

That's my little litany, which I am certain is missing some important names. The presence of these men in my life at various stages and circumstances is a simple matter of Christ making Himself present to me. As teachers, as preachers, as friends, these men deserve my thanks and respect, my prayers and service.

Christ is my priest - my High Priest. He ministers to me; He extends grace and forgiveness to me; He admonishes and encourages me; He challenges me with truth; He intercedes for me; He works for my eternal salvation. Christ is my priest, and He shares His priesthood with men of this world that He might continue to walk among us and lay down His life for us.

"If we had faith, we would see God hidden in the priest like a light behind glass, like wine mixed with water." (St. John Vianney, Patron of Priests)

A Voice Shall Sound

2010-03-30T13:53:00.004-05:00

Each morning I start my day with three things: a shower, St. Patrick's Lorica prayer, and reading the day's Mass readings and a meditation on them. I don't function well without the shower first. When I skip the prayer and Scriptures, the morning might go alright but the rest of the day seems to fall apart. Starting my day with God and His Word, that's the anchor of my day. On the days when I set it aside and go about my business without paying heed to the Lord, in the back of my mind I know I've done myself a disservice. Pride can rationalize so many things, including excusing myself from prayer, but it can't truly silence the Holy Spirit who dwells in me.

Yesterday morning the meditation was on the first reading, from Isaiah, and it closed with a little prayer. The words of the prayer were simple enough yet they stopped me in my tracks. "Increase my perception of your power, of your plan..." That phrase has been sounding in my ears since I read it. "Increase my perception..." Not speak louder, Lord, or move in bigger ways, or give me more knowledge of your plans, or be clearer in your guidance. Increase my perception; I feel like someone has physically turned me to look upon the same horizon from a new direction.

For one, this perspective on the "I need to know You're near and You're active in my life" prayer has me breathing a long sigh of relief. Like standing in a cool, steady shower after weeks of heat, I am fortified. The question of whether He's near, whether He's moving and acting and working and blessing - that question isn't even necessary. It's a matter of perceiving God - standing in the stronghold of confidence in Him, awakening my senses to Him.

For another, it casts a light on something I must face. To perceive another's nearness or handiwork, without them announcing it, requires a great deal of familiarity. I can't recognize one of Bach's "Unacccompanied Cello Suites" used in a television commercial if I haven't listened carefully to those compositions again and again. I can't see a small painting and know it's a detail of a Monet if I haven't already looked upon the larger work of art. I can't hear the influence of St. Thomas Aquinas in my friend's discussions if I haven't had at least a bit of experience with his work myself. The correlation between perception of the Lord and familiarity with Him is indisputable. And my familiarity with the Lord - not so much knowledge of Him or a personal history of experiences but 'in the present' intimacy - is not what it once was. As I consider my perception of His presence and movements, I know this is true. Faced with this admission, I found myself at the Eucharistic chapel at 10 o'clock last night. I just needed to be near Him. As I sat before my Savior, I thought about how amazingly easy it used to be to perceive His closeness, notice His movements, hear His voice, detect His guiding hand, rest in His protection... I could blame plenty of things in the last several years for robbing me of that intimacy, and while they all might rightfully carry a share of that blame I know that ultimately I didn't fight for it.

I feel like I'm fighting now. My senses are heightened. The prayer, "Lord, increase my perception of You," is repeated. This morning I found myself praying differently than I have for months, maybe even years. Lord, grant me the grace I need for today; the grace for the spiritual battle of today; the protection I need today; the mercy I require today; the clarity I need today; the wisdom for living today; the faith, hope and love in order to believe, trust and serve the way You call me to today. Lord, increase my perception of You today. Not Your plan for my future, not the blessings I'm looking for 'someday' but only what You are doing, how you are guiding, what you are asking of me here and now.

"For thus said the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel: By waiting and by calm you shall be saved, in quiet and in trust your strength lies... The Lord will give you the bread you need and the water for which you thirst. No longer will your Teacher hide himself, but with your own eyes you shall see your Teacher, While from behind, a voice shall sound in your ears: 'This is the way; walk in it,' when you would turn to the right or to the left."

(Isaiah 30:15, 20-21)

Put On a Happy Face

2010-03-26T14:12:00.008-05:00

Things I think of when putting on a smile requires a little extra help:

I'm spending the weekend with these two.

10 days until Opening Day!

Completely to my surprise and against my normal tastes, I am thoroughly enjoying this book.

Though the temperature dropped today, it really isn't that long until I can revisit trails like this one.

And my friend has decided we should travel a bit of Europe next year. It's all hypothetical for now but the daydreams of destinations I've long waited to see hold thrilling anticipation.

In a Fortnight

2010-03-25T13:43:00.004-05:00

I was about to type "In Two Weeks" as the post title but then realized this was a prime opportunity to use the sorely neglected term, "fortnight." Anyway... What's happening in a fortnight, you ask? Well, my sister and one of our best friends are flying to Beijing, China. I haven't quite wrapped my head around this yet. Jessica (that's my sister) has gone on some extensive, out of the country journeys but never one that will quite literally land her a day apart from her life here. (The whole 13 hour time difference truly baffles me. I mean, I get it but I don't really get it.)

Jessica and Amy are traveling to China to serve for two weeks at China Little Flower, a facility that cares for orphans in need of specialized care, abandoned infants, and even babies expected to die but who deserve to be loved and provided for until that happens. The pictures alone for this organization's website are enough to melt the heart. They are doing amazing, thankless, God-honoring work. It is the sort of work that grabs hold of my sister's merciful heart.

I guess this blog post is just to state how crazy proud I am of my sister. If I could learn to love as she loves... She has no idea how beautiful she is.

And as long as I'm here and you're here, it wouldn't hurt to ask something of you, right? Prayers. Please pray for their safety in traveling, for their jet lag to be as tolerable as possible so they can serve as they desire to serve, and for the children they will encounter during their time at China Little Flower.

If you'd like to learn a little more about this organization, here's the website link.

And if you'd care to support the rather pricey service trip that Jessica and Amy are taking, please email me at csebsch@hotmail.com with "China Little Flower" in the subject line and I'll provide Jessica's mailing address. They're doing this entirely on their own, not through an organization or sponsorship, and have worked terribly hard to save money and raise money in small ways. They don't know I'm putting this request on this blog and I didn't plan on including it when I started this post, but there it is.

Leaving It There

2010-03-24T14:55:00.004-05:00

To give you an idea of the expansiveness of my family: Yesterday, my oldest nephew turned 25. Today, a nephew somewhere in the middle turned 9. On Sunday, my youngest nephew will be 3 weeks old. There are 4 more nephews and 4 nieces filling the spaces in between those boys. I've been an aunt since I was 3 1/2 years old.

I am not the same aunt now as I was then. That's the thought that came to me as I was writing out yet another birthday card and signed it, "Love, Auntie Carrie." The manner of my love, the things I'd like to teach them, the ways I hope to be an example, and the wishes and worries I have for them... oh, how that all has changed. This train of thought curved around to other realms of my life - being a sister to my 6 older siblings, a daughter to my parents, a friend to my friends. I considered how much growth is required in order for those relationships to not just endure but to bear fruit. With growth and change and maturity, relationships are richer. Without... it strikes me as unnatural to fight against change and growth for the sake of "keeping things the same." It's a losing battle. It doesn't mean I don't fall into that well-intentioned mistake at times, but if I take a step back and look at things with some clarity I have to conclude that nothing stays the same and nothing should. There are realities that are constant and lasting but such characteristics do not imply sameness.

The place where I find a paradox is faith. In Scripture we are instructed on the importance of leaving behind the ways of a child in order to mature as adults in Christ (see 1 Corinthians 13) but also the necessity of having faith like a child (see Matthew 18 and Mark 10). I've always struggled with that concept of having childlike faith. I'm one for going deeper, for learning and understanding more, for having tangible evidence that I've matured in faith. Seeing childishness as a vice in most areas of life, it's tough to view it as a blessing when it comes to faith. I can explain the concept of childlike faith with my mind but have difficulty practicing it with my heart.

Occasionally I get a heart-reaching glimpse at the truth though. In RCIA class this week I taught on the topic of prayer. A broad topic that encompassed a lot of things. When I teach, I attempt to read the expressions of the candidates as they listen. Blank stares are tough to work with but anything else can be a real help to know if I should continue explaining a point or if it's time to move on. At this class there was a moment where the need to explain further was blatantly obvious in the face of one candidate. I'd said that there was a significant difference between only bringing our needs to the Lord in prayer versus actually leaving our needs with the Lord in prayer. As I expounded on that statement it dawned on me that here was an instance of having 'faith like a child.'

When a child, full of trust, brings a need to a parent, the child leaves the need there in Dad's or Mom's hands. He has no reason to continue to be bothered by it for he knows that his parent will take care of him. This is easily seen in the child's faith as well. I have heard the prayers of my nieces and nephews, simple and self-assured. They are not weighed down by the things they have just whispered to God. I, on the other hand, bring plenty of needful requests to God. I have the knowledge that He loves me, that He will care for me, that He loves everyone I might be praying for, and yet I usually go out of the room (so to speak) carrying those same petitions in my arms. It is not so much an entrusting of needs to the Lord as an effort to show them to Him, like I'm making sure He's aware of them. Being the capable, mature adult that I am (that's a debate for another time), I go on attempting to answer the petitions myself. I go on striving for resolutions, worrying over dilemmas, dwelling in sorrows. I do not leave them with the Lord! How very, very unchildlike of me.

I am not promoting a lack of growth in the Christian soul. My faith should not look the same as it did when I was seven or seventeen or even twenty-seven, though that be merely a year ago. My prayer life should not look the same. The shape of the light that Christ radiates through my life should not be the same.

Again, it is not sameness that is to be attempted. This time it is retention.

Retention of the trust I had as a child, of the confidence in the Lord's love which used to not just sustain me but overflow into rich joy in my soul.

Retention of the willingness to surrender - a willingness that allows me to tumble into the Lord's warm, capable hands and, when He helps me stand back up, to not pick up the needs and sorrows that fell into His hands along with me.

On St. Joseph

2010-03-19T09:27:00.007-05:00

This week especially I am feeling entirely too wrapped up in myself. If there is any group of people capable of unwrapping a person from himself, so to speak, it is the saints. The saints - the men and women who are heroes of the faith, the holy ones of God. They are those who have reached the destination and reward we hope to reach. This is why they are worth studying, emulating and entreating for their intercession.

Today is the Feast of St. Joseph. This man holds a special place in my heart as the patron of my university household (sort of a faith-based sorority). I overlooked him until those years at Franciscan. This isn't surprising as St. Joseph is a man easily overlooked. He speaks no words recorded in the Gospels. He appears only in the first chapters of Matthew and Luke and never thereafter. We do not have record of his death. Yet he is the standard for men, for husbands and fathers, indeed for all the lay faithful.

In a world where we are constantly speaking, texting, messaging, etc., silence is not only difficult to achieve but sorely undervalued. We equate silence with stillness. While that can be the case (perhaps needs to be the case more often), stillness is not the only circumstance for silence. For as much as St. Joseph can be called a man of silence, he is equally a man of action. A decision based on righteousness (Matthew 1:19); a change based on a message from God (Matthew 1:24); a journey based on another message from God (Matthew 2:13-14); the actions of Joseph are recorded with great simplicity because his following of God's will was simple. Discern His will and do it. No arguments, no complaining, no doubting.

His place in the Holy Family as foster-father of Jesus, husband of Mary, protector and provider of the family raises him to be the example for all husbands and fathers. He lays out a gold standard for women waiting for their husbands and women actively serving and loving their husbands. His obedience to the commands of God, humble endurance of hardship, total dedication to Christ, and tender honor of Mary render him a model for every member of the Christian laity.

Joseph, to me, is a man of courageous faith, boldness of spirit, and steadiness of character. He does not do these things loudly or in a manner that garners attention to himself. Joseph is the living, breathing fulfillment of the pledge, ad majorem Dei gloriam - to the greater glory of God.

Oh, St. Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the throne of God, I place in you all my interests and desires. Oh, St. Joseph, do assist me by your powerful intercession, and obtain for me from your divine Son all spiritual blessings, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. So that, having engaged here below your heavenly power, I may offer my thanksgiving and homage to the most loving of Father. Oh, St. Joseph, I never weary contemplating you, and Jesus assleep in your arms; I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press Him close in my name and kiss His fine head for me and ask Him to return the kiss when I draw my dying breath. St. Joseph, patron of departing souls, pray for us. Amen.
(a 16th century (or older) prayer for St. Joseph's assistance)

Shoulders

2010-03-18T12:46:00.002-05:00

"Therefore, encourage one another and build one another up, as indeed you do." (1 Thessalonians 5:11)

Oh what would I do without friends? Shoulders to hug, shoulders to lean on, shoulders to laugh on, shoulders to cry on. I am feeling utterly grateful for them today. There is an aspect of loneliness to the situation I'm dealing with right now that could overwhelm me if I allow it. It could obscure the reality that I am not alone, that I am well loved.

Friends are God's greeting cards; His notes of well-wishes and encouragement, intended to give you a smile, a sigh of relief and a bit of confidence that all will come right.

Questioning

2010-03-17T08:25:00.005-05:00

A situation has arisen that has me questioning nearly everything. My motives and intentions, my ability to love as I ought to love, my friendships, my work; I feel like I'm being subjected to a scrutinizing exam to which I have none of the answers. That all sounds a bit dramatic which is something I don't like to hear in my own words. I tend to get that way when I am feeling this low. Let's put it this way: it's tough to be hated. How am I to react to that? Apology, guilt, shock, sadness, anger, defensiveness - each of them have marched into my heart and are taking turns at the top of the stack.

Of course the words of Christ keep flashing into my brain, "turn the other cheek"... and the work of mercy to bear wrongs patiently. This isn't to say I have no responsibility in this situation or that I am wholly without guilt. Yet I have never felt more keenly what Christ was talking about, that there would be circumstances that call for meekness instead of anger, patience instead of rash reactions, sacrifice for reparation instead of defense of pride. Only He knows what I'll need in order to actually do those things; they certainly aren't going to come out of my own strength or goodness.

For now I'd settle for some confidence in the "this too shall pass" mantra.

One Good Thing About This World

2010-03-11T13:40:00.005-06:00

The rain is landing percussively on the office building's roof and dancing on the adjacent blacktop. It is a rhythmic sound of spring and it is making me smile as I putter through the usual Thursday tasks on my desk. It is spring! For it does not rain in winter, not where I live. The trees have that stripped naked look which only spring can cause. I am daydreaming of tennis matches at the park and bike rides on the county trail. Those activities are still a ways off but I find it easy to believe they will be here in a blink of an eye while I listen to this snowbank melting rain.

I'm starting over on a few things today. The daily workout routine I committed myself to but let slide during the last several days (with good reason; I had a newborn nephew to visit and hold instead of make time for exercise); the fasting from TV for Lent which I cheated on yesterday because I just could not forgo the season finale of Psych; chapter 13 of The Mercy Hour and the critical plot juncture therein; praying Morning Prayer each day before work (why do I convince myself I'll get through the day okay without starting it in prayer? So lame.); deterimned patience with a few particulars of life that I cannot do much about at present (impatience has been reigning supreme lately)... What would life be without these "starting over" days?

"That is one good thing about this world... there are always sure to be more springs," remarked Anne Shirley and I must agree. We live prodigal lives. Spending thriftlessly our time and energy, indulging in what will not satisfy, and having to return again and again to what will. We must cycle round to spring before we reach the end of five, ten or all of our years and realize we lingered in winter because it was easier to stay there. Newness and freshness can be encircling us and we stay tucked under our coverings of old habits and weaknesses.

The other night I stretched out on my bed for a good think after reading another chapter of one of my favorite books, I Capture the Castle. I thought about the layers of effects that book has had on me. While reading a favorite chapter I'd realized I wasn't quite feeling what I'd felt in the past about the story. Not a lesser reaction or affection, but different. Instantly this realization produced sadness and a wish for all that I'd ever thought and felt about the book to remain the same. It took some effort to accept that this was neither possible nor preferable. For an effect to be efficacious, for a change to make change, there must be a result. There must be new aspects to my thoughts and feelings if, as I claim, this book really did have ramifications on my thoughts and feelings. The book, of course, is only one example. An adventure, a job, a friendship, a prayer, any undertaking... they change us (or should) and yet it is so easy to mourn the "old me" that changed instead of rejoicing in what is made new.

The Crown of Sweetness

2010-03-06T21:03:00.003-06:00

I listened in on Heaven today. In a little wooden pew in the echoing chapel of the Carmelite monastery in Denmark, WI, I listened. Hidden from view, the nuns sang their prayers to the Lord. They could not see us; we could not see them. They did not sing for us; they were not performing. They prayed with heartfelt sincerity and seraphic voices. Beauty seemed to cascade over the high open spaces of the chapel, lulling me into peace. My mind was raptured by images of the Bridegroom rejoicing over His bride. How the Lord must delight in the devotion of these humble, holy women. They are wholly His. He treasures them, thinks them beautiful, loves them with His tender heart.
"devotion is the crown of sweetness, the queen of virtues, the perfection of charity. If charity is milk, devotion is the cream; if charity is a plant, devotion is the flower; if charity is a precious stone, its brilliance is devotion; if charity is a costly balsam, devotion is its fragrance, an odor of sweetness, which consoles men and makes the Angels to rejoice." St. Francis de Sales

Sunlight

2010-03-01T16:47:00.007-06:00

I am soaking in this sudden flood of sunshine like the driest of soils. The five day forecast: mostly sunny, mostly sunny, mostly sunny, mostly sunny, mostly sunny. We may hit 40 degrees in northeastern WI by Friday. March does not always arrive with such a glorious meterological upswing. This March (or its first week at the very least) seems to know better than to behave otherwise.

As any move toward Spring is apt to, this March appears to be busting at the seams with potential. Melting, greening, growing - true to the season, true to the peak of Lent, true to my life at present. Lent is plunging me into the goodness of serving and the necessity of trust. God's graces are bearing new fruit, restoring in me the joy of soul that used to sing of its own accord.

I suppose this mood is nothing unusual. Yellow sunlight pouring through cold window panes has this feverish effect on most people. Yet, I do feel most unusual. No, unusual is not the word. I feel younger than at the start of winter, or even at the start of last fall, summer or spring. I am regressing in the best sort of way, to a better version of myself, a truer rendering. My, this is hard to capture and communicate! I feel... I feel like a walking psalm.

My heart overflows with a goodly theme...

Thou dost show me the path of life; in thy presence there is fulness of joy, in thy right hand are pleasures for evermore...

Restore to me the joy of thy salvation...

I will awake the dawn!

The pastures of the wilderness drip, the hills gird themselves with joy, the meadows clothe themselves with flocks, the valleys deck themselves with grain, they shout and sing together for joy...

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom...

I hear a voice I had not known: "I relieved your shoulder of the burden; your hands were freed from the basket. In distress you called, and I delivered you; I answered you in the secret place of thunder"...

Tired of Everything Sensible

2010-02-28T22:55:00.002-06:00

Chapter twelve of The Mercy Hour is proving to be a challenge. I feel beastly putting my lead character through such lows. I'm writing her into restoration but it's a long road when she starts from such a broken state. My determination remains as high as the challenge though. The experience of writing this book is remarkably different from the first time around. Full of Days was so experimental, riding on the question, "Could I actually do this?" From the most well-intentioned folks, I heard again and again that "just that you're trying" is impressive enough. I was encouraged to be proud of the attempt no matter the result. I waffled on how I felt about such comments. Sometimes the trying really was enough, or nearly. This time? This time I want to laugh at anyone who resorts to those handouts of edification. The question of whether I can has been answered. It is only about whether I will and how well.

My imagination is spilling over. I'd like to tuck myself away in an upstairs room with a window seat and a good lamp. As Anne Shirley so aptly put it, "I just feel tired of everything sensible and I'm going to let my imagination run riot for the summer." But I think I'll start with spring.

Bursting

2010-02-24T07:33:00.004-06:00

Yesterday - oh what a day it became by its end. I typed up the new pages of The Mercy Hour I'd written while on vacation. Each line delighted me. Sometimes I don't remember exactly what I wrote for a particular conversation or scenario and when I reread it there comes a wondrous sense of self-discovery. One of my favorite things about writing the book on paper first is the chance to improve upon it right away as I type it. I come across a sentence in which I know what I mean to say but there is no way the reader will likewise know. It must be reworded, rephrased, rethought! Those sentences stare me down with a challenge in their gaze. Do better! I love that challenge every single time it arises.

In the process of typing those pages (I'm in the middle of chapter eleven now!) I had an epiphanic flash regarding Full of Days, the finished, unpublished manuscript. The start of Full of Days has never sat well with me. There are few things I know about writing well but one is that the beginning of the story must grab the reader, drawing them into its tale with only a few paragraphs. The beginning of my manuscript is weak. If I'm honest with myself, I don't think the first paragraphs would cause me to read the rest of the book. As the first three chapters often make up the sample I'm able to send to publishers, I've wondered if this uncompelling beginning has been a principal factor in the manuscript rejections. But to return to yesterday! Seemingly out of nowhere, for my imagination was consumed by the characters of The Mercy Hour, it dawned on me how to rework the start of Full of Days without eliminating anything essential. Why couldn't I have thought of it sooner? Like, before I ever sent it to publishers! Ah well, I mustn't complain about the timing of the insight. Who knows how it might help me in future submissions.

After work last night I was desperate to make the changes which were already written out in my imagination. Three hours at my favorite coffeehouse and I not only had all the new material typed up but also the first few pages of Full of Days rewritten to my great satisfaction. I don't know if there are any necessary words besides "giddy" to describe my general spirit last night. The energy provided by some good hours of writing are comparable to all those wonderful endorphins produced during a great workout. There was no going to sleep at my usual time. My mind could not consent to rest. Instead I finished reading an L. M. Montgomery novel. This brought me no closer to sleep as the beauty of her writing and the magnificence of the story stirred up a veritable stew of emotions.

There are particular books that tear at my writer's soul. Excellence, beauty, effectiveness - a work like this assaults me. In reading it, I am thrilled to be a "writer," for whatever that's worth, and at the same moment pulled down into doubt of whether I can ever write anything meaningful and worthwhile. The events of last night - the new pages, rewriting the start of the manuscript, reading a gorgeous novel - somehow overwhelmed me. Last night was one of those "fully alive" nights. You know, those moments when you are engaged with life to the fullest, far beyond the engagement in the usual minutes and hours compiling your days. You are fully yourself alive. They are glorious times, are they not? This particular one has left me with the feeling of an old wine skin that cannot possibly contain itself much longer. The emotion... the thrill and urgency that are simultaneously elating and burdening me will not recede. I could scream, or sing, or sprint. I could burst into a thousand twinkling pieces to settle in the sky with no hope of return. I could write. I will write.

Only 10 days ago?

2010-02-22T15:16:00.005-06:00

Was it really only 10 days ago that I left these sights behind? Perusal of the pictures brings about a lot of sighs. Beyond the views, I desperately miss the calm. They weren't lazy days. They were calm. My mind was at ease... happy. I was a writer and I didn't have to fight against a half dozen other titles in order to be a writer.

Face to Face

2010-02-18T07:25:00.003-06:00

Oh, Lent, you are much like that dear old friend or family member who it is most difficult to like but impossible not to love for their great worth. That one who is brutally honest (always with the best of intentions), not softening any blows or dressing up the truth. This is what this season of penance, prayer and self-examination does to me: it looks me in the eye and speaks the truth.

I happened upon this statement by St. Therese of Liseux: "Look Jesus in the face. There you will see how He loves us." She was speaking of Jesus found on the Cross, in particular. I'd add, "there you will see how you are to love." During Lent, if we have courage enough to take it, we have the chance to look into the face of our Savior and see not only His love but ours as well - or lack thereof. Love... it's a fluffy, comfy word in mainstream culture but this love that St. Therese discerns in the face of our Lord is neither fluffy nor comfy. It is every virtue practiced, every commandment obeyed, every sacrifice willingly offered, every selfish desire overturned for selflessness. That is love.

When I explain purgatory to the RCIA classes one thing I focus on is the nature of the suffering that occurs during that period of purification. Among the causes for pain in purgatory is the total self-awareness the soul gains of all the ways he or she might have been more ready for Heaven - all the opportunities of love that were negligently overlooked or willfully refused. How painful to realize not only the sheer number of missed chances to love (that is, to be like Christ) but also the consequences rippling out from them.

Lent can be a little slice of purgatory, I suppose. Face to face with my Savior, I can also stand face to face with myself and see just how much I am "found in Christ" and how much I remove myself from Him by my actions and inactions.

Lord, save us from ourselves.

Preferences

2010-02-15T16:56:00.003-06:00

As a typical single, romantically minded, literature loving girl, I am well aware of the standards among my kind. I find, however, I'm not the most apt to adhere to standards.

My all time favorite Austen is Persuasion, not Pride & Prejudice. I'd much prefer Mr. Knightley to be my hero over Mr. Darcy. Emily of New Moon is a more kindred spirit to me than Anne with an "e." (Though I'd fall head over heels for a real life Gilbert Blythe any day of the week.) I think guys named Rick have a built in tendency toward skeeziness so I've never trusted Humphrey Bogart's character in "Casablanca." Canadians have a better chance of falling into my own personal "intriguing" or "sexy" categories than any man from continental Europe. I appreciate boldness, not flirtation. And long walks on the beach are always better solo than with another person.

I was thinking over the weekend about how set I am in my preferences. My "types," if you will, whether it be in regard to books, movies, travels, hobbies or men, are well defined. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? That is, does it make me capable of focusing on what is most likely a well-suited fit for me without wasting my time? Or does it increase the chances that I will overlook unexpected possibilities for joy/fun/satisfaction?

Of course the thought that my preferences could be potentially damaging to my life brought me around to the additonal thought that I may very well be outside of other people's set preferences, too. Ouch.

And Now We Wait... and Wait

2010-02-11T19:41:00.002-06:00

Well, Full of Days is officially submitted to Sophia Institute Press, the one and only Catholic publisher I have found who actually prints a few fiction titles once in a while. Sending a manuscript submission always takes a lot out of me. I hit send on that email or attach the postage to that envelope with shaking hands. The panicked sort of thrill leaves me scattered and on edge for at least the rest of the day. There is this immense sense of helplessness after sending it out. The ball is in the publisher's court, and will likely lie still on the floor for a couple of months at least before they make any sort of move. Heck, Moody Publishing has held onto the ball for the better part of a year now. If I knew any way to get that ball rolling, you can bet I'd be doing it.

Enough with the ball metaphor. I said about four different prayers before sending that email minutes ago. When I'd repeated "Jesus, I trust in You" enough times to grasp a brief flash of calm, the submission was sent on its way. What kind of reception it will be given is next to impossible to know.

I think a glass of wine is in order. Or two. Starting now.

And another thing...

2010-02-09T19:43:00.003-06:00

To elaborate on that comment in the last post, that I feel like myself again now that I'm writing: I'd love to say that's an exaggeration. Perhaps the proper thing to say is that writing just makes me happier but even without it I am happy. I mean, I have a whole heck of a lot of good things in this little life of mine. Between the family, the friends, the stable job, the work in the Church... am I being ungrateful to set such stock in writing? Maybe. I don't know what kind of analysis should made. All I know is that I feel most alive, most engaged with life, when I am writing. Do I need more of a reason for this desire to write or for my efforts to get published or for my restlessness when I have to set aside the writing for other responsibilities?

The other night someone asked me what is most important to me about writing. It took me a few tries to really hit on what he wanted to know and it came down to this: God made me a writer. He knew all along I'd be a writer. When I began to write it was not a planned change for my entire life. It happened during a period when my plans were falling apart and I had no idea what I ought to be doing or could expect to be doing in the future. I was unhappy, to put it nicely, and in need of something to satiate the frustration. I can't even identify the starting point for what became Full of Days, my first novel. I don't remember exactly how the idea formed or how seriously I took it at first. By God's grace and encouragement, I did not ignore the notion of writing that book. As I proceeded with the attempt (honestly, until it was more than halfway finished I only considered it an attempt to write a book without any particular expectations for it), my whole self became engrossed in the work. There was joy in the hours I dedicated to writing, while there continued to be disappointment in most of the other hours. In hindsight, I think it was by God's great wisdom that the beginnings of my writing endeavors were in the context of all that frustration and disappointment. The roots were able to take hold and grow strong so that even when other things changed for the better and life brought new and good opportunities, the writing wasn't forsaken. I had too thoroughly tasted and loved the experience of writing to deem it a temporary occupation now that I had other things to do. It stuck. The desire is not lessened; the satisfaction continues to sustain me; the determination and hope remain.

When I began writing, I couldn't have known what would come of it or what else my life would include. Heck, I still don't know what will come of any of it. As I write at present, I still wonder what else will enter my life - what jobs, what relationships, what experiences - but I don't wonder if I will continue to write. I am me and I will be me, no matter the setting or circumstances. I am a writer.

Living It Up

2010-02-09T11:41:00.002-06:00

Oh, where to begin. This whole vacation thing is really treating me well. Better than I even could have expected. At the moment, I am sitting in the morning sunshine in the kitchen of a chalet in Breckenridge, CO. The boys have just left for a day of skiing, the mom is still sleeping and I have been proofing the rough draft of my chapter-by-chapter summary for a publisher submission. Yesterday I finished that rough draft. The summary is something I've picked away at for the last five months or more. It's been pathetically slow-going. But yesterday, I put in at least four hours, maybe more, and finished the rough draft. Now that is what I'm talking about! That is why I was so eager to take this vacation! I feel like myself again. A writer.

I did take a break in the middle of the afternoon yesterday and wandered around downtown Breckenridge. My first experience of the Rocky Mountains took my breath away. I felt like a child, so excited by everything I saw. Each corner I turned meant another picture to take because it was a fresh angle on the views. The peaks surrounding us are topped with pristine snow, glinting in the sunshine and shrinking the sky. The sky is always the biggest part of the landscape where I come from, but not here. It is the diminutive background to the mountains here.

Being the only "morning person" in the house, it's easy to include silence and prayer first thing upon getting out of bed. Today I cooked breakfast for the rest of them and it was plenty rewarding to see the happiness of three men stumbling down the stairs to follow the smell of food before they're even fully awake. I keep thinking of how God didn't have to do this. He didn't have to make it possible for me to go on this vacation. He didn't have to give us a week of sunshine. He didn't even have to design the landscape to fill us with awe. But He did because He loves so well.

Crazy Person

2010-02-03T21:21:00.002-06:00

Everyone knows the definition of a crazy person. Doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result, yada, yada, yada. And you know, even the most sane, reasonable, practical person can occasionally slip into genuine craziness.

I'm slipping, to be sure. Enjoying the fall, awaiting the crash. I can never decide which hope requires more of: courage or foolishness. I am a fool with courage and that's a risky little combo. Goodness, it's a thrill though when just a smile, a particular smile, can make going crazy sound like exactly what I want to be doing.

Come True

2010-02-01T13:08:00.002-06:00

A few posts ago, I was tossing hypothetical coins into a hypothetical well, making what I acknowledged to be largely self-serving wishes. Among them was the desire for a whole month of Saturdays in which I could write my new book. Maybe I should voice my wishes more often!

Rather unexpectedly, a friend invited me to join a small group on a trip to Breckenridge, CO. As it was a somewhat last minute invitation, my first instinct was to not give it any serious regard. But my friend's generous offer occupied every other thought in my head for the remainder of that day, so the serious regard couldn't be avoided for too long. As the group is traveling there for skiing, of course, and I haven't skied in over 10 years, I thought it'd be silly to tag along but not participate in the fun. And then I thought, "What a great idea to tag along but not participate in the fun!" Translation: for at least part of each of the five days in CO, I could have the chalet to myself while they are skiing. I could write! It might not be a month, but suddenly I was faced with the offer of five "Saturdays" for writing. Once this dawned on me, I could not put aside the idea of accepting my friend's invitation. I told myself not to get my hopes up since there were several obstacles that would need to be overcome if I were to go. One by one, each obstacle worked out smoothly. I was left without any valid reason not to go.

So here I am, six days away from my first visit to the Rocky Mountains; plane ticket purchased; arrangements made; anticipation building. The others in the group are likely wondering if they should feel sorry for me when they're heading out for some adventure on the ski slopes and I'm left to amuse myself at the house. I don't know if I'll be able to convince them not too offer their pity. I only know I won't be in need of it.

Another friend, when I told him about the trip and my excitement about having the time to write, asked why I needed to go away to write. Couldn't I just stay at home and do the same thing? Maybe I should be able to do that, but I just can't. When I am at home, I have other responsibilities, other priorities with rightful claims on my time. It's not as if the only incentive for going to Colorado is the writing hours. There is also the chance to see a breathtakingly beautiful area of the country which I have yet to visit. There's the time that will be spent with several wonderful people (when they aren't on the slopes). There's the fact that the chalet we have for five nights is free of any expense to ourselves. But the writing hours do count as one of the incentives, without a doubt. After months of setting my book aside, of taking it off the priorities list (sometimes with and sometimes without complaint), I feel as if the Lord is saying, "Here you go. Here's a little time for you and your pen and your paper. Take it. Enjoy it. Use it well. And while you're at it, soak in some of the beauty I created in this world and have a grand time with some of the people I've placed in your life."

Maybe my hypothetical wishing well wasn't so hypothetical after all.

As promised...

2010-01-29T12:02:00.002-06:00

Well, I promised pictures from the trip but it's hard to capture the amount of fun we had in only a few shots! So, here's the link to the album of pictures I put up on facebook. This should allow anyone to look at them even if they're not on facebook.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=193459&id=727037570&l=4690e829f1

It truly was a 5 day blessing. And God's been blessing me in odd, surprising ways since then. He keeps catching me off guard and I'm learning to just go with it.

Side by Side

2010-01-25T14:31:00.002-06:00

If you're hoping for a detailed summary of the March for Life excursion, please don't be too disappointed. Certainly, there are plenty of details I could share and anecdotes I could tell, but those are not what is on my mind. I do promise to post some pictures from the journey and event, just not in this particular post.

What is filling my head and heart for the time being is grateful amazement. The goodness of God, His generous heart, continues to catch me off guard. This trip to the March for Life reunited me with some traveling companions of my youth. The experience of partnering with them once more for a faith-based event brought about an eyes-wide-open perception of God's goodness toward me. My teenage years were filled with normal, average teenage experiences for the most part, but they were interwoven with the out of the ordinary as well. The out of the ordinary came in the form of numerous travels, retreats, conferences and gatherings with my fellow Catholic teenagers from the Diocese of Marquette, MI. While I've always known that these contributed a great deal to my formation, I have still managed to underestimate their effects.

For one reason or another, it hit me this past week how much I owe to the Lord for placing me amongst the people and providing for me the experiences of my youth. I grew up with my very own "cloud of witnesses" running with me on every side. What courage was gained from the relationships forged by faith! What might have been different if that faith hadn't been rooted, nurtured and solidified at such a young age! In the last week, as I was plopped into a scene so closely resembling my past, the Holy Spirit opened my eyes to the beauty of my friends.

Beauty.... The joy it effected thankfully had an outlet in the laughter and prayer we were continuously engaged in for the last five days. I ought to give those friends credit for that aspect of my life, too. Learning to laugh, to simply tumble about in humor and enjoyment of each other, came through this group of friends. Then to have these friendships not be merely a memory but a blessing that continues to braid itself into my life with all the other things I am caught up in as an adult, for that I am grateful, to say the least.

"My cup runneth over..." I kept thinking of the Kingdom of God parables that liken the kingdom to a buried treasure or a perfect pearl. Worth everything, priceless, abundant, beautiful; the kingdom of God includes the people in it.

Marching

2010-01-18T15:16:00.006-06:00

I'm a pretty big Third Day fan. I've seen them in concert at least five times, own several albums, can sing along to many of their songs, etc., etc., etc. Even so, perhaps my favorite moment in their concerts is when they perform U2's "When Love Comes to Town." They rock that song. But you know who else rocks that song? U2. Yeah. Anyway, I was thinking about the March for Life coming up on Friday in our nation's captiol. What should pop into my brain but that classic rock & roll tune, "When Love Comes to Town."

When I explained where I was going this week, my 13 year old niece asked, "But why? What's the point of that?" What's the point of over 200,000 individuals of all ages, races and creeds marching through the streets of D.C. to the steps of the Supreme Court on the anniversary of that court's devastating decision in Roe vs. Wade legalizing the more than 49 million murders of unborn children? Does it accomplish anything? Well, I don't know if I can sum up what it accomplishes in the statistical, tangible terms people prefer because the reality is that the positive impact of any public display of pro-life principles is largely unseen. In hidden ways, God uses the willingness of people who make a stand and sacrifice for the culture of life. Can I count up the number of people who, once they witness the March for Life, realize that the number of pro-life Americans is not miniscule? Do I have any clue as to the men and women who might have chosen or encouraged abortion somewhere down the road if not for the seed of truth planted by the sight of the March? Do I have means of knowing if a congressman, a senator or a judge is given a boost of courage to stand their ground in favor of life in their realm of influence?

I don't have numbers or names or exact answers to the skeptical question raised by my niece. I wish I did. I only know that when the streets are flooded with prayerful objectors to the widely accepted culture of death that is plaguing America, it is a matter of Love coming to town. Do we ever have an excuse not to take up an opportunity to bring love to our communities? I hold no doubt that God, who is Love, works in hidden and mysterious ways to filter that love into the hearts of all who participate or witness the March for Life. I cannot speak for their responses to that outpouring of love. I can only hold myself responsible for whether or not I brought any love to town.

Third Day with the brilliant help of Dan Haseltine, Jon Foreman & Robert Randolph

Tossing My Coins

2010-01-13T14:21:00.005-06:00

If I had a wishing well, I'd wish for three things:

1. Moody Publishing to publish Full of Days

2. A month of Saturdays to write The Mercy Hour

3. A Mr. Knightley to be "my Mr. Knightley"

I know, I know. Couldn't I be a tad less selfish in my wishes? Don't I want world peace and a cure for cancer and the unity of the Church? Yeah, of course I do. But I'm figuring that with a purely hypothetical wishing well, it's only hypothetical selfishness. So please, bear with me.

Wish #1... Can I rant for a moment as a completely inexperienced author? Okay. Why hasn't a decision been made by Moody Publishing? Does it seriously take more than 9 months for the editor to reach my manuscript in that pile on his desk? More than 9 months to give me a smiling nod of the head or a frowning shake of the head? I am tired of opening my mailbox each day with baited breath only to find another shopping flyer, electric bill or magazine issue. I am tired of checking my email 57 times a day because I keep believing that one of those times I will see a new message from the editor at Moody. Because I don't have an agent, I really haven't sent Full of Days to all that many publishers. The lack of an agent equals a lack of options. The confidence I have in that book means I am willing to seek an agent if all else fails. However, the lack of response from Moody means I am not yet to the point of all else failing. Occasionally I'll slip into the start of a daydream of the reading that letter or clicking on that email, then I stop myself, afraid to imagine it all as it seems to me that imagining a much hoped for event decreases the chances of it becoming reality. Please, Mr. Editor, please read that manuscript that you apparently have neglected for the better part of a year.

Wish #2... A month of Saturdays for writing the second novel: doesn't it sound heavenly? No? Maybe it's just me. Quite randomly last weekend, I grabbed my copy of the chapters I have written and brought them to the gym with me. Yes, to the gym. Time on the treadmill or elliptical is normally time to peruse a good magazine and rest my brain. This particular morning though, it was time to reread the chapters. I have set aside this novel in the last several months for the sake of RCIA, a rather time-, heart- and mind-consuming ministry. Sadly, I was beginning to forget the story. Not the general gist of the story but the details I had plotted out in my mind and the twists and turns and developments I anticipated in my imagination. So I read my chapters. And I fell in love. I am in love with this story. Perhaps the time away from it has proven the old adage because I am undoubtedly fonder of the story now than when I last worked on it. This, quite naturally, causes me to wish for the time to write it well. I keep telling myself that time will come but I'm not always the most convincing person.

Wish #3... Maybe I shouldn't even get started on this one. Considering that Persuasion is my favorite novel (tied with I Capture the Castle - seriously ladies, read that book!) and Pride & Prejudice is a close second, it is funny that the hero of Emma is to blame for so much disappointed yet unshakable expectation.

Yes, if I only had a wishing well, who knows how different life would be. Of course now I just have Sinatra's "Three Coins in the Fountain" in my head.

To Her True Country

2010-01-03T16:35:00.004-06:00

"I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others to do the same." (C S Lewis)

This is the post I never wanted to write. Having written these posts: Please? and Joy Has Come, I knew I'd committed to writing the necessary follow up. What that follow up would be was known only to God. He has carried out His will. Amy died on Friday night, January 1st after slipping into a coma for a brief time.

I hadn't seen Amy since June but from the bits shared with me by others, it was easy to piece together an image of her last weeks here. It is an image of faith and constancy that has repeatedly brought me to tears, challenging me to believe there truly is nothing that can, of its own force, separate us from the love and joy of Christ. As her brain was finishing its work on this earth, Amy's mind was caught up in anticipation of eternal life. Her ability to communicate was dwindling, yet she repeatedly took up the topic of her Lord. She spoke of Him, she spoke to Him. She worshipped Him. She prayed to Him. She witnessed His miraculous presence in the Eucharist. I have a feeling that when she couldn't communicate much else, Amy still managed to communicate her joy to her family. She looked forward to her true country, her home prepared tenderly for her by the Lord.

There are some beauties that overwhelm. They are almost painful to endure for you know that you are seeing beauty in its truest form and you cannot hold onto it. You cannot grip it and restrain it. This beauty must be released, trusted to continue on to thence from which it came. You must go on with the image of it ingrained in your heart's memory; the experience of it drawing you toward more beauty wherever it can be found and making you willing to sacrifice anything that would mar its presence in yourself.

For numerous people, God provided this glimpse of beauty, a beauty shaped and molded for heaven, in Amy. I was able to hold in the tears until Mass this morning. As I worshipped there, knowing that my own meager devotion was joined with the perfect songs and prayers of the saints in heaven, the awareness that the beauty of heaven had, in a way, increased while the beauty of this earth had, in the same way, lessened could not be avoided.

I wanted to thank all of you who prayed for Amy and ask you to continue to pray for her husband, Todd and her family, Frank and Nancy, Michelle, Angie and Mike.

May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Joy Has Come

2009-12-26T11:02:00.002-06:00

"You will show me the path to life, abounding joy in your presence, the delights at your right hand forever." (Psalm 16:11)

Christmas has come. The simplicity and quiet of the celebrations this year (compared to how it is normally when the entire family gathers at my parents' house) is lending itself to being more Christ-centered and reflective. I'm enjoying that a lot. It can be a difficult enough task, so any help is welcome. Fr. Mark's homily on Christmas Eve was a compelling call to strip away all the wants of this life and want, above all, a "happy ending" to this life, or more truly a "happy eternal beginning." Then yesterday, my friend, Erin, shared a little with me from Fr. Mike Chenier's Christmas morning homily.

Fr. Mike is my friend, Mike, whom I mentioned previously in the post asking for prayers for his sister, Amy. That post can be found here. Excepting a miracle according to God's great will, Amy is expected to live another one to three months. She is confused a lot of the time and has difficulty communicating now. The whole thing continues to break my heart. I have wept for Fr. Mike, who has been dear to me for so long, and for Amy, who ranks among the sweetest and most good-humored people I've been privileged to know. All of it breaks my heart in a way that tears away any pretense I might hold onto of knowing what this life will or won't bring for me or my loved ones. The sense of vulnerability, our inability to sustain our own lives, and the prevailing authority of God as the Author of our lives is strong. I haven't been able to shake it from my mind in the last few weeks.

What Erin shared from Fr. Mike's homily has provided some necessary rounding out of these contemplations. I do wish I could have heard his sermon but the bits of summary have given me ample mental soil to work with this Christmas. He preached on joy, on the joy of Mary and Joseph and his and Amy's joy, too. Joy instead of bitterness; that's what was chosen by the Holy Family in the face of unavoidable suffering, certain hardship, and disconcerting mystery. Total entrustment of their lives to God's Providence allows for this joy. The loss of all the plans and expectations for their personal lives; facing the unknown of what God was asking of them, taking from them, and giving to them, all of it could have led to fear and bitterness, even self-pity. Sorrow over the losses could take hold with no release; surely we all know people for whom this has been the case. This was not so for them. The sorrow and grief may be real but they are not the highest powers. Instead there is joy. True joy that comes from peace; true peace that comes from hope; true hope that comes from faith in the God who promises to never leave us, to always carry us back to Him, to be our "fullness of joy" for all eternity. Fr. Mike shared that in this most harrowing of times for his family, there is joy. Amy has joy; he has joy. I don't know if I can think of another example that more effectively teaches me of the difference in depth and worth between joy and happiness. What a glorious sign of holiness when a soul still genuinely rejoices in the Lord when all sources of happiness are stripped away. I am humbled by the sight of this holiness in my friends.

It's a Jars of Clay Christmas!

2009-12-18T13:41:00.003-06:00

A very enjoyable, Advent-y blessing was the chance to attend the Christmas concert with Jars of Clay and Bebo Norman. Call me a silly fan but I felt kind of privileged to see the show considering there were only five shows on the tour! How Oconomowoc, WI ended up as one of the five, I don't know but I'm glad it did!

Also, what on earth is up with the Armadillo?!

Christmas Tree - Made It Home

2009-12-18T13:37:00.003-06:00

Let's Find a Christmas Tree!

2009-12-18T13:30:00.004-06:00

As we do every year, my sister and I (with our niece too this time) went tree hunting. It's a lovely process. Taking our time, picking out our favorites, tramping through the snow to compare the possibilities, realizing we aren't lumberjacks when our shoulders are aching after sawing through half the trunk. Good times are had by all. This year's tree is decidedly plump, overtaking half the living room. I'm growing more fond of it each day.

December Part 2

2009-12-18T13:28:00.003-06:00

My car definitely didn't go anywhere that day, which I was quite happy about.

December Came In Heavy

2009-12-18T13:22:00.003-06:00

This is much more like the Decembers of childhood. The more recent years have seen barely any snow until January. Last year and this year are looking to be true, old fashioned winters of the north.

Advent Amazement

2009-12-16T08:27:00.006-06:00

This Advent I've been reading a collection of meditations on quotes from C. S. Lewis. Lewis had a very worthy grasp of the the grandness of the miracle of the Incarnation, of the greatness of God becoming man in Jesus Christ. His awe of God's actions on that first Christmas night is unmistakable. It casts light on my lack of awe and has me thinking about the vast difference between the greatness I attribute to God and His actual greatness. I think of Moses, who had to veil his face after seeing the glory of God because he shone with blinding radiance; of King David, who sought to contemplate God, His works and commands all day and all night; of the Prophet Isaiah, who saw a vision of the Lord on His throne, surrounded by worshipping Seraphim; of St. John, who wrote an entire mystical account of the heavenly visions he received; of St. Francis of Assisi, who went into a coma-like state for a few days after hearing a single note of the music of heaven... these men had a much deeper awareness of God's divinity than I do. I'd even warrant that most of this era's Christians don't come close to such an awareness as used to characterize the great figures of the Church. It is why the mystics fascinate me more and more with each passing year. In this time we prefer to have everything figured out. We like to fully grasp the thing that is before us, to give it boundaries and know exactly how it works and what it means. I see it in the way the faith is taught, as well as the willingness of people to make acts of faith in truths that they haven't fully grasped yet. I see it as well in our worship. The individualistic nature of our culture has crept into our worship. Though there is great worth in the individual's worship of God, in the singular communication with and listening to God, there has been a loss of comprehension in how liturgy unites us with all the saints and angels of heaven, as well as all the Church on earth, in the worship of our King.

Basically, I find myself questioning these attitudes and tendencies that characterize the present. I don't doubt the goodness of knowing what we can know, of grasping what we can grasp; God wouldn't have revealed so much and commanded the Church to continuously teach it all if He didn't desire that we know all of it. It's all that we don't fully know or fully understand that I'm concentrating on here. What is so wrong about being baffled with amazement? About sensing the infinite depth of the mysteries of God and concluding that I truly know so, so little. I cannot hit the bottom of the well with my bucket. At the end of his years, St. Thomas Aquinas, one of the greatest minds to ever encounter and expound upon the Christian faith, said this: "All that I have written appears to me as much straw after the things that have been revealed to me." The more insight he gained into the truth of who God is, what He has done, who we are in light of Him, the more he realized how much there was still to know and understand.

How I react to the Incarnation is an excellent test of my heart's capacity for amazement at the mysteries of God. The Incarnation is absurd, scandalous, bewildering, incredible! It is awesome in the truest sense of that overly used word. I've heard before that to get an idea of how much God humbled Himself to become man, we should imagine ourselves becoming an amoeba or a worm. But even that is a terribly weak analogy for I and a worm are both creatures; not equal creatures, but creatures nonetheless. What God did by becoming man, indeed an infant born expressly for the purpose of dying for mankind, is beyond any comparison we can make. This is not meant to belittle or devalue us as human beings. Rather if I develop a proper sense of awe at the Incarnation, my sense of human dignity will likewise develop. For in the face of this immeasurable difference between God and man, God still became man!

I have a feeling that this awe and bafflement at God, at the mysteries of God, are key to having faith like a child. Too much of our accessible knowledge of God has been gained at the expense of our certainty that we have only glimpsed into all that there is to know and experience of Him. Both must be nurtured in my heart and mind: the accessiblity of God (which is due only to His initiative over the course of salvation history, especially in the Incarnation) and the inexhaustible depth of His mysteries. Neither should be sacrificed. It's difficult though not to give up one and cling only to the other.

"The Christian story is precisely the story of one grand miracle, the Christian assertion being that what is beyond all space and time, what is uncreated, eternal, came into nature, into human nature, descended into His own universe, and rose again, bringing nature up with Him. It is precisely one great miracle." (C. S. Lewis) Do I even have a concept of what miracles are? I do, but I don't recognize them enough. I don't fall down on my knees in worship of the infinite God when He takes heed of the individual and intervenes in space and time for the sake of His sons and daughters. The divine intervention that is the Incarnation... well, I ought to be struggling for words to describe it, so great is this miracle! And the more I contemplate it, the more that is the case.

I wonder how the angels reacted to the Incarnation! Some went to the shepherds near Bethlehem, but what of the legions not present there? The awe of God, the amazement at His action, the joyful acceptance of His infinite wisdom in carrying out this plan - what a chorus must have been sung! Some theologians speculate that the tipping point of Lucifer's and the rest of the fallen angels' rebellion came when all the angels were given knowledge of the plan of salvation and asked to choose whether they would or would not serve that plan. Lucifer's pride could not accept the plan. It was scandalous that God would become man! That He would take on a created human nature, live among the poor, work for His bread, be rejected by His own people and be put to death! Considering the stir He creates here, Jesus Christ must have caused quite the stir amongst the angels too.

Yet what is my own reaction to the plan of salvation, to the Incarnation? It is comforting and encouraging, if I slow down enough from the nonsense of the 'holiday season' and focus on it. It is cause to rejoice, to give thanks, to be kinder to others, and so on. Not bad reactions, certainly, but they fall so short! My prayer this Advent is for awe and amazement to fill me to my fingertips, and that in this reaction may come the seeds of childlike and willing faith, unceasing joy in God's incredible outreach to me, humility in the face of the humility of the Divine veiled by a human nature, and eager, earnest repentance out of love of the God who set this "grand miracle" in motion for the sake of making a way for us into His presence.

The Truth Behind the Lies

2009-12-10T21:11:00.002-06:00

Accurate medical information and offering what's best for women? Or lies, deception and greed? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIXHrusvMDw Amazingly awful stuff happening in our own towns, down the street from our own houses, promoted to our daughters, sisters and friends. Please share this video with others. Check out www.liveaction.org for more.

Winter Skin

2009-12-07T09:00:00.004-06:00

It's December 7th and a fluffy layer of fresh snow is on the ground. With more to come today and tomorrow, in fact a surprising 9 or 10 inches by Wednesday morning, I'm realizing that winter is in full swing. It's here, with its winds and snows and frosts, and there's no turning back. The song in the video above is one of my current favorite seasonal tunes by my favorite band (6 days until I see their Christmas show!!! Sorry, sidetracked...) and it is especially well suited to my mood today. Maybe it's the cold, maybe it's the fact that it's Advent, maybe it's the seven days in a row that I've been sick; I have a few reasons to slow down... and to quiet down. In fact, that's going to be my mantra this winter. "Slow down. Quiet down. Slow down. Quiet down." I'm going to walk through my days, rather than run, skid, slide or barrel headlong into the next day and the next.

On Saturday I needed to write an article for the next edition of our church's newsletter. My bout with the seasonal flu didn't make that easy as I couldn't seem to clear my mind enough to remember what I was talking about from the start to the end of a paragraph. So I cheated. I pulled out an old prayer journal and flipped through the pages to find a suitable reflection I'd written that could be adapted into article form. In the course of perusing the old journal, I found more than just an appropriate piece of material for my article. I found other tidbits that reminded me of the things I wanted to write; ideas and meditations that I now readily saw as seeds for longer works. And just like that the writing bug was back. I've repressed it by focusing on the other tasks at hand, i.e. directing/teaching RCIA, Theology of the Body study, adult faith nights, and life in general. The sacrifice has been a necessary one. I haven't touched my in-progress novel for a couple of months, at least. I haven't sent my completed novel to any new publishers in several months. To be honest, the ongoing busyness has kept me from dwelling too much on the lack of writing. It's allowed me to 'be okay' with the break from it.

Then I got sick. I slowed down. I couldn't multi-task. I needed quiet. And you know what, as much I loathed being sick, there was an aspect of it that was distinctly enjoyable. Knowing I wasn't good for much else, I pulled out Full of Days and picked up where I'd left off in revising the chapter divisions. Sure, I knew that once I was well enough, I'd need to get back to writing RCIA class materials and cleaning the house but for a few hours on Saturday, I got to be a fiction writer again. The tradeoff: I am completely renewed in my motivation to complete the class materials so I can move on (or back) to writing fiction again.

All I had to do was slow down, quiet down, and things seemed doable again. So for the next few months, I'm putting on my winter skin and walking. Slowly, quietly. Sometimes that's all we should ask of ourselves.

Loving This

2009-12-02T12:52:00.000-06:00

It's a beautiful world, with beautiful music.

Please?

2009-12-01T10:31:00.003-06:00

I don't normally make requests on this blog. I have no idea if there's any point since there's no way to know who reads this or how many views it receives. But I'm going to take a leap of faith and put a request out there, trusting that God works in hidden ways and maybe this blog can be part of that.

I have a friend who is dying. I can't help but begin to cry as I type this. Amy, who is in her early thirties, has been living with a brain tumor for the last few years. Every day that she's had since the tumor took hold has been a true miracle as the tumor is inoperable. With treatments and a great deal of prayer, the tumor had stopped growing for some time. However this is no longer the case and it has begun spreading significantly. All that is left to hope for is a miracle. Be it God's will, He is more than capable of providing that miracle. His will is so often hidden though.

These circumstances have me consumed with thoughts of loss and hope and the insufficiency of our own strength to sustain our own lives. As the person in Amy's family that I am closest to is her younger brother, I look upon the situation with the eyes of a sibling and my heart breaks for my dear friend, Mike. Even the imagining of losing one of my sisters is too much for me to dwell on for more than a few seconds.

Would you pray for Amy? Pray for a miracle, if it be God's will to continue her earthly life, to happen soon; for acceptance of God's choice in Amy's heart and the hearts of all of her family , whatever that divine choice ends up being; for consolation for Amy as she suffers, for her husband as he suffers at her side, for her dear and wonderful parents and siblings. They all need to be buoyed by prayers.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T10:00:00.001-06:00

What's Your Compass?

2009-11-23T15:13:00.002-06:00

As a Catholic I get to celebrate two New Years. This past Sunday signified the end of the Church year (the liturgical cycle of feast days and seasons commemorating the great truths, events and mysteries of Christ and the Church). With this coming Sunday, the new Church year is inaugurated by the 1st Sunday of Advent. Advent: that holy season of preparation, waiting, anticipation, contemplation. During Advent we have a two-fold focus in our liturgies (and are invited to have them in our personal prayers as well) of the Incarnation, when the Son of God assumed a human nature to dwell among us for our salvation, and the Parousia, when that same Person shall return at the close of time for the final judgment of all men and women ever created. It's a rich set of weeks, easily missed in the bustle of the "holiday season" celebrated by shopping centers and television programming.

Lately I've been troubled by how few things there are that I can count on, especially how few events or experiences I can count on happening. At any given moment, I could probably think of a dozen things that I want to happen, even that I have genuine hope of happening, but there is truly only one event left that I can count on happening. That is the coming of Christ. The 2nd Coming, to be specific. The glorious return of the King of kings, the Lord of lords, triumphant and final. Nothing else is guaranteed.

Is this a pessimistic, negative, 'to hell with all my work and plans' sort of perspective? Or is it a realistic, positive, 'everything only matters in light of Christ' perspective? I suppose it's neutral in itself. But how do I apply it? How am I influenced by it? That's where the rubber meets the road. Accepting and grasping this truth can shape those wants and hopes I have from day to day, year to year, as well as my reactions when they either do or do not come to fruition. The lasting weight of anything that happens in this life is only measurable in terms of eternity, e.g. did this loss unite me more closely to Christ? Did this gain incline me toward praise of and thanksgiving to God? "God works all things for the good of those who love Him," assuming I freely submit to His divine Providence.

In a recent discussion with some fellow Catholics, the question came up of whether or not we were wasting our time to be pondering Heaven. What can we know of it? What can we hope for? What will it be like? Admittedly, we are almost laughably limited in our capacity to understand or grasp the reality of Heaven. So do we waste our time by thinking about it? I argued vehemently, no. Pondering Heaven (or likewise, the end of time when Christ will return) is not a waste of my time. To explore the reality of Heaven is to explore my destination, my eternal homeland. To contemplate the return of Christ in all His victorious glory is to contemplate the final, definitive consummation of love. All that was begun when God, out of the abundance of His love, created the heavens and the earth and all who dwell there, all that was redeemed and reconciled by the sacrifice of perfect, divine love in Jesus Christ on the Cross, all that is hoped for and sought by the generations of faithful believers since will be completed by His return. The Kingdom of God, that mysterious 'now but not yet' reality of what Jesus has done and what we are cooperating with by grace and free will, shall then be everything there is and ever will be.

The mind boggling truth that I get to contribute to this coming of the Kingdom has the power to shape every day that I live on this earth. Contemplation of the adventus, the coming of Christ at the end of time, does not cause me to neglect the things that make up my earthly life. Rather it informs that life, contextualizing it and directing it. Heaven is our true north.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Old Friends

2009-11-18T15:45:00.005-06:00

In preparation for a talk I'll be giving in December, I am revisiting some dear old friends-in-print: Lumen Gentium, Gaudium et Spes, the Didache, Loving the Church by Cardinal Shonborn. It all has me remembering a lot of things. Why I got into Theology; why I loved every day that I was able to study it at Franciscan U; why I thrill with elation in the moment of catechesis... I can hear Sr. M. Johanna's voice as she lectures on christocentricity, and Fr. Pattee's insightful explanation of each of the seven Sacraments. I remember the excitement of (the attempt at) absorbing the depth of Dr. Hahn's lectures, and the giddiness of grasping, after considerable effort, an eternal truth that was new to my mind and heart. Considering how frustrated, impatient and drained I get from the task, the love I have for learning the mysteries of the faith must be what keeps me teaching it. I complain because I get worn out; I weaken because I neglect prayer; I am discouraged because my calling to adult catechesis doesn't translate into a full time gig in the Church. None of this stands much of a chance though in the face of becoming a theology student once again, be it in my bedroom with a book in my hands or at a lecture or Bible study. On such occasions, I am renewed in both the joy I am gifted with when I study the faith and in the commitment previously made to be a catechist in whatever ways God allows.

I mean, when I read, "There are two ways, one of life and one of death; but a great difference between the two ways," and realize I have the opportunity to not only learn but also share the very faith that the Apostles learned firsthand from Jesus and taught to the first generation of Christians, my heart can't help but cry out in gratitude to the Lord.

Starts

2009-11-12T08:38:00.002-06:00

"Good sir, this is not good."

If anyone can tell me what romantic comedy that line is from, I'll bake you cookies and send them through the mail. And I make good cookies.

Anyway, I started a new book this morning. "Lord! What are You getting me into?" What the heck am I doing starting a new book when I've had to set aside my current writing project for an indefinite amount of time? But the idea was there, the first paragraphs were there and I simply had no way around it. The words had to be written down. Truth be told, I've started several books, insofar as I've written down the seeds of the idea or the first paragraphs, and then never returned to them. No big deal; I just dislike letting a possibly good idea completely slip away. They're all projects that could be developed in the future or not, either way being okay with me. So maybe this one shouldn't have me worried either. I don't know, though. The concept solidified with remarkable swiftness and the urge to dive into it is strong. It's different than any of the others. Nonfiction, for one thing. I've always felt I could write nonfiction should the right project, timing and impetus converge on me. What will come of this is anyone's guess. At the moment though, it's just making it harder to dedicate myself to the responsibilities immediately at hand.

Oh yeah, and I have a vague idea for another novel too but that hasn't been written down yet. This hole I'm standing in just got dug a little deeper. It's getting tough to see from here.

"Hello, this is your wake up call."

2009-11-11T10:35:00.002-06:00

Last night brought me an unexpected wake up call courtesy of a friend who wasn't even intending his comments for me in particular. Co-leading the evening's Theology of the Body session, my friend offered an analogy to the group to further explain a key point in the lesson. I stood by his side, nodding along and only half-listening since I'd heard his analogy before. The comment he used to wrap it up though is still ringing in my ears. I can only credit the Holy Spirit for opening my ears to my friend's words. It was an a-ha, light bulb switched on, voice from Heaven moment. The reality it unearthed for me, once I looked upon it with opened eyes, appeared so obvious. Does it matter what it was, specifically? It was a problem; a source of frustration and discouragement and self-doubt. A situation I'd prayed about and struggled with, and yet I hadn't seen it. Not truly. I'd glimpsed it; I'd felt the effects of the issue, but I hadn't seen it for what it really truly was. Maybe I didn't want to see it, or deal with it with finality, or stop clinging to it. No going back now, though. I get it, Lord. I'm awake.

I keep thinking of the Lord's frequently repeated comment in the Gospels: "Those who have ears ought to hear." I didn't know what I was supposed to be listening for, but I needed to keep listening, leaving it up to Him to choose when and what to speak. And when He so chooses, I best be ready because He only speaks the truth. And the truth, in the process of setting us free, can spin us around. It can leave us shaken even as we find ourselves standing on ground that's become even more solid than before.

Not Go Empty

2009-11-09T15:09:00.004-06:00

Chalk it up to a combination of pregnancy brain and overtiredness but when my sister explained, "I don't have my contacts in so I can't hear what you're saying," I knew it was time for her to get some sleep.

And when I left home for the weekend without a scrap of work along, resulting in a 48 hour fight against a flood of anxiety, I knew it was time to run to Jesus. It was time to remember why I serve Him. It was time to believe He could (and would) supply whatever was necessary to do the work He had given me. There was a feeling of childish foolishness as I bent my head before my Lord. In His wisdom, He did not respond with comforting, coddling words. Often when I pray in the midst of stress, I am lulled into peace of mind by His invitation to rest in Him. Yesterday though, the Lord took a different approach.

The Gospel and homily at yesterday's Mass spoke of the poor widow who gave all she had to God: two small coins amounting to a greater gift than all the donations of rich men and women who gave from their surplus. In the minutes after the homily though, it was not this story or its lessons that resonated in my mind. Instead, the 1st reading stayed with me. It's one of my favorite passages from the Old Testament.

In those days, Elijah the prophet went to Zarephath. As he arrived at the
entrance of the city, a widow was gathering sticks there; he called out to
her, "Please bring me a small cupful of water to drink." She left to get it, and
he called out after her, "Please bring along a bit of bread." She answered, "As
the LORD, your God, lives, I have nothing baked; there is only a handful of flour
in my jar and a little oil in my jug. Just now I was collecting a couple of
sticks, to go in and prepare something for myself and my son; when we have eaten
it, we shall die." Elijah said to her, "Do not be afraid. Go and do as you
propose. But first make me a little cake and bring it to me. Then you can prepare
something for yourself and your son. For the LORD, the God of Israel, says, 'The
jar of flour shall not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, until the day when
the LORD sends rain upon the earth.'" She left and did as Elijah had said. She
was able to eat for a year, and he and her son as well; the jar of flour did not
go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, as the LORD had foretold through Elijah. (1
Kings 17:10-16)

My heart trembled to hear the Lord speak to me, sternly but lovingly.

"Do you suppose I will not do likewise for you? Will I not supply what you need when I ask something of you? Do the work I have given you! Do it well; do it faithfully. Have I asked you to do it based on your own merit? On your own skill and talent? Assuredly, no. I have asked it of you on the basis that I am able, and I will, give what you need to do it. The prophet asked for a mere bit of bread and a drink of water, and this was a burden to the starving woman and her child. It was reasonable for her to say she could not give what was asked of her. Without my grace, she'd have been right. She could not give it, but I could. If I will you to give of yourself - to serve- then I will also supply the gift. What is necessary from you is the 'yes', the willingness and the effort required to give away what I give to you. As the woman still had to knead and bake the bread from the flour and oil which I gave to her, so there is work to be done if you are to give from what I have supplied to you. Why then do you hesitate? Why do you talk yourself out of the effort? For love of me, you will continue. If no other reward, no other comfort, comes of it, will you continue for love of me, as an act of trust in me? Will you continue with the humble confidence of one who knows that I supply what I ask of you?"

I was struck by that paradoxical truth: that everything God asks of us, He also provides. In every instance that demands from me love or generosity or compassion or patience or courage, my yes will unleash God's love, generosity, compassion, patience or courage into my own heart. The demands can be challenging and exhausting. They can be downright trying. Yet as I sat there in the church, staring up at the crucifix hanging above the altar, I knew that I could not stand my ground on one single excuse or argument against believing that God will faithfully supply for my needs as I serve Him. He will not allow my jar of flour to go empty, nor my jug of oil to run dry.