Life- here, there and everywhere

Where Do Catholics Party?

2012-02-10T21:31:00.000-08:00

I have never been very interested in politics. Maybe it was because I grew up in a placewhere the politicians were a joke. WhenI first moved to Louisiana, the race for governor consisted of anex-klu-klux-klan member and a convicted felon. When I moved to Texas, I found the politicians are not as corrupt, butthey are just as wishy-washy. They saywhat you want to hear so they may keep their elected positions. So, out of disgust for the politicians andthe process that turns them into what they are, I’ve stayed away from politics. And that worked out just fine because governmentmostly stayed out of my business- until recently.

I am seriously concerned about the new HHS mandate put inplace by the Obama administration requiring all health plans to includepreventative reproductive health services- including those of religious organizationsthat find such plans morally objectionable. SERIOUSLY concerned. Since whendoes the government have the authority to tell a church they have to provide morallyobjectionable services to their employees and the people who CHOOSE to seek thechurch’s services? Since when does the governmenthave the authority to impose their moral code on a religious entity? Yes, this mandate has me seriously concernedbecause the government is now stripping away my rights to freely practice myreligion- a right guaranteed in the constitution.

So, I find myself in unchartered waters. Here I am a Catholic plucked right down inthe middle of a political firestorm. Wheredo I go? With whom do I identify myself? That is the million dollar question. I can’t be a Democrat because their partysupports pro-choice issues, but I can’t be a Republican because they supportthe death penalty. I can’t be Democratbecause they are too socialist, but I can’t be a Republican because they favorrun away capitalism. Both parties havetheir non-negotiable evils and, therefore, I can’t find a place in eitherone. One thing that frustrates me iswhere the other Catholics stand. Thereare Catholics in both parties. Some ofthe Democratic Catholics openly reject the Church’s teachings on issues likecontraception and abortion while some of the Republican Catholics what to cutsocial services in an effort to lower taxes for wealthy citizens. I just don’t get it. How can one be Catholic but not call thetruths of the faith their own? When didCatholicism become a cafeteria plan to those in the political arena?

I think this issue of picking and choosing what one wants tobelieve is an American Christian phenomenon. People in our country relish their freedom.They taut it. They covet it. And they have applied it to every aspect of theirlives- including their practice of religion. They are free to choose what theywant to believe. And, in light of the rights outlined in our constitution, theyare free to do exactly that. But as a Christian, they are not. The Church doesn’tcall her teachings beliefs but rather truths. The truths of the Catholic faith are TRUE- like the sky is blue. Beliefs are not truths. There is a distinction. As Catholics, we are asked to embrace all thetruths of the faith. Now, I understand that is a tall order. For me, the journey to conversion was aprocess. It did not happenovernight. But ifwe truly love Christ, then we will be on that journey. I think some get stuckand distracted and accept the world's standards over the higher standards ofGod. What they fail to realize is how those choices separate them from God.They are missing out on the intimate relationship Christ designed to have withus when they pick and choose which truths they are comfortable with rather thanabandoning themselves (and their coveted freedom) to all the truths Christ gaveus. Christ gave us his life to give us these truths. We must do the same if weseek to have this intimate relationship with Him.

So, what is a newbie political Catholic girl to do? I can’t compromise my position on the truthsof the Church. Also, I can’t stand idlyby and let the government impose their moral standard on my Church. It seems as if I am all dressed up but haveno party to go to.

On Being King- Not Just a Princess

2012-01-06T20:41:00.000-08:00

We all know that Jesus is Priest, Prophet and King. Right? And we all know that through our baptism we share in the life ofChrist. Right? So, we are Priests, Prophets and Kings. Right? Wait. What? Run that by me again!?!

That was my reaction when I looked at the retreat we weregiving to our adult volunteers in our youth program. I always understood that Christ is Priest,Prophet and King. I always understoodthat I share in his life through baptism into the Body of Christ. But I never connected those dots. I didn’t realize that I share in thesespecific roles as Priest, Prophet and King.

Priest isn’t a hard one for me. Although I am not a man and I am not calledto a consecrated religious vocation, I can see how I share in this role,especially as a youth minister, and mother. At Baptism and confirmation, we are anointed as Priests and given theHoly Spirit who lives in us and commissions us to bring about the kingdom ofGod. As Priests, we are called to sacrificefor the good of others so that Christ may live through us. We are called to consecrate the world toGod. My world is my kids and mycommunity. So, that is what I do-sacrifice for them, invite them to Christ’s Kingdom, and consecrate them to God. I don’t do it perfectly all the time, but I’mdoing it. This role is one I think Ifall into naturally and comfortably.

The role of prophet is one that I have only embracedrecently. You see, I struggle with theidea that God actually reveals things to me. I mean, who am I in the grand scheme of creation? I am just a grain of sand in the ocean or awave tossed in the sea(shout out to Casting Crowns!). In fact, my grain is rather rough around theedges and imperfect to say the least. There are many, many greater, more educated and altogether more worthygrains out there that God can speak to and through. Who am I to think that he would chooseme? It is a grand mystery that Istruggle to understand. But even as Iwrite this, God is making the mystery a little less puzzling. You see, I said yes. And that is all it takes- a willing and openheart. He asked me to dance, and I saidyes. And so we dance. And he whispers His truth in my heart andsets me on fire. And then he brings thepeople he wants to touch into my life to watch me burn. Sometimes, I really go down in flames andother times, I feel like water gets thrown on me. Either way, I know I have been blessed withthe Holy Spirit’s gift of fortitude because I don’t think I could embrace therole of prophet without it.

Now let’s talk about Kings. When I think about a King, I think about someone with political power,monetary wealth and worldly prestige. Now, I know that our Lord is a different kind of King whose kingship isnot defined by the world’s standards. Nevertheless, I do not consider myself worthy of that title. Maybe I am part of the king’s court, or evena princess. But king? No. MyLord is the King. He is the one who diedon the cross. He is the one who paid theransom for my sin. He is the one (andonly one) worthy of that title. So, tosay that I share in Christ’s kingship is rather perplexing and has reallychallenged me to put on my thinking cap this week. I think the reason I seem to be having such ahard time with this concept is due to the fact that I really hadn’t thoughtabout what Christ’s kingship really is. The kingship Christ defines is much different than the royal role Iimagine. You see, Christ gained powerthrough love. As king, he completelygave himself to his people through his death on the cross. He defeated death with love and he did it sothat we may live and truly be God’s people on this earth and into eternity. When we are baptized and participate in thesacraments, we share in his life, receive his grace and remain in hislove. As his people, he asks us to bekings. He asks us to share in that lovethat drives one to such a sacrifice. Heasks us to completely empty ourselves and abandon our will to His. When we live this way, we live as kings; notkings who take power and wealth, but kings who love and sacrifice for the goodof others. We are kings when our ownlives are abandoned out of love for the kingdom.

As Christians, we are called to take on these roles. We are the body of Christ. We are the children of God. When we live these roles, we bring Christ’slight to this dark world. We are thecandles while he is the flame. Now, Idon’t know about you, but these roles seem rather daunting. All this talk of consecration, prophesy, andsacrifice of my life sends my flawed humanity straight to fear. But, I have to say, that I prefer that fearover a life distanced from Christ. Ihave lived that life and it is not a bed of roses. In that life, there is no joy. There is no fire. There is no peace. When I embrace Christ’s life- the life Hegave me through baptism as priest, prophet and king, love fuels my soul, joy isover flowingly abundant and I have the peace surpasses all understanding. I am living the life God created me to live.

“As Jesus, in hisabandonment before death, delivered himself into the hands of the invisible andincomprehensible God, the soul must do likewise—casting herself headlong intothe pitch darkness of faith, the only way to the incomprehensible God.” -St. EdithStein

Surviving Christmas

2011-12-09T21:27:00.001-08:00

As a “good” Catholic mom, I should be writing a post aboutthe true meaning of Christmas. I shouldbe writing about how I am teaching my children about giving rather thantaking. I should write about spendingmore time praying than shopping. Ishould write about growing in faith rather than growing in debt. However, I would be misleading you. As usual, I am an anxiety-filled shell of awoman hunkering down in her Christmas cluttered home, furiously wrappingcountless presents from another budget-busting Christmas shopping disasterwhile yelling at her sugar hyped-up children as they fight over God knowswhat. Yep, I’m a mess. And the fact that I am such a mess in aseason where I should be preparing for our Lord makes it that much worse.

Although I love my fellow Catholic bloggers, I cannot STANDto read their “true meaning of Christmas” ramblings. Yes, I know the true meaning ofChristmas. I know that it is a season ofgiving and finding joy and peace in that giving. I know it is a season of preparing to welcomeour Lord into this world. But, I amconvinced that these people who give us this wealth of information and Christmasseason advice either don’t have children and families or are heavilymedicated. Here, in this day and age,Christmas has taken over EVERYTHING- from the coffee at Starbucks to the musicin the dentist’s office. And although itis great that such a large number of people in our society celebrate thisseason, Christmas has become something bigger than we can contain orcontrol. Christmas is that bull nocowboy hopes to draw. All you can do isget on and pray you make it to the 25^th.

As I was driving today in the lovely holiday traffic tryingnot to call the person who nearly took out my front end a word I did not wantmy four year old to repeat, I was thinking about how hard it is to find balancein this season. We are called to be inthe world but not of the world. How dowe do that during Christmas? How do Inot let the anxiety of shopping in an over-crowed mall get the best of me? How do I figure out which social events toattend and which to pass up in favor of family time? How do I teach my kids that the exciting partof Christmas is the arrival of Jesus and not Santa? How do I live in the Christmas season but notbe of the Christmas season? Every year,I struggle with these questions. Andevery year, I say, I’m going to do A, B and C next year. But, guess what! It rarely happens. There are so many factors I cannot control. There just doesn’t seem to be enough time inthe day, money in the bank and patience in my being. The world’s Christmas gets the best of meevery year and reading about how everyone else has it all figured out makes myinabilities that much more depressing.

But I have to remember that feeling when Christmas finallyarrives. I can finally get off the bulland dust myself off. I've made it. We open the champagne and give the kids theirpresents, which assure us some peace and quiet for at least the rest of the morning. And in that time, I can finally relax. There are no more presents to wrap. There are no more Christmas programs to planor attend. There are no more cards tosend out. There are no more cookies tobake. All that is left to do is go toMass and be with our Lord. And that isgrand.

But on a day like today (one where I worked a full andchallenging day and then braved the holiday crowds with my spoiled, crankychildren), all I want to do is spend the next 24 hours in the total silence of theadoration chapel. And while I am inthere listening to the sweet nothings He whispers to my heart, I want time tostop. And elves to address and mail my Christmascards, decorate the outside of my house, finish my shopping under budget, wrapall the presents, bake the Christmas cookies, clean my house and make a week’sworth of meals. They can also do all thethings I forgot to put on this list because my brain is Christmas-fried. Now, that would be REALLY grand.

Firing a Coach and Defrocking the Priests

2011-11-10T19:22:00.001-08:00

I find the situation at Penn State to just be sad. It is sad all around. The child abuse that took place at the schoolis sad. The fact that the school createdan environment that allowed the abuser to continue to victimize children issad. The fact that the people that knewwhat happened- from the janitor to the school President and chose to ignore theabuse is sad. And the protests that arenow occurring over the fallout from this terrible situation are sad.

I think that the public reaction to the firing of thebeloved JoePa at Penn State is quite interesting. This man turned a blind eye to the sexualabuse of children that occurred in his program- in his locker room. Sure, he alerted his superiors, but he didnot seek to stop the abuse. And that iswrong. More children were harmed becauseof his inaction. He valued hisfriendship with the abuser more than the safety of children. And yes, there must be consequences to hispoor decision. I understand that he hasgiven so much of his talent and life to Penn State, but, nevertheless, his terriblelapse in judgment that perpetuated this situation needs to be addressed. I think the trustees are justified inremoving him from his position. But thepublic seems to disagree. Many think heshould keep his job. Many think thetrustees are being too harsh. Many don’tunderstand why the coach’s misjudgment has cost him his storied career.

This situation reminds me of another child sex abuse scandalthat has a much different reaction from the public. The Catholic Church has been rocked by thisvery situation. There have been Priestswho have taken advantage of their trusted positions and committed similarcrimes. Like the volunteer coach at PennState, there have been Priests who have sexually assaulted children. And in some of those cases, their superiorsdid not do enough to stop it. They didnot do enough to protect future victims. When the public got wind of these crimes, they were outraged. They wanted some one’s head on aplatter. The fall out has included notonly the justified removal and prosecution of the abusive Priests, but also theresignation of many top level church leaders such as Cardinal Law of the Archdioceseof Boston. But some think that this isnot enough. Some think that the Popeshould pay for these crimes. Some wanthis head on a platter. Now, don’t get mewrong. I am not trying to belittle thepublic’s outrage in their reaction to this terrible crime. I think they should be mad. I think this reaction is justified. I disagree with people who paint all Priestswith the sex abuser brush, but I do think that the public is justified in theiranger. And good things have come fromthis situation for the Church. Thanks tothis scandal, the Safe Environment programs developed by dioceses have neverbeen more comprehensive. The childrenand vulnerable adults the Catholic Church serves have never been safer.

So, my question is, how is the situation at Penn Statedifferent that the situation in the Catholic Church? I know that at Penn statewe are just talking about one abuser and there were many more than one in the muchlarger community of the world-wide Catholic Church over a longer period of time. But the crime is the same. In both cases, the abuser was allowed tocontinue to victimize due to the negligence of his superiors. So why does a football coach get a reprieve fromthe public while all Catholic Priests must wear a scarlet A? Why does a football coach’s justified firinganger the same public that wants the pope’s head on a platter? I don’t get it.

Men: Step Up and Surrender

2011-11-04T19:58:00.000-07:00

I went to a ministry conference last weekend and I learned somethingrather profound. Men are created in theimage of God. And God made women to bethe perfect companions for men. So, sincemen are created in the image of God that makes women the perfect companions forGod. I never realized that. Logically, that makes perfect sense. And it explains a lot concerning the spiritualityof men and women.

In my experience, I've noticed that men seem to have a harder time withspirituality. It doesn’t come naturallyto them. They have a hard timesurrendering to a God they can’t see with their eyes and touch with their hands. They have a hard time trusting in theirfaith and defining themselves by that faith. I think some men see it as a sign of weakness. Men are made to provide and protect. They have a hard time admitting that theyneed to be provided for and protected. The walls a man must tear down in his heart in order to embrace Jesus ashis Lord and Savior are tall and thick.

Women, on the other hand, are made for God. And that would explain why more women are inthe pews. More women are at prayergroups. More women are enrolled in biblestudies. Women have an easier timefinding God in everything around them. They have an easier time in prayer. They have an easier time with surrender. In fact, I always thought it brilliant that God designated men to leadthe church. Because if the church was ledby women, then men would be lost. Theywould not be drawn into the Church if there were no male leaders to serve asrole models.

This morning, on Facebook, I asked my friends what I shouldwrite about for today’s column. Yep. That’s right. I had nothing planned. ‘Tis the life of a procrastinator. Anyhow, one of my friends suggested that Iwrite about how the importance of the father’s role as spiritual leader of the family. This is a topic I have been thinking aboutsince the conference and then last week, our adult cluster group engaged in thisvery discussion. Yes, indeed. Men need to be the spiritual leaders of thefamily. But why? Why is important that they fill a role theirwives seem to fit more naturally?

Have you ever prayed with a group of men? I mean really prayed. Like on your knees, face to God, heart andsoul poured out on the altar prayed with a group of men. It is pretty awesome. I have had this experience at our Holy Spiritprayer group which is a charismatic prayer group in our parish. I don’t think you have really experiencedprayer until you have prayed with a group like this. And our group has several core members whoare men. They make it AWESOME. I don’tknow why but they do. And then there wasthe time I visited my parent’s Baptist church. All the men came to the front of the church, got on their knees andprayed. They prayed hard for rain. I thought for sure that it would be rainingwhen we left their church service. Indeed, thereis something remarkable about the prayer of men.

In the family, the most natural role for the man is providerand protector. I am not saying thatwomen can not provide or protect, but I think men feel more comfortable fillingthat role. Therefore, it is prettyremarkable when the man looks to God to be his provider and protector. That makes an impression upon the rest of thefamily. If my Daddy, who provides thefamily’s income and is trusted with the family’s well-being, can give up thatcontrol to God, then I can trust God too. I can believe in the God my Father depends upon. A father’s faith in God sends a strongmessage to the family.

So, I challenge the men to stand up and be men. Be an example of one who lives a faith-filledlife. Show your wife and your childrenwhat it means to love God. Show them howto surrender their very lives to the God who surrendered his life to us. It will not be easy. You are not made to surrender. The walls you must tear down are tall andstrong. But your family needs you to doit. They need you to lead them to theLord. Your wife is God’s perfectcompanion which makes you, who is made in the image of God, her perfectcompanion. But you can’t be the man sheneeds you to be unless you allow God into your life. Surrender those walls. Pray with your family. Show your children how to trust God. You are the person that will bring them toChrist.

Seven Quick Takes Vol. 8

2011-11-04T05:48:00.000-07:00

I’m really not in the mood to write this. Today was not a good day in the 6^thgrade. There were many tears shed. The child is completely overwhelmed by theconsequences of his lack of organization. I wish there was something more I could do. But these are lessons he must learn. And he is choosing to learn them the hardway. I wish his 5^th gradeteachers did more to prepare him. Thistransition is ugly.

Well, the highlight of my week was meeting Lisa Hendy. She is the creator of www.catholicmom.com and author of twogreat books: The Handbook for Catholic Moms and A Book of Saints forCatholic Moms. We have been emailingback in forth for a couple years now. She is probably one of the few people that have read all of mycolumns. I feel like she probably knowsme better than some of the people I see on a daily basis. And until Saturday, we had never met face toface. She is incredibly sweet. We started chatting like we were oldfriends. She even introduced me to theattendees in her session as one of her talented contributors (which left my egorather inflated). It was really great tofinally meet her. I hope our paths crossagain soon!

I have a question for all of you. I assume that many of you are Catholicparents. Just in case this is your firsttime reading my blog, I am a youth minister. We have a little over 200 middle school students enrolled in ourWednesday night faith formation youth group. So, it is a big program that requires a number of volunteers in order tobe successful. I need morevolunteers. I need more faith filledpeople to mentor these youth. I needmore adults head over heals in love with the Lord to share their faith withthese impressionable young people. Thefirst pool of adults I want to target is the parents of these youth. So, what does it take? How do I pull in these parents? What would make you WANT to be involved inthis program? FYI- Adults do not leadgroups on their own; they are given detailed lessons in advance that requirelittle if any prep; they do not have to lead their child’s group-the choice istheirs.

My friend and I have discovered a WONDERFUL system: tradingbabysitting. I take her kids so she andhubby can go on a date and she takes mine so we can go out. For a family of four trying to make it on ateacher’s salary, this is a great system. It is fun for the parents who get the outing time and the kids who getto play at someone else’s house. I cannot believe I didn’t think of it before! I highly recommend it.

This one should probably be in the #1 spot on my list. But since my brain is still reeling from allthe 6^th grade math, science and social studies homework on the nightbefore the 6 weeks ends, I forgot about it until now. My husband’s band, Wakeland High School isgoing to the state marching band contest. To say I am super excited for him is an understatement. This will be his second time (andconsecutive) at the state contest. He ishoping they will place well. Theycompete on Tuesday. I have to say that Iam super excited for him AND I am super excited for what this means. That is right folks. Marching band season is coming to an end! It has been a long, tough, long, stressful,long and really long season. He hasworked every weekend since the beginning of September. The number of hours he has clocked isastronomical- averaging 60-80 hours a week. The personal sacrifice he and our family have made is exceptional. It is nice to see him have this success. I’ll keep you posted.

Well, I guess I can’t avoid it any longer. I might as well acknowledge the elephant inthe room. We lost the World Series. The Rangers didn’t bring home the title. We missed out for a second year in a row. Game 7 was horrifying. They had a good few innings in the beginningbut then they choked. The Cards playedbetter baseball. It pains me to say it,but they deserved to win. Our guyslooked terrible. And the whole time thegame was playing out, all I could think about was the fact that we were onlyone strike away from the title in game 6- TWICE!!!! And they blew it- TWICE!!!! Ok, I’m starting to get all worked upagain. Time to move on. But on a good note, I did learn from my game6 martini mistakes. I didn’t partake ingame 7 which proved to be a good choice given the outcome.

I have a confession to make. My confession is that I haven’t been to confession in a while. It has been a few months which is unusual forme. I was going once a month. But I have two problems: time andcircumstance. Since I have taken thisyouth ministry position at the church, my time is greatly limited. I already have a full time job with my homeday care and adding the part time church gig with all the family stuff leavesme short on time. Our youth nights areduring one of the weekly confession times at our parish. The other time is on Saturdays and my husbandhas worked every Saturday since mid-summer. I finally came to the conclusion that I am going to have to make anappointment with our Priest. And thenthere is the Priest issue. Now that I amworking at the church, do I still go to our pastor for confession? Is that professional? Maybe I should just go somewhere else. But then, due to some trust issues I amworking to overcome with people in ministry(I know how ironic that isconsidering my new job), I have been making a real effort to go to our pastorfor confession. It would be easier forme to go to a Priest I will never see again. I have been working to build that trust with him so I am not sure I wantto give up on that just because I am working at the church. What to do? What to do?

Visit more 7 Quick Takes at www.conversiondiary.com. Thanks Jennifer!

Seven Quick Takes Friday Vol. 7

2011-10-28T07:45:00.000-07:00

I learned a few things about myself when I woke up on thismorning after game 6 of the World Series. I should wait to pour the martini until after the game. I thought I could do it in the 8^thinning, but no. Exciting baseball gamesdo not allow me to make good decisions about martini’s after the first one ispoured. After checking my facebook thismorning, I have learned that I should not facebook while drinking a martini andwatching the Rangers let game 6 and their World Series championship slipbetween their fingers. Nope, that was nota wise decision either.

So, what do you think about the Church issuing the document “Towards a reform of international financial andmonetary system in the prospect of a public authority with universalcompetence”? I’m not sure I amsmart enough to fully understand the technical causes of the crisis and thesteps needed to improve the global economic climate. However, I do understand my role as aChristian. I must put the needs ofothers before myself. I must work forthe common good of the kingdom of God which will likely require sacrifice on mypart. I think these ideals have beenlost in the recent Christian generations. We have an underdeveloped sense of morality. Our capitalistic society fuelled bybirthright to the “American Dream” has clouded our morality and stolen ourability to see the common good before our own desires. And if we continue on this path of greed andlove of self over others, then we will destroy ourselves. Kudos to the Church for not only standing upand saying something, but saying something intelligent lined with well thoughtout solutions. I hope that the globalcommunity will listen and at least acknowledge that there is a problem. But, I fear that there is little hope thatsolutions offered by the institutions profiting from this climate will have anyimpact on improving the situation.

So, aweek ago, I got a Twitter account. Iknow, I know. I’m the last person on theplanet to tweet. You see, I havealways facebooked. I never had a desireto tweet mostly because I didn’t really understand how it worked. But I was forced to get an account so that Imay keep up with my son’s extracurricular activity. So, I tweeted. I do not have the hang of it yet. I do not understand how people can follow meor even find me on twitter. And thetweeting is a learning curve. The tweetsare filled with @ and # and crazy links. I feel like I need a dictionary. But, I do have to admit that it is fun to get on there. I am following all my favorite bands. They tweet more often than they facebook,especially Matt Maher (perhaps the greatest Catholic rock musician of ourtime). I have REALLY enjoyed twitterstalking him. So after a week oftwitter, I think I understand it better. Tweeting is like making an announcement over a PA system while facebookis like sitting at the lunch table with 300 of your closest friends. There is more accessibility to get your ideasout there through Twitter, while facebook provides more of a conversational experience. See, I’m not too old for all this. I can tweet AND facebook. HA!

For thepast month, my youngest wanted to be a trash bag for Halloween. I was horrified. Why would he want be a trash bag? In these four short years, have I alreadydone collateral parenting damage? Should I go ahead a start him intherapy? Naturally, I tried to talk him out of it. But he was firm. He was going to be a trash bag. So, this past Sunday, I bought some trashbags. I formulated a plan to make atrash bag costume so that looked like we at least tried and didn’t stick atrash bag on him at the last minute. Then, on Monday, he changed his mind. Now he wants to go to the costume store. Now that all the costumes are picked over, he wants to go to the costumestore. I’m ready to talk him back intothat trash bag.

I amgoing to the University of Dallas Ministry Conference tomorrow. I am excited because I am finally going tomeet Lisa Hendy, creator of www.catholicmom.comand author of two great books, A Handbook for Catholic Moms and ABook of Saints for Catholic Moms. Ihave been a contributor to www.catholicmom.comfor a couple years now, so I am excited to finally meet Lisa in person. Since she has read my columns for all theseyears, I feel like she knows me better than most people and it’s quite sillythat we have not actually met.

So, I amREALLY excited that the coffee creamer holiday flavors are finally hittingstore shelves. I love pumpkin spicelatte and peppermint mocha. I don’tunderstand why they only stock these during the holidays. They really brighten my day. Especially on the morning after the martinis, losing game 6 and unchecked facebooking.

I while ago,I mentioned that I was going to review The Third Testament by JohnEklund. Well, I am happy to announcethat in these 3 months since that post, I am over HALFWAY through thebook. I know. It’s sad. I usually read a book in a few days, but these last few months have beencrazy. I laid on the sofa the othernight and started reading and my youngest walked by, stopped dead in his tracks,gave me the strangest look and said, “Mom! WHAT are you DOING?” He was completelytaken aback that I wasn’t moving. Iguess I need to make more of an effort to have down time. Hopefully, it won’t take me another 3 monthsto read the other half of the book. AndI should mention that it is good. Thereis a lot of church history interwoven with the plot. I’m curious to see how everything is going toconclude.

Read more7 Quick Takes at www.conversiondiary.com

Raising Saints Instead of Bullies

2011-10-21T20:44:00.000-07:00

Bullying was the topic at our middle school youth night thispast week. If you follow the news orhave a kid in middle school, you know that the bully factor is an importantissue. Middle school students are morelikely than elementary or high school students to engage in bullying and to bebullied. At this age, they are growingfast. Their brains are developing theability to think abstractly. Theirbodies are maturing. They are trying tofigure out who they are and how they fit into this constantly changing world. All of these factors combine to create these toughmiddle years in their young lives. And unfortunately,the bully factor makes these turbulent waters even tougher to navigate.

Low self-esteem is a big issue for these young people. They are constantly comparing themselves toothers and finding flaws with their appearance, social abilities, academicabilities, athletic abilities, etc… Theywant to stand out from the crowd yet blend in at the same time. They want to be someone who is admired, acceptedand loved and many times they think that someone is someone different than whothey really are. These feelings of inadequacylead to bully behavior. When some youngpeople have low self-esteem, they may pick on others to make themselves feelbetter. When the victims are picked on, alltheir fears about their inadequacies are confirmed. This obviously has a big impact on how theychoose to interact with their peers and perhaps even become bulliesthemselves. It is a nasty cycle that canleave lasting scars on these young people, especially in this age of texting,twitter and facebook.

As Catholic parents, teachers and youth leaders, it is imperativethat we teach our children about the dignity of the human person. And that starts by teaching them about howmuch God loves them- just the way they are. These young people need affirmation. They need to feel loved. Theyneed to know that they are fine in their own skin. In fact, they are wonderful in their ownskin. While they see all their flaws, weneed to point out all their strengths. While they measure themselves against the world, we need to show themhow lovely they look in God’s eyes. Andmost importantly, we need to love them how God loves them. When they find value in themselves, then theyare able to see value in other people. They are more likely to develop the ability to have empathy if they seethemselves in a positive light. Dignityof the human person cannot be taught from a text book. This concept can only be grasped if they finddignity in themselves. And that is wherethe adults in their lives need to work. Weneed to be God’s instrument in their search for their own dignity.

I challenge parents to affirm your kids. Every day, tell them you love them. Every day, tell them how blessed you are tobe their parents. Tell them all thethings you admire about them. Tell themall the things that make them cool and awesome. I admit that I can get too critical of my children. I want so hard for them to succeed that Ispend too much time telling them how they can do things differently. Now, don’t get me wrong. Criticism isn’t a bad thing. But, if we don’t balance criticism with affirmation,then our kids conclude that they are failures. It may be obvious to us that our kids are wonderful, talented andawesome, but it is not obvious to them. They need to hear it. So, tellthem. Make it a daily habit. Help them find their own dignity and thenthey will see dignity in others.

During our youth night, we talked about the GreatestCommandment: “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with allyour being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighboras yourself.” (Luke 10:27) We talkedabout what it meant to love your neighbor as yourself. We talked about how God has given each persondignity and how we need to honor that dignity with love. We discussed that because God lives in eachone of us, the way we treat others directly reflects on how much we loveGod. In order to hammer this point home,I wrote the following piece and read it at the conclusion of our night. I think it is worth sharing:

I know a man who was bullied. I know a man who was bullied by an entirecommunity. He was spit on, yelled at,beaten and humiliated. His communityhated him because he was different. Yousee, this man loved God more than anything. And he obeyed everything God told him to do. He healed people. He taught about God’slove. He provided food and nourishmentto thousands. He even washed theirfeet. But that didn’t seem to matter. The community hated him. And even though he kept loving them, theycontinued to bully him. One day, hiscommunity decided they had enough of him. They put him on trial and declared him guilty of a crime he didn’tcommit. At this point, his few friendsdeserted him. He was alone. When they took him from the court room, thebullies stripped him of his clothes and whipped him. Theywhipped him until he was almost dead. But this wasn’t enough. Thebullies decided to make fun of him. Theyput a purple robe on him and a crown of thorns. The robe stuck to his open wounds and the thorns dug into his head. They laughed at him and called himnames. The bullies pushed him around andspit on him. But this wasn’tenough. The bullies decided that thisman needed to die. They took him out inthe streets and made him carry a heavy cross. Some of the bullies were in the crowd. They yelled at him, spit on him and kicked him when he fell down. Some people in the crowd did nothing. They watched him struggle and felt sorry forhim, but they didn’t try to stop it. Some people in the crowd cried and prayed. They wiped his face when he struggled to moveon. One even helped him when the weightof the cross became too much for him to carry. But no one stopped the bullies. No one kept the bullies from yelling at him or spitting on him. No one called for the torture to end. The bullies marched him up a mountain wherehe collapsed in exhaustion. Theystripped off his robe and tore open all the wounds from his earlier brutalbeating. He felt like he was onfire. They laid his bleeding body on thecross. New waves of pain exploded in hisbody as the bullies hammered nails into his hands and feet. They hoisted up the cross. Then, they gambled for his clothes as hestarted the slow process of suffocation. His mother and best friend stood by and watched him struggle for everybreath. They watched an innocent manbear the weight of a sin he did not commit- the sin of all mankind. When the weight of that sin had taken itstoll, Jesus looked up to heaven and gave up his life.

Prettyamazing, isn’t it? I bet you neverthought of Jesus being bullied. Thetruth is he was bullied- to death. Putyourself in the crowd. Who would yoube? Would you be praying? Would you be weeping? Would you be trying to comfort Jesus? Or would you be spitting on him? Would you be hammering the nails or pressingthat crown of thorns on his head? Wouldyou be standing by and saying nothing? The choices we make today determine who we are in that crowd. The way we treat others determines who we arein that crowd. Who have you been? Who are you going to be?

Jesusbore the weight of all that sin out of love for you and me. He took the punishment that we were supposedto endure so that he may spend eternity with us. He showed us what it means to love anothertotally and completely by giving us his very life as payment for our sin. And what does he ask from us in return? To love him back. And to love others like He loves us.

If youhave been bullied, then you are in good company. Jesus understands your struggle. He doesn’t want you to suffer like hesuffered. Ask him to give you the strengthand courage to seek help from an adult. Jesus desires you to have the freedom he won for you on the cross- notfear.

Seven Quick Takes Friday Vol. 6

2011-10-14T18:38:00.000-07:00

Ahhh… It’s nice to feel somewhat normal again. These last three weeks have been CRAZY. The event that really put it over the top was our middle school youth retreat. It was a great weekend full of fun activities, cool entertainment, engaging teachings and intense worship. And man, planning and carrying out something like that was amazing, exhausting and draining- especially when the other youth minister went down for the count with a migraine and that left me…. in charge. Gasp! But, it went great. The Holy Spirit was really the one in charge. I’m just really good a following directions. Although this was the first time I was in charge of a retreat, it wasn’t my first rodeo. So, I was prepared for the physical exhaustion. The mental and emotional exhaustion was another story. It took me a whole week to be able to think and reason and carry on intelligent conversation again. Whoa.

So, many of my friends are having babies. I think that normally this would make me want to have more babies. But no. I sometimes wonder if God has me doing this home day care so that I will get all this mothering of babies desire out of my system. I have to say that being held hostage by 5 small children in my home 10 hours a day has worked. The thought of carrying the baby to term (which is a challenge for my body in itself), having the baby, paying the hospital bill, waking up in the middle of night to feed the baby, pumping every three hours, dealing with teething, ear infections, and middle of the night vomiting episodes just doesn’t get my mothering hormones pumping. I know that sounds selfish. There was a time when all of that didn’t matter. I would do anything to have that cute little baby in my arms. But those times seem to be over. If the Lord does bless us with another life, then I hope he also blesses me with this desire. But right now, in all of my selfish humanity, I just hope he continues to bless us with our ability to successfully practice NFP. The two boys we have make us feel rather complete.

Like I said, my friends are having babies- including my best friend. After waiting what seemed like FOREVER, she finally got pregnant again. We are ecstatic. And guess what? I get to be her Godmother! Did you see the “her”? Yes, the baby is a GIRL and I get to be her Godmother! I am sooooo excited! This is the first time I am Godmother to a Catholic child. My nephew is my Godchild, but I don’t think I have a formal role since they are Methodist. Now that I have a Catholic Godchild, I feel like I need to read a God-parenting book or something. But first things first. I must buy all the pink baby clothes I can find.

I am wondering if we are going to survive the 6th grade. I don’t remember praying for patience, but since middle school started, the Lord seems to be blessing me with abundant lessons in this skill. And they are rather dangerous lessons for my son because if I fail, he is in the direct line of fire of my fury. So far, he is still alive. But we are only 6 weeks into the school year. I have discovered that middle school is not only a learning curve for him, but also for us. Which is CRAZY because I used to teach middle school!!! I miss the days of him having one teacher, one personality, one person to know all his little eccentricities, one person to identify his potential and help him succeed. Now, I have 7 of these people. And these 7 people don’t have 25 students, but rather 125 students. It is a big learning curve. I am trying unsuccessfully not to helicopter.

This past month has been a big affirmation on why I am NOT a homeschooling mom. Since I hang around a lot of Catholic moms in person and online, I feel sort of in the minority because I don’t homeschool and worse yet, I send my kids to public school. As public school teachers, my husband and I are big proponents of sending our kids to school rather than homeschool. And, as public school teachers (one of whom is retired to stay home with the kids) we cannot afford to send the darlings to Catholic school. So, off to public school they go. And since we work there, it feels okay to do it. Now, over the past year, I have been doing preschool at home and I have been wondering if I should look at the homeschooling thing. However, we went ahead and enrolled our youngest in preschool this year. It was the best decision we could have made. He LOVES it. And he is thriving and growing in ways he could not grow here. Last year, I couldn’t even get him to color. After one month in preschool, he is writing his name. I could not have gotten him to do that. Yes, home schooling is not for us. I am not called to it. My kids are not made for it. And I admire those that are called and whose kids are made for homeschooling. That is a big undertaking that brings unique stressors to the family dynamic. It takes a special family to make it work. I am sure if I worked to make the square peg fit in the round hole, there would not be enough money to pay for all the therapy the children would need- or the liquor bill.

My Dad cracks me up. He recently retired from his second career and landed his “dream job.” Now, let me give you some background. He spent over 20 years in the Navy. He was a hospital administrator in the Medical Corps. He worked his way up through the ranks and even spent part of his duty working for NATO. He retired a Captain. He accumulated two master’s degrees during his navel career- one of those being at the War College. Once he retired from the Navy, he took a job at the Red Cross. He managed one of two national call centers who assisted military personnel and their families with communication during crisis situations like combat. He recently retired from that career as well. And now, he is most excited to land a job as the greeter at the Walters, Oklahoma visitor’s center. He was hoping to be a Wal-Mart greeter one day but never dreamed he would land a job as greeter at the visitor’s center. He feels he has reached the pinnacle of his professional career. HA! Sometimes I wonder if I should be living closer to my parents.

Well, here I am publishing this on Friday night instead of Friday morning. In my defense, I started this on Friday morning. But small children require my attention. All. The. Time. These days, between my day care and the church, I am busier than I ever imagined I would be. So busy that I forget to check my clothes before I race out the door to pick up my child from somewhere. The people at Wal-Mart must think I don’t do laundry since I always seem to be covered in spit-up and ketchup. Maybe I should take Jennifer’s advice and wear an apron. Of course, that is going to make for more laundry. Sigh…

Laying it Down

2011-10-02T19:42:00.000-07:00

“Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”- Matthew 10:39

I realize that it has been a while. To say that I have been busy would be the understatement of the century. These past two months, I have been losing myself. I’ve given away my time. I’ve given away my talents. I’ve sacrificed my sleep, meals and moments with my family. As I type here, I am beyond exhausted. But I have never been more satisfied. I have never been more sure of my path in life. I have never been more complete.

Two months ago, I accepted a youth ministry position in my parish community. I coordinate all the middle school youth events. And yes, I realize that this confirms that I am actually crazy- special kind of crazy. These kids are growing fast. They want to find their place in the world at any cost. They are questioning all the truths they have ever been taught. And they are doing it in a rapidly changing and somewhat confusing world. These young people seem lost, afraid, and unsure of themselves. Yet, they are excited to be at the beginning of this great adventure. And the Holy Spirit has called me to show them just how much God wants to be on that adventure with them.

The Lord has always spoken to me in grand ways through the sorrowful mysteries of the Rosary. Through Mary’s eyes, I have seen the passion of the Lord. I have seen the pain and suffering He endured for our sake and the love that drove Him to it. That experience has taken me to a deeper understanding of that incredible infinite love the Lord possesses for us. Now, once again, the Lord is using these mysteries to speak to me- to teach me about discipleship. He is showing me what it is really like to give away one’s life and to lay it all down at the foot of the cross.

My garden was the chapel. It was two in the morning. It was just me and Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. In that moment He told me what He wanted me to do. He wanted me to be a core member on the middle school youth ministry team. I tried to talk Him out of it. I tried to tell Him that a girl with such a negative experience in her own high school youth group did not need to be involved. I was damaged goods. And the fact that I wasn’t raised Catholic made me all the more unfit for the job. But He said, no. He wanted me to do it. So I did. And while I was that volunteer, he kept bringing me back to the garden. He kept showing me where I really fit. He kept working through me in ways I never dreamed possible. And then He asked if I would do this for real- if I would be a youth minister. I balked. I didn’t have the education or qualifications. All I had was a music education degree. He said that didn’t matter. A position for middle school youth ministry became available in my community. So I applied. I was really doing it.

As disciples, we are called to teach as Jesus taught. We are called to share our lives just as He shared His. And in order to truly do that, we must come to terms with our own failings. We must admit where we fail, work through that failure and allow God to have it and use it for His glory. We must embrace humility and accept our crown of thorns. Yesterday, I wore mine in front of 50 middle school kids. I told them a story of how I deeply hurt a friend when I was their age. I allowed God to use my unflattering story to speak to their hearts. It was not easy. It was not fun. But I happily wear that painful crown for His glory.

Life in ministry is not easy. I got a taste of its demands as a volunteer. But, in the last two months, I have experienced how great those demands can be. It is time consuming. It takes a lot of planning, prayer, and love. It takes sacrifice. I will not get rich in this line of work. In fact, I can't even give up my day job for it. Time has become a precious commodity. Have you heard of the I am Second campaign? Well, I’m not second. I am third- God, others, me. And between this ministry, my family and my day job, the others usually get the time. Which leaves me a sleep deprived, financially challenged, and well drained shadow of a person. But that is my cross. It is the cross He asks me to take up and carry. And He fills me with such joy, peace and love that I can carry it. I can do the impossible. And I do it for His glory.

I am a performer and I am addicted to the stage. The attention the stage brings is intoxicating. The natural high of a great performance is what I live for. And I have discovered that it is what I have to die to. It is not about me. It is not about my message. It is not about my agenda. It is about His. I have to put myself aside and speak the words He wants me to speak. I have to seek Him out and listen to Him in the voices of others. I have to be open to changing the plan as the Holy Spirit desires. I have to get off the stage and let Him be the star of the show. Last night, I got off the stage. I adored the Blessed Sacrament alongside 50 middle school kids. And all I had to do was worship. He moved in that room- in those hearts in ways my words cannot. All I had to do was be in the back of the room and worship with all my being. My humanity wants that stage, but I must die to the stage so that He may be glorified.

Now, my more astute readers may have noticed I skipped the scourging at the pillar. Although, I can find the garden, the crown of thorns, the cross and the crucifixion in my ministry experience, I can never step into the scourging. I have always viewed the scourging as the undue torture of my Lord because of my sin. I know that the entire passion experience was how he defeated our sin and won our salvation, but the scourging was hardest to watch. My Lord was transformed from a strong, healthy man to weakened, bloody mess. His pain in that moment was more than a normal human could bear. I think He has given me an understanding of His pain so that I may have a glimpse of His love. And that awesome love is what keeps me going. The love that drove him to accept that pain and become a bloody mess is what I pray he fills me with in abundance. So much so that it may overflow from my life and touch the hearts of others- all for His glory.

My biggest role in this ministry is to live this life- not just teach about it. It’s like swimming. You can’t teach a person to swim through lecture and study. You have to get in the water and swim with them. And you can’t do that if you don’t know how to swim yourself. We have to have a relationship with the living God if we want to pass along our faith to others. We have to live the life and then share that life. In doing so, we are greatly blessed. The peace, love and joy that flows from sharing in the life of Christ is an intoxicating experience. And that is the payoff to living a life of discipleship in ministry and giving up your life for His glory.

Glory be to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

New App

2011-09-02T11:51:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone! Check out this new catholic app! http://ign.io/beq1g

Seven Quick Takes Friday Vol. 5

2011-07-28T20:20:00.000-07:00

I just finished mowing the lawn. And my word, it is dry out there! I stepped in a few holes, noticed large cracks in the ground and the dust was unreal. In the 8 years we have lived here, I have never seen this before. The lawn that is under the tree in the front is really starting to die. The other side (where there is no tree) seems to be doing okay. I am thinking that the tree must be soaking up what little water is in the ground and leaving nothing for the grass. I adjusted the amount of time the sprinkler zones water from 4 minutes to 10 minutes. Maybe that will save my lawn. I am surprised the Trugreen guy hasn’t given me a big lecture. And, by the way, he doesn’t do rain dances. It isn’t in his contract.

I really feel sorry for all the farmers this year. It must be heartbreaking to put all your money in the ground and then watch the crops die. We have a few farmers on my Dad’s side of the family. My parents and farming cousins all live in a rural town in southwestern Oklahoma. When I was up there this past spring, the drought was just beginning. I went to church(Baptist) with my parents and the Preacher called all the men to the front of the church. They all got on their knees and, man, did they pray for rain. The effects of a drought do not touch us city folk like it touches the farmers. They depend on the forces of nature in a way we don’t understand. I was so touched by their prayer. So, I started adding rain to my daily prayers. I know that God has a plan with this drought and we have to trust that he will provide, but it still hurts to watch all those farmers suffer.

Back to mowing the lawn. So, my husband tells me that he is has been called to fly out to Atlanta this weekend. Long story short, he can’t mow the lawn. Now, he doesn’t point this out to me. I realize in the midst our conversation that he cannot get the lawn mowed. So I say, “Well, I guess I will mow the lawn tonight.” He immediately starts protesting and insisting that he can get it done. I explain to him that he can’t mow in the dark and if we let it go any longer, we are going to lose the dogs and children in the high grass. As he was walking out the door, he was still begging me not to do it. Now I want to know, what is so wrong with me mowing the lawn? Aren’t I doing him a favor? I have not broken the lawn mower in the past and I am pretty sure that I am not capable of breaking it. By his overreaction, I have to conclude he thinks I am stealing his manhood or something. I certainly would not think he was stealing my womanhood if he did some laundry or cleaned a bathroom.

I recently found these cups at Wal-mart. I LOVE them. They are insulated and they have a straw. Thanks to my grinding, I have worn copious amounts of the enamel off my teeth. Therefore, I prefer to drink a cold drink with a straw. For the longest time, I was using my cup from the hospital- you know, the one with the long bendy straw. But the straw broke. I don’t think those cups are meant to last. But you think they would after all that money you spend at the hospital! On the last trip, the bill pre-insurance was $60,000. I think we spent $15,000 and all I got to take home was that cup. Oh, and we also took home our Ben-Ben. I guess he is kind of priceless.

So, next week I am starting my new job (part-time). I am very excited. But I can’t tell you what it is yet. It has not been officially announced. So, you will have to tune in next week.

I am about to review this book. It is a Catholic fiction novel. I am looking forward to reading it. In the back of my mind, I have always wanted to read some catholic fiction. I just never put any effort to actually finding it. And then John Eklund contacted me and asked if I would review his book. So, I didn’t have to put any effort into it! It just showed up in my mail box. I have some selfish reasons for wanting to review it. I think that if I ever wrote anything for real, it would probably be a fiction book. But the idea of writing something that I totally make up that has to be interesting to other people is quite overwhelming. Especially since it a book is longer than 1000 words. Maybe this book will inspire me.

So, for those of you who don’t know, I run a home child care business. I am the lone employee. And yes, I do this in my home. I am fully aware that I am insane. I have five little clients ages 4 and under. They keep me busy and they are my daily lesson on how to have more patience. I must have prayed for patience at some point in my life and now God has provided me with 5 ongoing daily lessons. At any rate, this Wednesday, I decided that the baby needed some space. I have been unable to convince my two toddlers that the baby is not a toy and that if he is in the swing, they do not need to push him. Or steal his pacifier. Or give him enormous amounts of toys. So, I put up some gates to divide the house into two parts- one for the baby and one for the toddlers. The preschoolers can play with the toddlers or join the baby if the toddlers are picking on them or if they want to play with toys that are not appropriate for toddlers. I have to say that this is the most genius idea that I have ever had. All the little people seem much happier for their separate little spaces. And I am no longer pulling my hair out trying to convince the toddlers that the baby is not a doll. In fact, this idea has had such tremendous success that I have decided to put up sturdier gates that require me to drill holes in the wall. Now, if only I can get my husband to tell me where he has hidden the drill bits…

Sing, Dance and Forgive

2011-07-26T18:59:00.000-07:00

“Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you have never been hurt. And live as if this were heaven on earth.”

The above quote has been my motto these past few years. It fits my personality well because I am that crazy girl in the crowd who will happily do just about anything if it will bring a smile to someone’s face. I am content to oblige to most requests - from singing karaoke in a crowded bar to eating spam out of the can because I lost a bet with a room full of teenagers. Yes, the first two in the motto are easy. I am happy to dance (on a stage) like no one is watching and to sing (into a microphone) like no one is listening. But the last two in the list are a challenge. I imagine those last two would be a challenge for most of us.

One of my facebook friends recently asked this question: Is it really wise to love like you have never been hurt? I have been thinking a lot about her question. She has a valid point. When you have trusted another with all of yourself and was betrayed, then the hurt is profound. That hurt makes a lasting mark on your heart. Is it even possible to trust and even perhaps “love like you have never been hurt”?

Although I am very blessed to have never been significantly hurt by those who are closest to me, I have been hurt by people whom I trusted. But relatively speaking, I think that we would be hard pressed to find anyone who hasn’t been hurt or betrayed by another. My experience happened many years ago when I was on my way out of the Baptist church. The ministers I was close with made no effort to speak with me concerning my decision to leave the Baptist church. And considering my relationship with them in the end had been rocky at best, I had to conclude they were happy to see me go. This was a hard pill for me to swallow because I knew they fought hard for all their members. If someone stopped attending church, he or she could expect a visit or a phone call. I was not called. No one tried to visit me. Not even one of my friends in the youth group. Nope. I could almost hear them yelling “don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out!” At the time, I just moved on. I concluded that the lesson learned was to not get close to a Christian community again. From that point on, it was just going to be me and God. I didn’t need brothers and sisters in Christ.

I think my reaction to this hurt is quite typical of most people. When we are hurt, our “fight or flight” instincts kick in. We protect ourselves. We analyze the experience, learn our lesson, and take the necessary steps to avoid that pain in the future. Although that can be healthy - it’s only healthy to a point. If we choose to hold onto the hurt and not forgive the person(s)/act(s), then we cannot be truly healed. We will carry that garbage around and let it burden our souls and affect everything about us. Why is that? Why do we have to forgive in order to be free of the burden?

When we harbor past hurt and pain, we justify the resentment and hatred we hold towards the people who have inflicted that pain. And that resentment gives birth to the fear of loving or of being loved. The only way to let go of that fear, is to forgive the person and act from which the hurt was inflicted. Through forgiveness, we regain the freedom love requires.

But more important than our freedom to love is the fact that the act of forgiving is what Christ commands us to do:

Then Peter approaching asked him, "Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?" Jesus answered, "I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times. That is why the kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants. When he began the accounting, a debtor was brought before him who owed him a huge amount. Since he had no way of paying it back, his master ordered him to be sold, along with his wife, his children, and all his property, in payment of the debt. At that, the servant fell down, did him homage, and said, 'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.' Moved with compassion the master of that servant let him go and forgave him the loan. When that servant had left, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a much smaller amount. He seized him and started to choke him, demanding, 'Pay back what you owe.' Falling to his knees, his fellow servant begged him, 'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.' But he refused. Instead, he had him put in prison until he paid back the debt. Now when his fellow servants saw what had happened, they were deeply disturbed, and went to their master and reported the whole affair. His master summoned him and said to him, 'You wicked servant! I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to. Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?' Then in anger his master handed him over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt. So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives his brother from his heart." (Matthew 18:21-35)

In this parable, Jesus teaches that if we don’t forgive one another, then the heavenly Father will not forgive us. I don’t know about you, but I find it terrifying that at the end of my days, I may stand before the Lord and He will say, “You did many good things and you loved me deeply, but you did not forgive. Therefore, I cannot forgive you”. And boom: there, I am separated from God for eternity.

But, for the sake of argument, let’s set the fear factor aside. In another teaching on forgiveness found in Matthew 5:23-26, Jesus tells us not to come to the altar if we harbor anger in our hearts towards another. I was always confused by this teaching. Just because I am mad at Cindy or Johnny doesn’t mean I am mad at God. How are trusting God with my heart, and trusting Johnny with my heart related? But as I have grown older and somewhat more mature and a little more experienced in the art of love, this teaching has become a little clearer. I think the reason he says this is because we cannot be open to the love he offers us if we fear the vulnerability love requires. When we hold onto the hurt and pain and thus the resentment and perhaps hatred, then we cannot even begin to trust our hearts with anyone else- even God. At the altar, Jesus gives us his heart but we cannot experience His love unless we are willing to give up our hearts in return. That is the definition of love- giving one’s self wholly and completely to another. Therefore, we cannot truly receive the love Jesus offers us at the altar if we hold onto our hearts for fear of letting go. When we choose not to forgive, then we separate ourselves from God here and now. And if we continue to hold onto it throughout our lives, that separation can reach into eternity.

I think that once the dust settles and we see the merits in forgiveness, then most of us desire to forgive. But actually forgiving is a challenge. In most cases, we have to let go of our pride. In my situation, I had to let go of the glory of being right. I had to let go of the idea that the work I did in that church deserved some sort of recognition by the leadership and its members. I had to conclude that the reason I was Catholic was not because I stepped away from the Baptist community, but rather because Jesus brought me exactly to where he wanted me to be. While I wallowed in all the hurt and anger, He found me, comforted me and showed me the beauty of the church He established 2000 years ago. And then He waited for me to realize that I could not fully experience His love unless I was willing to let go of my hurt, my justification, and my pride. Once I forgave, I was able to hand Him all of my heart and be embraced by the community through which He loves. I was able to be reunited with Him.

So, is it wise to love like you have never been hurt? I think so. It’s not easy. It’s not natural. But it is quite necessary if we want to really live. How sad would life be if we always guarded our hearts and never allowed ourselves to be loved? How sad would life be if we never experienced the love and freedom brought forth in forgiveness? How sad would it be to go to Christ’s table and never partake in the love for which he died? How sad would it be if we choose to be separated from God here and now and then into eternity? Yes, it is wise. Partaking in God’s love is where we find life’s meaning, purpose and most of all, pure joy- it is heaven on earth. And how glorious will it be when we stand before the Father and He says “I forgive you, my good and faithful servant.”

Seven Quick Takes Friday Vol. 4

2011-07-23T18:53:00.000-07:00

So, my seven quick takes Friday is happening on Saturday which is a great reflection of my life these past few weeks. My husband has been out of town and we are celebrating his return tomorrow. I think he is looking forward to arriving at a comfortable place that doesn’t smell like a gym or move like a tour bus. He will get his wish but his comfortable place will be filled with toys everywhere, and screaming children. And I may just sneak away from this comfortable place for a little while and let him wallow in the chaos- um, I mean tranquility.

While I have held down the fort all alone these past few weeks, I would be remiss not to admit that it wasn’t that bad this time around. I am not sure if it is because I am getting used to my husband’s absence and all the extra work that his absence entails or if I have just reached a new level of insanity that broadens the parameters of my normal. In these past few weeks, on more than one occasion, I have run low on patience, time, patience, sleep, patience, adult conversation, and patience. But one thing I did not run low on was vodka (cue hallelujah chorus). I refuse to take my kids inside the liquor store so I usually run out of vodka while my man is gone for extended periods of time. This time, I have vodka to spare, so I think that is a good indication that I wasn’t quite as overwhelmed this time around.

This past Thursday, I got to pretend to be a reporter. I covered the Guadalupe Radio Network Summer Speaker Series at the Frontiers of Flight Museum in Dallas for MetroCatholic (www.dfwcatholic.org). Fr. Larry Richards was the speaker. And he was hilarious. On more than on occasion, I flashed back to my days of sitting in a pew in my southern Baptist church on a Sunday morning. Fr. Larry is a great preacher. He tells it like it is with no apology. I had the privilege of interviewing him before the event. And, being that I work with youth ministry, I asked him what advice he would give to a teenager. His answer was awesome and should be the mission statement of every youth minister: (I’m paraphrasing) ‘Today’s young people need to come to know that they are beloved children of God. They need to realize how awesome that is. And in that understanding, they can experience the love of God in a profound way. They come to know that God loves us more that any person ever could. And they need to live in that love.’ Isn’t that awesome? I think it is particularly awesome because young people think they are many things but beloved is not one of them. They spend much of their time trying to feel important to someone- anyone. For them to realize how important they are to God would be a life changing experience for many of them. It would be the beginning of something extraordinary in their lives. It would set them on fire.

Speaking of being on fire, how ‘bout this heat? We are on day 22 of 100+ in a row. I am glad that I had no desire to plant flowers this year. If I had, it would have been easier to take the money outside and light it on fire than try to keep flowers alive. Our lawn is starting to get brown in a few places. And we water it! We water it as much as the city will let us water it. I am sure the TruGreen man is all in a dither. I wonder if he will come do a rain dance on our lawn. Is that in the contract?

So, I am getting to do something today that I do not get to do very often: enjoy a clean house. My kids are with my wonderful Mother-in-law. So, because I have a sickness, I saw a perfect opportunity to get my house CLEAN. I turned up Matt Maher and rocked out with the Lysol, vacuum, and Pledge. Everything is put away. There are no little people to get it right back out and spread it all over the house. I can sit and admire the order. I can bask in my reflection in the coffee table. I can walk around bare footed and not wonder what I am stepping on. And (drum roll please…) the bathroom is CLEAN (which is pretty awesome when you live with a whole bunch of boys). It is a glorious day. I may even get to read a book!

I also got to do something I do not get to do very often- go shopping! I am the cheapest girl on the planet so shopping is always hard. I dread parting with the little bit of money I manage to scrape together for the blessed event. But today, I did well. I got three dresses and a pair of dress pants at Ross for $70. Not bad. And then I went to Two Hearts Catholic book store. What I saved at Ross was spent there. I did get Fr. Larry’s book Be a Man! which is turning out to be really interesting. It is supposed to be for men but, since I live with all boys, I figured I was allowed to read it. I also finally bought Lisa Hendey’s book A Handbook for Catholic Moms. I am embarrassed that I write for catholicmom.com but I have never read her book! She has a new book coming out in October so I need to knock this one out first. Also, I figured I would need a book on how to be a Catholic woman after reading about how to be a Catholic man.

I fear that my oldest son is turning into a…..(heavy sigh)….teenager. We seem to be dealing with mood swings. He is going off to middle school this year at a school in a new district. And I fear this change is going to be tougher than we originally thought. I am praying that he makes some friends- and fast. And good friends, of course. He needs these friends because I am clearly NOT COOL anymore. Somehow, I have crossed from the realm fun, loving Mom to dorky Mom who just doesn’t get it. I don’t think that Dad has made this transition. I think his absence has made the teenage heart grow fonder. So, that is good for now. I think this dorky Mom needs to read some books. And hit her knees. May God have mercy on all of our souls.

A Journey Through Time

2011-06-25T07:04:00.000-07:00

Life is a journey. We are travelers through a land called time. Because time is always moving, so are we. We are always in motion. We do not stop. On this journey through time, we see beauty and horror. We experience joy and sorrow. We find peace and unrest. Time’s terrain is rugged. Its climate is unpredictable. In one moment we find ourselves on top of the highest mountain and the next drowning in the cold, deep sea. Just when we start to feel comfortable in the warm sun, storms arise. Warm days give way to cold nights. Time is a harsh land. Those who journey here are shaped and molded. Time leaves it mark and the travelers are forever changed. But, what happens when we get to the end of time? What lies beyond time?

This journey through time is our opportunity to get to know God. We experience Him through His exquisite creation. We see him in the faces of our fellow travelers. We feel him in a child’s kiss or a mother’s touch. God is present with us in time. He is wooing us to His kingdom. He is showing us glimpses of Himself in the hopes we will travel through time to where He is.

For those of us who choose God on this journey, it does not guarantee the journey will be easy. You see, we are not made for this world. We are just traveling through it. God allows time to shape us and mold us. God uses time to grow us into the people He wills for us to be. He prepares us for the wedding - the day when we will unite with Him in the kingdom at the end of our journey through time.

Like any traveler, we need to be nourished. We need to eat and drink and rest. And God knows this. Our physical world is a reflection of the spiritual world. Just like we need water and food for our physical bodies, we need similar nourishment for our souls. If we are to keep traveling to His kingdom, we need spiritual sustenance on this journey through time.

“For just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth making it fertile and fruitful, Giving seed to him who sows and bread to him who eats, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.” (Isaiah 55: 10-11)

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him and without him nothing came to be. What came to be through him was life and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1: 1-5)

(Jesus said)”Do not work for food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on him the Father, God, has set his seal.” (John 6:27)

“So Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave the bread from heaven; my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” So they said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.” (John 6:32-35)

“Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me.” (John 6: 53-57)

So, what is the sustenance God provides for us as we travel through life? His son present in the Eucharist. At every Mass, we take a journey through time. We arrive at the cross. We witness His sacrifice. We celebrate His resurrection. Then we experience His life as we receive the Eucharist. Christ gives us nourishment for the journey. And He hopes we will stay on this ill-traveled road and make our way to His kingdom where He will make us an everlasting gift to the Father.

Seven Takes Friday Vol. 3

2011-06-17T05:33:00.000-07:00

In June of 2006, I was sitting in a Bennigan’s in San Antonio watching the Mavericks fold under the pressure of the Heat. I knew they could play better. I knew they could shut down Wade. But they couldn’t pull it together in time and we lost out on our chance at our first ever NBA Championship. Combine that gut wrenching defeat with the fact that the Mavs shut down a new and improved Heat (Wade, Bosch, and King James) and you have the sweetest championship victory in NBA history. The good guys won. The nice guys came away champions. How awesome it is to live in Dallas on this glorious occasion. LETS GO MAVS!

Now that I got that out of my system, let me admit that I have not kept up with the 7 takes Fridays these past few weeks. I’ve got a lot of excuses. But I won’t bore you with them.

This past Sunday, my oldest went away to boy scout summer camp for the first time. He was nervous which made me even more nervous. I want him to make memories, not nightmares. I want him to have fun, not be miserable. I want him to grow as a person, not feel less of one. I have not been able to talk to him since he left. And that is unnerving. I hope he is doing well. I hope he is having fun. And I hope he is wearing sunscreen, bug spray and has taken a shower at least once.

Along with the revival of 7 takes Friday, I have also revived my time at the gym. Tonight, I ran 2.75 miles in 30 minutes which isn’t bad for an old lady. However, I feel like I have a tire around my waist. I can’t wait for the extra 10-15 pounds to come off. It is driving me crazy. My previous gym was a ladies only gym. My new gym is not. Let me say that I like the change. Ladies tend to walk on the treadmill so I was always running next to walkers. Now, I have a whole bunch of running men next to me. And I like it! I didn’t realize how much easier it is to keep going when you feel like you are running with someone.

I am not that far into Screwtape, but it has already made an impression on me. What a great and model patient I have made for the devil. I fall for all these tricks. Especially, the one where the devil gets between you and your loved ones. Recently, I have two situations where I could tell the spiritual warfare was at play. And they both involve my being upset with my husband. In the first situation, I didn’t respond to the bait. I kept silent and I prayed for Jesus to take this anger away from me. It took most of the day, but it worked. As the day wore on, I could see things from his perspective and I could focus on what really mattered. In the second situation, I took the bait. I blew up. And in the end I could see how ridiculous my behavior was. The devil got the best of me in that one. I’m a little afraid to keep reading Screwtape. I fear I am going to see even more of my true colors. I guess that will make me appreciate the love and MERCY of God on a greater level.

I have decided I want a color Nook for my birthday. My Mom and my Sister have color Nooks while my Mother-in-law and Sister-in-law have Kindles. The Kindle is cool and cheaper. It serves its purpose well. However, the color Nook appears to be really cool. It can do more than just books. Although it doesn’t appear to be as cool as an iPad, it does go on the internet and it runs apps. If I had money to burn, I would just get an iPad. But, sadly, I don’t so I will have to settle for the next best thing. If one of you has an opinion with regard to the Nook vs. iPad vs. Kindle vs. tablet computer, please feel free to share.

Two weeks ago, I got two new fillings. Let me back up by saying I really despise going to the dentist. My dentist is a very nice person, but what she does to me is just plain mean. I am pretty sure that hell is filled with drill wielding dentists who insist you have enough Novocain before they hold you down and drill out all your teeth for eternity. Anyhow, I got the fillings. That evening, I put my night guard in (I have TMJ issues because I grind my teeth into an oblivion while I sleep) and it didn’t fit quite right. So, I bit down on it and I heard a crack. I could not tell from the chip I found in my mouth if it was the filling or the night guard. So, I made another appointment and went back to the dentist. Turns out it was neither- it was a tooth. Now, in all the moments before she told me I chipped my tooth, I had no pain in that tooth. As soon as I got home from the appointment, the tooth started hurting. It’s gotta be all in my head, right?

A Light in the Darkness

2011-06-10T22:08:00.000-07:00

We walked towards the empty chapel. Although my kids have been in the chapel before, it has always been brief and filled with people. This will be the first time I am able to really talk to my oldest son about what is in the chapel- who is in the chapel. The lit candle flame above the tabernacle danced with the darkness as we entered the sacred space. Its small light seemed to miraculously touch every corner of the dim room as if the darkness stepped aside to admire its joyful dance. As our eyes drew in its beauty, I leaned in towards my son and softly said, “When that candle is lit, it means Jesus is in the tabernacle.”

“Really?” my son answered. As his eyes turned from the candle to the tabernacle, he fell to his knees. The candle’s light danced on his awestruck face. Then he closed his eyes, bowed his head and began to silently pray.

I came to the chapel prepared to explain why Jesus was there. I came there ready to prove to my son that He does reside in there. I came ready for a debate. Instead, I found myself humbled by the child whose faith required no explanation. He didn’t need my answers. He knew his King was on the throne in that little chapel. He was awestruck. So, he knelt. And he prayed.

As I watched him, I wanted to reach back through my years and grasp that child-like faith I once carried. I wanted to just believe without the head full of knowledge confirming what my young heart already knew all those years ago. I wanted to kneel beside him with an innocent and awestruck mind and not worry that the world calls me crazy. I longed for the child-like faith free the doubt and fear my fallen human nature easily harbors.

As Christians, we go through peaks and valleys. We have our mountain top moments and we have our moments where we feel alone and abandoned. Lately, I have been in the valley. It’s not my first time here. And I know it won’t be my last. I know these moments in the darkness are my opportunities to love the Lord anyway. They are my moments to rise above the despair and stay obedient and steadfast on this journey. But unfortunately, I fail. I fail to pray. I fail to hope. I fail to believe. I feel the fiery arrows of the evil one coming toward me and I fail to put up my shield. I fail to call out to my God. And I lay down in defeat and wonder if I’ll ever have the desire to rise again.

While my defeated spirit stood in that dim chapel longing for a child’s simple faith, I began to watch the light dancing above the tabernacle. I realized how powerful the candle’s small light is against the darkness. I observed how its joy chased away the fear darkness holds. I saw how easily it reached the blackest corners of that sacred space and how beautiful it made everything it touched- especially the face of my faith-filled child. That beauty stirred up the hope I had surrendered. His unquestionable faith stirred up my will to believe. And the desire to hit my knees and call out to my God began to bubble up inside of me.

Although I am still in the valley, I am rising to find my armor. I am lifting my shield. I am opening my eyes and waiting to see the light the Lord has placed in my soul. I have hope in the beauty the light brings to this life. And soon, I will be looking for the next mountain. I will be ready to climb.

“What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:3b-5)

Seven Quick Takes Friday Vol. 2

2011-05-27T05:39:00.000-07:00

This week, I am thankful for the technology that enables the weather man to tell me if there is a tornado coming towards my house. It has been a stressful spring. I feel for all those people in Alabama and Joplin. I can’t imagine what they have faced and are facing. The latest of the many storms that have blown through here let loose a straight line wind that took down part of our tree out front. When that wind hit the house, my husband happened to be leaning against the wall and he felt the wall move. The noise it made was scary as was the helpless feeling that washed over me. And that was only a small glimpse into what the people of Joplin and Alabama experienced. May the love and mercy of God pour into their lives in insurmountable ways.

Also this week, I have discovered just how bad the drainage is in the back yard. And I am going to go out here on a limb and conclude that the big giant stone wall that lines our back yard is the culprit. The stone wall belongs to our lovely HOA. We are not on speaking terms with the HOA. I am thinking of calling them and complaining and demanding that they fix it. Or else I am going to move the broken range out of the garage and into the garden. I think it would make a lovely planter.

I spent a day off facebook this week. And it was good. I didn’t realize how much anxiety I carry around because I am always on it. It’s like constantly being at lunch in high school. You know, sitting around and thinking of the next cool thing to say, trying to impress your friends, hoping you look good and craving the feedback that you actually do look good. I totally didn’t realize how much of this I bought into. It wasn’t until I was off that I realized what I was doing. It was good to let go of the anxiety. I think I will stay off for a while longer.

Well, the old lady back still rules my life. I have spent as much time as six kids will allow me to spend horizontal on the sofa- which wasn’t much by the way. I have not been to the gym. I am going to try to get it feeling better over the long weekend before hitting the treadmill. I probably need to go back to the chiropractor. I don’t want to go back to the chiropractor. Just like I don’t want to go to a doctor. I feel sorry for my children. They will have to deal with a crazy old lady who refuses to visit the doctor for any reason. I may need to increase the amount of money I set aside for their future therapy bills.

I am looking forward to spending the long weekend at my parent’s house. They live in Out in the Middle of No Where, Oklahoma. You know- the place just past where Jesus lost his sandals. I love going out there. It is so quiet. The air is fresh. My Mom is there making sure that I sit down and relax. She’s making me blueberry coffee cake. The kids can play outside with little worry. It is a nice change from the suburbs of Dallas. It is nice to be surrounded by what God has made instead of what man has made. It’s just nice. I’m bringing books.

A few months ago, our washer and dryer committed suicide. We replaced them with some LG front loaders. One thing that I really like about them is the song it plays. Instead of sounding an annoying buzzer, they play a cute little song. This song is somewhat familiar, but I cannot figure out what it is. And it is driving me crazy! I know it is a real song because it sounds like one of the little songs I taught over and over in beginning band. But I cannot put my finger on it. Now I don’t know what is worse, the song I can’t name or the buzzer.

I have to confess that I haven’t been completely faithful in my prayer life this week. I have been sleeping through it because my back feels so good in that bed. When I don’t feel good, I struggle with keeping my quiet time sacred. People who chronically suffer with pain and still remain faithful to their quiet time are superheroes in my book. The few times that I have gotten up and prayed, I have been lamenting over this back issue. I am frustrated that it won’t go away. I am only 33. I should be able to train for a half marathon. But then, when I say that, I feel guilty. There are many others out there with real health problems. I should be thankful for what I have rather than lament for what I don’t have. When do I ask for healing and when do I offer it up?

So, What's Your Story?

2011-05-24T20:56:00.000-07:00

Stories are powerful. We love to hear about other people and their experiences. We are drawn to other’s woes and wonders. We are fascinated with how others deal or fail to deal with life’s curve balls. Our books, movies, T.V. shows, tabloids and plain old coffee shop gossip center around stories. We love to hear them and tell them. They are our intangible possessions. All of our material possessions can be taken away, but we will always have our stories. They are the true stock of our lives and the living legacy that makes up the heritage of our families and societies.

Our Lord knows this about us. He is familiar with our love affair with stories. And that is why He used parables to teach about the love and mercy of God. I recently took a class where we studied how Jesus taught the disciples. And most lessons He taught were born of a parable or story. We seem to get the lesson if it’s interwoven in a good story. It’s one thing for Jesus to tell us to truly repent and we will be forgiven. But it’s another when He tells us the story of the prodigal son. In His story, we have a deeper understanding of the Father’s mercy and love.

As Christians, we love to tell the stories in the bible. We tell them to our children, study them in classes, and hear them proclaimed at Mass. We tear apart their meaning and purpose and try to apply them to our lives. We truly understand that Christ lives in those stories. He reaches out through His stories and touches our hearts. These stories are the heritage we share and legacy that courses through our veins with Christ.

That last part is what I want to touch on. Christ LIVES in us. He is alive in our hearts. He is at work in our lives. And the way He lives through us is in our stories. We have to reach out and share. We have to tell each other how Christ has touched our lives. If we don’t let Him live in our stories, then we don’t let Him live in this world. And this world desperately needs our Lord. We have to be bold and brave. We have to share how our lives are touched, molded and blessed by Christ. That is how Christ is able to shine in this dark world. We are the candles while He is the flame.

This is why I blog. This is why I publish my life all over the internet. Well, the interesting parts at least. I’ve been doing this for a while, but it wasn’t until recently that I could put the words as to why I do it. I do it for Him. He died for me. He bore all my sin on that cross. He makes me an everlasting gift to the Father. Sharing my life in this way is what He asks me to do. So I do it. It’s the least I can do. My obedience is so small and insignificant compared to His love and sacrifice for me. I wish I could do more. But I can’t lose sight of the fact that Jesus is alive, here in this medium through my story and the stories of other obedient and courageous men and women of Christ. This is what it means to be alive in Christ.

I recently shared my conversion story with a new website (http://www.whyimcatholic.com/) which features the conversion and reversion stories of Catholic men and women. On this site, you will find some interesting people with fascinating stories. I encourage you to check it out. And then I encourage you to find your own story. Share it. Allow Christ to reach through your life and touch other hearts. Be alive in Him.

Seven Quick Takes Friday

2011-05-20T06:44:00.000-07:00

Well, I’m going to give this seven takes thing a try. I was inspired by Jennifer Fulwiler’s Seven Quick Takes Friday. But she is a real writer while I just pretend so we will see how this goes. I like the idea because it gets me writing at least once a week. I have fallen of the wagon lately with the written word so, I hope, this will get me close enough to the wagon to jump back on. I apologize for the random nature of these takes. I fear it will be a true reflection of my scatter-brained personality.

So, I was outside in the yard the other day cleaning up after the dogs(as in picking up the poop). And I thought to myself, if aliens ever visited our planet, I wonder what they would think of this. I wonder if they would question who the more intelligent life form is. Is it the dog that lies around all day or the human who feeds the dog, cleans up the dog’s poop, is taken for a walk by the dog and seems to cater to the dog’s every need? In our house, it would be hard to tell. But that also got me thinking. What must the aliens think of the God who died for the humans who may or may not even believe in His existence? I guess my cleaning up after the dog is much like what Jesus does for us on a daily basis. He picks up all the crap we make out of our lives and does away with it. All the stickiness in our souls is gone. And yes, I do realize how sad my life is that God has to use this moment to speak to my heart.

Since we are on the subject, I have to say I’m impressed with the new Great Value brand toilet paper at Walmart. It can shake a stick at Charmin. I like their paper towels too. They can shake a stick at Bounty. They are both absorbent and strong. And since I use a lot of these products in my line of work, I am happy to discover them at such low-cost and high quality. Yes, how sad that this is the high light of my week.

As some of you know, I published my conversion story on www.whyimcatholic.com . You should check out this website. It has some great stories. But get comfortable because some of them are rather long. Anyhow, yesterday, I find an email in my inbox from a news agency in Spain requesting an interview. The journalist is writing an article about my conversion story. Really? I can’t help but think that there are way more interesting stories out there to write about. But, I have to say that it is nice to have the affirmation. Especially since I can brag to my semi-famous husband that I am an international sensation! But, don’t worry, I’m not letting it all go to my head. Besides, I am sure the Holy Spirit will have another experience waiting for me around the corner that will knock me out of the clouds and back on dry ground where I belong.

So, my semi-famous Husband worked every night this week. Every. Flippin’. Night! And we are feeling the effects of his absence. My four-year old wandered downstairs this morning and looked at me with his groggy little eyes and asked me where Daddy was. You see, last night he got to see his Daddy for the first time in four days. I had a class so Daddy came and got the children and took them to his 7pm meeting. Ben must have had a great time playing in his office and just being with his Daddy again. Because this morning, when I told him Daddy had already gone to work, he let out a blood curdling scream. I am not looking forward to this summer when Daddy will be gone for weeks at a time. I have a feeling Ben will make his opinions about his Daddy’s absence known loudly and often. Fun times. Fun times.

Last week, I broke down and joined a gym. The gym I belonged to for about 7 years went out of business 10 months ago. When they closed, I planned to just run outside. I didn’t need a gym to get exercise. Well, guess how many times I actually ran outside. ZERO. I finally decided that it wasn’t happening and I needed a gym. And it needed to have child care. So, I did it. And I went faithfully for a week. I was really excited because I was running 3 miles in about 33 minutes. I was getting my mojo back. And then, three days ago, I bent over and that familiar old lady back pain shot through my back and into my butt. My type A personality has no time for this! The back has been resting for the past three days. I will hit the treadmill this afternoon. My old lady back is not going to arrest my youthful mojo. I know. Famous last words.

I’ve decided to read The Screwtape Letters. I really do not have a lot of reading time, but I decided I need to read this book. I see it referenced in many of the books on theology I have read lately. I know that most people probably read this book in college or something, but somehow I missed out on that experience. There wasn’t much C.S. Lewis on my college reading list which I find perplexing since I went to a Catholic university. I also find it interesting that C.S. Lewis wasn’t Catholic. I wonder what his big hang up was. Maybe one of you can fill me in.

So, there you have it- seven random thoughts that have been rolling around in my head. I have to admit, it was a little therapeutic to get them out and it’s nice to see that wagon in the distance. Hope you have a great weekend.

The Fishermen

2011-05-02T19:47:00.000-07:00

Today, I watched a little history. I got my popcorn ready and curled up on the sofa. And I turned the DVR to the Beautification of John Paul II. You thought I was going to talk about the royal wedding, didn’t you? Now, don’t get me wrong. I did watch the royal wedding. Kate’s dress was beautiful. And the music was fantastic. But, I believe the Blessed John Paul II upstaged the royal couple. Big time. That was a beautiful couple hours. And the longest Mass ever!

So, after watching all that holiness for so long, you will never guess what I put on next. Have you seen that show Deadliest Catch? You know, the show about the crab fishing in the Bering Sea? I know, it’s like the opposite of the Beautification of John Paul II. They are cursing, and smoking and not behaving in a Godly manner. But for some reason, I kept watching it. And I came to admire these men for their passion, determination, and willingness to throw their hopes and dreams into the sea. These men are gamblers. They are gritty. They are fishermen. I was fascinated.

While watching this show with JPII fresh on my mind, I realized something. Jesus didn’t go to the temple to call his disciples. He went to the boats. He went to the fishermen. Peter and John and many other disciples were fishermen. These were men who put all their hopes and dreams into the sea. They were gritty gamblers who didn’t spend the majority of their time in the temple but on their boats. If they were to hold true to the stereotype personified in the Deadliest Catch, they may not have spent any time in the temple. Perhaps, following the letter of the law was not at the top of their list. Yet, these are the men Jesus called. Can you imagine Peter as a man like Phil or John as a man like Sid? These men have caring hearts but I’m not going to put money on the chance I would see them at Mass on a Sunday or even in prayer on their boats. But these were the type of men Jesus called. Upon these men, Jesus built his Church- the Church that has endured the test of time for 2000 years.

In all the pomp and circumstance surrounding the beautification and canonization of great men and women who lived for Christ, I think we lose something. We hold these people up on a pedestal and by doing so, we think the holy life they walked is a little unobtainable for us. But that is not true. I think that Blessed John Paul II would gladly admit that he is just a fisherman who lived for Christ. We all have our own unique story- our own unique walk with the Lord. We all don’t get on that path to holiness from the same route. We don’t have to be Priests or Nuns or experts on church doctrine. The Lord calls us to the path of holiness regardless of where we are in life. Although most of us will never be beautified or canonized, it doesn’t mean that we weren’t holy enough. It doesn’t mean we won’t get to heaven. Living a holy life is as simple as going when he says, “Come, and follow me.” For the gritty men in those boats 2000 years ago, that meant leaving the boats behind and literally following Jesus. For Blessed John Paul II, that meant a life as a priest and then eventually, the Vicar of Christ. But for you and me, it can mean working with Pro-life or helping out at the Samaritan Inn, or getting involved with that ministry at church that you’ve been drawn to. Just think, if he can establish the Church through some gritty, not-so-pious fishermen, imagine what he can do with you and me.

Waiting for the Lord

2011-04-22T21:25:00.000-07:00

This was the day they waited. The Lord was dead. They mourned and they waited. I can only imagine what that was like. They were afraid. They were distraught. They were defeated. They didn’t understand what happened. They didn’t know what was going to happen. All they could do was wait.
I don’t know about you, but I am not good at waiting. I avoid waiting at all costs. I shop when everyone else is home so I don’t have to wait in line. I have found many short cuts through obscure neighbors around town so I don’t have to wait in traffic. And when I do have to wait, I come armed with things to distract me- like a book or my phone. But in my defense, waiting has become a thing of the past in this world of instant gratification. We have technology at our finger tips giving us needed information and communication instantly. In our society, the art of waiting has wasted away.

Although we don’t wait as often, there are some circumstances in life that require us to wait- like medical test results, a job offer, our loved one to return from Iraq, or for the bank to approve that desperately needed loan. In those times, waiting is hard. Especially when it seems as if your very life hangs in the balance. I imagine that is what the disciples felt like. They placed all their love, hope and faith in Jesus. And he was gone. Their very lives- their very souls hung in the balance. And they desperately missed their Lord.

There have been a few times in my life when I have had to wait. The hardest time was waiting for my premature son to be strong enough to leave the NICU after he was born. And the waiting was made worse because we were several hours away from home. He was born in San Antonio and we live north of Dallas. The waiting was hard. Would we be there a week? Would it be a month? Or would he take a turn for the worse? There was nothing I could do to make it go faster. There was nothing I could do to make it easier. All I could do was wait and hope and pray. My son’s life was hanging in the balance. As a desperate mother, I couldn’t imagine an outcome that wasn’t positive. I placed all my hope and trust in the Lord. I prayed with all my soul that my son would be okay, that we could bring him home and when it was all over, we could pay the medical and hotel bills. The Lord blessed us with all those requests. Through the waiting, He called me to depend on Him and He grew my faith.

While we see waiting as torture, God doesn’t see it that way. He uses waiting to mold us and form us. He makes us into the people he made us to be while we wait. Like the disciples, we sometimes feel the absence of our Lord in the waiting. Our faith is tested. Our humanity is tried. Sometimes we fail and sometimes we rise. But one thing is certain. The Lord will never forget us. His love is so much bigger than the crosses we bear. In the waiting, he hopes we will find and embrace that amazing love and allow Him to help us carry our heavy load.

So, today we wait with the disciples. And we wait with joyful hearts. Because we know what is around the corner. We know He is coming back. We know He did not forget us. Today we wait, but tomorrow we celebrate the joy the disciples discovered at the empty tomb. All glory and honor be to the Father, and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit forever and ever.

Mary's Fiat

2011-04-21T11:43:00.000-07:00

I put this video together for one of the youth nights at my church. It depicts the relationship between Mary and Jesus using scenes from a few different movies. Scroll all the way to the bottom to turn off the blog music before you watch it.

The Passion Experience in Real time

2011-04-21T08:38:00.000-07:00

The Passion Experience - Easter 2011 from Incarnate Network on Vimeo.

This is pretty cool! Check it out. I plan to do some reposting on facebook as events unfold on Good Friday. Share Jesus' passion with the world.

Lent or Bust

2011-04-08T18:34:00.000-07:00

So, how’s your Lent going? Is it all you thought it would be? Have you kept your Lenten promises? Well, my Lent has not been all that stellar. I struggled with what to give up this year. I finally settled on ridding myself of sweets and coffee mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else. Afterwards, I felt like I was being childish. Only kids give up sweets. So that idea made it easy to cheat. And I did. Then I felt guilty. But then I felt silly because only kids give up sweets. ARGHHHHH!

This Easter, I will be celebrating my 14th year as a confirmed Catholic. There was so much I didn’t know or understand 14 years ago. And one of those things was Lent. My understanding of Lent was limited to no meat on Fridays and that you should probably give up something. I am sure I was told more about the season, but I didn’t really understand the why behind Lent so that info was lost on me. When I converted, I still had a lot of Southern Baptist ideals to let go of and the season of Lent was one of them. But over the last 14 years, I have gained a better understanding. Lent is a time to suffer a little for the Lord. It is a time to fast from the pleasures of the world. It is a time to give until it hurts. It is a time to pray like time doesn’t matter. It is a journey we take so that we may be reborn, renewed and refreshed in our faith and our Lord.

There is one Lenten promise that I have been working very hard to keep. The Lord has impressed upon me over the last few months how important it is to understand His suffering- how he suffered, what he felt/feels, and why he suffered. I was really confused as to why he wanted me to go on this journey with him. And then in Mass one night, he told me: his love is greater than his pain. By understanding his suffering, then we have a greater understanding of his love. So, this Lent, I decided to spend some time understanding the Lord’s suffering. I came across an independent bible study called People of the Passion by Stephen Binz (Threshold Bible Study). This study takes the reader into Christ’s passion through the eyes of the eyewitnesses. I have found it very interesting to look at Christ’s last moments from this perspective. I’ve put myself in their shoes and wondered how I would have faced the Lord. As part of my Lenten promise, I have been blogging my way through it (http://www.bloggingthroughlent.blogspot.com/ ). You can visit the link if you would like a closer look at this experience.

So I guess my Lent isn’t a total bust. I am doing my best to keep up with this bible study. That was the last shred from my broken Lenten promises I was desperately holding onto. But then, I went to the Stations of the Cross this past Wednesday and Father gave a brief talk about the stations before we began. And he looked right at me and said, “I am sure all of us have broken our Lenten promises by now. But that doesn’t mean you should give up. Jesus fell three times on his journey with the cross, and he didn’t give up. Keep trying.” So, now I need to keep trying to give up sweets? Really?! ARGHHHHHH!

Letting Him Go

2011-03-24T21:22:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, my oldest son who just crossed over into boy scouts will be going off to camp with his troop for the first time. Now, a normal Mother would be a little teary eyed and stressed at the idea of her little boy going off out into the woods and leaving the umbrella of parental supervision. A normal Mom may feel anxiety at the thought of sending her son alone into the wild blue yonder with just a change of clothes, a water bottle and a mess kit. Some Moms may even try to meet their child for a meal during the camping event just to make sure he is okay. But no, not this Mom. Nope, this Mom has been waiting for this glorious day. Because this Mom HATES camping. And if he can go alone, then ALLELUIA! This Mom has something to celebrate! No more camping! Ever! Again! Well, at least for another three years. Then I get to start all over with son #2. Sigh.

But for now, I am excited. At least I was excited. Then, about an hour ago, I realized that my son has to be at the church tomorrow at 6:00 and we have not packed anything. In fact, I do not even know the details of the trip. You see, I handed over all scouting duties to my husband once the child crossed over from cub to boy. I figured it was time for Mom to step down and Dad to step in- unless they wanted to do a scrapbooking or cake decorating merit badge. But something tells me they would rather look at bugs and play with bows and arrows. Anyhow, Dad has taken over. And Dad is about as organized as my son’s sock drawer. So, it should have been no surprise to me at all when he announced (just 55 minutes ago) he had a concert tomorrow night- the night our son needed to be at church for camping. And that our son had no hiking shoes. Or backpack. You can imagine the less than heavenly thoughts I had for my husband at that moment. Sigh.

So, I decided to go over all the stuff I need to help my son get together for tomorrow evening. And, while going over the checklist, anxiety started to creep in. Is he ready for this? Will he be okay? Does he know what to do if he gets a blister? Or if he is attacked by a wild animal in the middle of the night?!?! What am I thinking? Can I really send him out there? Will he make it back to me in one piece?

After my minor heart attack, I went and poured myself a glass of wine and sat down at the computer. I am working on a project for our next youth group gathering. It’s a video about the awesomeness of Mary. As I stared at the screen, I was instantly reminded of what she was asked to do. Not only did God ask her to be the Mother of the Word Incarnate, but he also asked her to let him go. She had to let him go do what he needed to do. And that meant he needed to die. I cannot even imagine what that was like for her. I could not have done what she did- watch her son suffer and die on that day when the earth stood still. I would have interfered at every turn. I would have behaved like a lunatic most of that day. But our Mother Mary did not. She was his rock. She supported him and comforted him in every possible moment of that impossible day. She let him go and conquer the world. Mary’s role in our Lord’s life is incredible. There are no words to describe how great of a Mother she was to him.

So, if Mary can do what she did, then I guess I can let my son go camping without me. He is a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. And although he has inherited his father’s organizational skills, he seems prepared. He is excited for the new adventure. How lame would it be for his “Mommy” to tag along? Okay- you got me. I wasn’t even entertaining that idea! But really, he is going to have to be out there on his own at some point. He is going to have to get his feet wet somehow. Going out into the wild blue yonder with his boy scout troop is probably a good thing. Maybe he will find something to conquer. I think I will go pour another glass of wine. Sigh.

Old Thomas

2011-03-07T19:29:00.000-08:00

This is my little son’s favorite toy.

His name is Old Thomas. As you can see, he is well loved by a rambunctious little boy. Old Thomas goes on many adventures in and out of the house, is brought to every meal, and most importantly is tucked in right next to my little son each night. Before Christmas, Old Thomas was just Thomas. Then under our tree, Santa left a new Thomas. So just Thomas became Old Thomas. To nobody’s surprise, the shiny, clean, new Thomas wasn’t the same. When Old Thomas is misplaced, New Thomas doesn’t get the job done. Apparently, Old Thomas’s shoes are just too big to fill. Old Thomas holds a special place in my little son’s heart.

I think we all carry around a bit of Old Thomas. There is a part of us that is well worn, chipped, and even broken. But for some reason, we want to hold onto that part. We want to live in our broken selves because that is where we feel comfortable. That is our familiar world and sometimes the familiar is easier than the unknown. Sometimes the familiar is more appealing than the shiny, new and remade life.

I do carry around my fair share of Old Thomas. I have been worn, scarred and even broken. Perhaps the biggest piece of my Old Thomas is a hurt I carry from many years ago. It was inflicted by those I loved and respected when I was on my way out of the Baptist Church. It wasn’t easy to hear that I no longer fit in. It hurt when those whom I trusted were happy to let me go- even walk me to the door. When I was going through this event, I was too proud to acknowledge that they hurt me. I didn’t realize that I was scarred and that those scars kept me from being involved in a new faith community. It wasn’t until I tried to be involved that I realized just how ugly and deep those scars ran. In that moment, I had a choice. I could keep my scars, stay uninvolved, and live in my comfortable yet broken world. Or, I could bring those scars to the one who could heal them. And once whole, I could live the life He created for me- a life with Him and with a faith community. So, I decided to give up my Old Thomas and let the Lord make it new again. His first order of business was for me to face my fears head on. I had to go talk to a real, living, breathing, flesh and blood Priest. And not just go to confession, but really talk to him. I needed to tell him who I was, where I came from, how I was hurt all those years ago. I had to be vulnerable to the person who epitomized the ministers that inflicted those lasting scars. I had to look the bear straight in the eye and trust he wasn’t going to rip me to shreds, or worse yet, show me the door. So I did it. I went and talked to him. I thought I was going to have a panic attack right before our meeting, but I walked into his office anyway. And after I told him why I was there and what I needed to say, he asked, “What are you most afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that people will think I’m crazy.” I couldn’t look at him when I said it for fear that he would see the fresh tears in my eyes. In that statement, I was trying to say that I wouldn’t fit in- that I would be asked to leave again. And he caught onto what I meant. Then he said the words my heart needed to hear, “I don’t think you are crazy.” He asked about my family and friends and how they reacted to my Catholic conversion. He seemed to understand how alone I really was and why I chose to live that way. And in that understanding, a healing began. I was vulnerable to the person whom I feared the most and instead of calling me crazy, he called me normal. And that is exactly what my heart needed to hear in order for the scar to begin to heal.

I wish I could say that I have completely traded in my Old Thomas, but I can’t. Letting go of this fear seems to be a process. The fear still grabs me. It still stops my heart and gives rise to panic. But the difference between now and then is that I don’t let the fear stop me. I don’t let it make my decisions. It’s there, but it’s not in charge. One thing that helps me set the fear aside is knowing that this fear is not of God. The only thing God wants us to fear is being separated from Him.

Since the day I looked the bear in the eye and survived, I have become involved. I am very much part of a faith community. I’ve set aside my broken world and I live in the world Jesus asks me to live in. I pray, sing, dance, cry, laugh, serve and worship with my brothers and sisters in Christ and I love every moment of it. They help me grow. They help me love. They lead me to His heart. And, yes, the Priest is right there in the mix. He’s right there telling me I’m not crazy. Now, my Old Thomas isn’t quite so worn anymore. Little by little, the Lord works his miraculous healing and my Thomas gets a little shinier and a little newer each day.

The Divine Dance

2011-02-24T19:47:00.000-08:00

Do you remember that first dance? You know, the first time you danced with someone really special. Maybe it was at your first boy-girl party in the 6th grade. Or perhaps, it was with your best friend at prom. It might have been in the parking lot at a make shift concert with that person who was always waiting for you after music history class. Or maybe, it was with your new husband or wife on your wedding day or with that new bundle of joy on his first day of life. Dancing with someone special is a glorious experience. When two people move together with music as their guide, they bond on a level above conversation. Dancing requires a couple to communicate beyond just words. And in the dance, the couple is brought to a new level of intimacy.

In Mass a couple weeks ago, Father spoke of the divine dance in his homily. He described his own relationship with God as a dance. When we give ourselves over to the dance, we follow God’s lead, anticipate His will, and rest in His arms. And the Lord takes delight in sharing this intimacy with us. As he described the divine dance, I reflected on my own dance with the Lord. I wish I can say that Our Lord and I share an unbroken, uninterrupted dance from the beginning, but I can’t. Instead, my story is more of an unrelenting and patient Lord who did not give up on me. Yes, our dancing history is loaded with His mercy, grace and love. I don’t deserve to be dancing with him, but He never stopped asking and waiting. And so we dance.

My dance with the Lord began when I was a kid. I was baptized at age 6 in a tiny Baptist Church outside of Chicago. I know I was changed on that day. Of all the forgotten days in my early childhood, that one is still clear as a bell. On that day, we began the dance. As I grew older, we grew closer. My Dad was in the Navy, so we moved many times throughout my childhood. Aside from my family, He was the one constant in my life. In every new city, I always found home in His house. Church was the glue that held me together.

Then at 17, the Lord asked me to join Him in a new dance. It took a while for me to follow His lead because it meant that I would have to leave the church of my childhood. He wanted me to dance with Him someplace else. Leaving the Baptist Church was not easy. In the end, there were a lot of hurt feelings that would leave lasting scars. Even though I left behind my family and closest friends, I kept dancing. Eventually, the Lord and I danced right into a Catholic Church. And it was there I learned just how intimate the dance could be. At 19, I was confirmed, and then we danced closer.

As my college years wore on, the stress of 3 jobs and 21 hours of course work each semester started taking a toll. I missed Mass more and more often. The Lord and I were dancing less and less. And then, 9 months before my wedding day, I discovered that my fiancé and I would be welcoming a new life into the world. At the beginning of our relationship, we committed ourselves to purity. But, we failed one time. And that is all it took. In my young mind, it wasn’t fair. All our friends were enjoying carefree casual sex and they weren’t in this situation. We failed once and paid the biggest consequence. I got angry and I hung up my dancing shoes. As time passed, I chalked up our divine dance as a thing of my childhood. Now that I was an adult, I didn’t need to dance. I could take care of myself.

Even though I wasn’t dancing, the Lord still took care of me. I still had the wedding I wanted but at an earlier date. My husband found a job right away and I was able to stay home for the first six months of our son’s life. Although things were hard, we always seemed to make it through. Even though I was refusing to dance, the Lord didn’t leave. He took care of me while He waited.

As the years wore on, I grew more and more miserable. I felt like I had no direction or purpose in life. I felt as if a better life was always off in a future that I could never see. I did not know what was missing but I knew I needed to figure it out. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life waiting to really live. In my quest, I decided to try going to church again. I wasn’t sure if God was the answer, but I was ready to try walking through those doors. In my first experiences back, I felt like a fish out of water. Dancing seemed impossible and I wasn’t sure if the Catholic Church was the place for me to dance again. I was ready to go find the familiar church of my childhood. But before I did, I wanted to give it one last shot, so I decided to go to a lecture sponsored by the Holy Spirit prayer group. I have no idea why I chose this experience to be the deciding factor on my future in the Catholic Church, but I did. And I went.

I don’t remember the name of the person who gave the lecture, but he was a dynamic, passionate speaker. And he seemed to be speaking directly to me. Throughout his talk, he spoke of the love and mercy of the Lord. And he helped me remember the experience I once had - the relationship I once had. Then, at the end of his lecture, he told a story. When he was a young man, he went to a dance. There was a girl at the dance that he really wanted to dance with. But she was too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. All night, he never got up the courage to ask her to dance and gave up hope that he ever would. As the evening came to a close, something happened that he never expected. She walked right up to him and asked him to dance. Of course, he said yes and they shared a wonderful dance he never expected to share. Then he said, “That is what Jesus is asking you tonight. It doesn’t matter how much you feel like you don’t deserve it. He still wants to dance. Will you take his hand and dance?” At that moment, I knew what was missing in my life. And I knew what I had to do. When I got home, I went to my room and got on my knees. I prayed, “Lord, I’m so sorry. I am ready to dance.” Then, there He was in my imagination. Jesus was sweeping me around the dance floor. He was so happy. I just kept looking up at Him and I would try to tell Him how sorry I was. And He would look at me and say, “It’s okay. I’m just so happy to dance with you.”

On that night, we resumed the dance we began in my childhood. But it hasn’t been easy. I know I stepped on His toes more than a few times. And He’s had to convince me on several occasions to keep dancing when new, unfamiliar songs started to play. In all our dancing, He never stops smiling down at me. I always find strength and comfort in the merciful love etched on His face. In the years since that night, we have danced in places I never dreamed we would dance. He has healed scars I thought I would carry forever. He has led me to experiences I never realized were possible. And in each new song, I dance a little closer to His heart. I experience a deeper revelation of His love. And I live the life He made me to live.

Icepocolypse

2011-02-03T22:40:00.000-08:00

We have been trapped in our home for three days now. And we are facing day four. “Super Ice” 2011 has put a halt to our lives. I’m feeling a little like the kids in Cat in the Hat: “So all we could do was sit, sit, sit, sit. And we did not like it. Not one little bit.” The Seuss fan in me is hoping the cat with the fine hat will pop through my door and use that machine of his to clean up the mess my little Thing 1 and Thing 2 have made over these past three days in their effort to deal with this cold weather madness. But, alas, he is not here. Nope, the only people here are my family. And if I’m trapped with them any longer, I fear the fish will start talking to me soon.

Seriously, this experience has been a little eye-opening. It is amazing how quickly an entire city can become and remain paralyzed by a natural event. It’s as if God is saying, “it’s time to slow down and figure out what matters.” No matter how much we build up, God can always tear it down. No matter how fast we run, he will always beat us there. This week has been a forced slow down. It’s been a time to look around and realize what really matters and to look in the mirror and see who we really are. Sometimes slowing down isn’t easy or comfortable- especially if it’s not our idea. But it is necessary so that we can get some perspective on where we are and where we are going.

One of the things that I was supposed to do this week was lead a middle school youth night. The topic was “The Beginning and the End” and was based on the Book of Revelation. It’s kind of ironic that we were supposed to explain this apocalyptic book on a day when “Dallas stood still.” It’s also ironic that we are trapped in our homes much like John was trapped on Patmos when he had the vision. Maybe God has to get us cornered to get our attention, although that probably wasn’t the case for John. Anyhow, the thing that really stuck out to me as I prepared for the lesson was the beauty described in Heaven- the court, the angels, the saints, and all the worship. And as we look more closely at that beauty, we see the Mass. We see the Mass celebrated right there in heaven. The Revelation to John isn’t so much about the end of the world, but rather it’s where Jesus shows us how to worship. He gives us the blueprint to worship as Heaven worships. As a good friend of mine puts it- Mass is where Heaven kisses earth.

When I first started going to Mass, I was uncomfortable because it was so different than the worship services at my Baptist church. I was used to going to church to get something from it. I was used to a prayer at the beginning, listening to some music, singing some hymns, and listening to a whole lot of preaching. In fact, there was at least an hour of preaching. When I went to Mass for the first time, I was shocked at how short the Priest’s sermon was. I was also surprised by the amount of time dedicated to prayer. And how all the music was sung in a prayerful manner rather than for entertainment. It all seemed a little boring at first but then it started to capture my curiosity. And then one day I was sold. It was the day I realized where the focus of a Catholic Mass was. It was on God- Father, Son and Holy Spirit. They were the stars of the show. They were the reason people came to church. People weren’t inspired to come because of the passionate preaching or talented musicians. They came because Jesus was there. They came to worship. The Mass isn’t a show put on by people for people to facilitate worship. The Mass is worship given to us by Jesus himself. It’s where Heaven comes down to earth so that we may join in the divine worship of our awesome God.

But that was 13 years ago. And I think that when you participate in the Mass week after week and year after year, it’s easy to get caught up into the routine. It’s easy to go through the motions and miss the big picture, especially when there are so many distractions swirling around in your head and in the seat next to you. I think that at this point in my life, I have to make an effort to fully participate in the worship. Just like my marriage needs to be refreshed and renewed, so does my attitude towards worship. I find that the more I learn about the Mass, the more exciting the ritual is. And I need to maintain and strengthen that excitement if I hope to pass it along to my children.

So, as we are forced to slow down this week, let us too slow down for Mass. Let us get some perspective on what is actually happening. Let us take it all in while we surrender all of ourselves. Let us mean what we say as we recite the ancient prayers. Let us sing to God rather than singing with the congregation. Let us lift our hearts to the Lord rather than just lifting our hands. Let us hear our Lord’s voice when the Priest recites Jesus’ words at the moment of consecration. And especially, let us be still enough to feel His life in our hearts and souls when we receive Him in the Eucharist. When we surrender ourselves to this kind of worship, we experience the celebration in Heaven right here on earth. And I don’t think our perspective can be any more beautiful than that.

It is my hope and prayer that I will experience this little bit of heaven in Mass this week- as long as my driveway is thawed out by Sunday. Until then, I’ll hold out hope for the Cat and his machine while I try to tune out the fish and entertain the cooped up children. And hopefully, I’ll find my sanity amongst all the melting ice.

The Road of Life

2011-01-10T17:05:00.000-08:00

“It should be right down this street,” I said to my anxious husband. We were now 10 minutes into our “let’s find a Chick-fil-a” adventure. He let out a heavy sigh to further punctuate his disapproval of our veer off the usual route. When I first announced that the iPhone found a Chick-fil-a about 8 miles north of the interstate, he was reluctant to agree to the idea. While I enjoy getting off the beaten path, he sees these adventures as time-consuming, gas-wasting annoyances that will curtail his chances of beating his previous record drive time from Dallas to New Orleans. I suspect that our differing opinions on the matter have much to do with the fact that he’s from Mars and I’m from Venus. But nevertheless, here was my Martian driving this hungry Venetian to a somewhat healthy fast food experience.

“Where is it?” the annoyed Martian asked as the packed city street started to give way to sparsely populated businesses and homes. We were now approaching 15 minutes of what he considered lost precious time.

“I don’t know! The iPhone says we passed it but I didn’t see a restaurant. We should turn around.” On our second trip down the same street, it became apparent that the Chick-fil-a was just a figment of the iPhone’s imagination. The tension in the air was palpable as we went through the What-A-Burger drive through and then raced back to I-20. Although the Martian knew it wasn’t entirely my fault, our failed adventure further fueled his hesitancy to entertain my wild and crazy ideas that lead us away from the well-traveled interstate.

It was on our way back home from New Orleans that I realized how much I am like him. As I watched the bayou slowly give way to the sugar cane fields, I reflected on just how much of this great country I have seen. My eyes have taken in the beauty of the rolling wheat fields and my ears the music of the roaring ocean. I’ve walked the streets laid by our founding fathers and rested in the fields where cowboys lived their storied lives. I touched the names of the soldiers who gave their lives in Vietnam and prayed at the hallowed scar in the earth where the twin towers once stood. I’ve seen the Lady who proudly holds high her torch - whose sight welcomed my great-grandfather to this land all those years ago. And although my feet have danced on the same Virginia shores on which my English ancestors arrived 13 generations ago, I realized in the moment when my eyes gazed at the passing rice fields that a lot of what I’ve seen has been from the comfort of my car while traveling down the interstate. Yes, I am like the Martian I married. I like the planned and predictable adventure one finds on the well-traveled road.

But is that really the life I want to live? When I’m old and gray and ready to leave this world, what stories will I have to tell? What adventures will have marked my life? To my great dismay, I am approaching my mid-thirties. I know that it doesn’t sound that bad, but when I look back, I am startled by the speed at which my twenties raced by. It all seems like it was over in a blink of an eye. I don’t want to arrive at the end of my thirties and realize that I have squandered yet another decade of precious life by living inside my comfort zone and avoiding the risks adventures require. I think, as Christians, we are called to live a different life which naturally lends itself to adventure. But I fear I am missing out on that life. Although I work hard at living the Christian life, I tend to live it on my terms - in my comfort zone. I know God will always allow me to experience Him on my terms, what am I missing by staying in my comfort zone? How much more exciting will the adventure be on His terms?

Jesus surrendered Himself body and soul to us and for us. And he continues to do so at every Mass into the hands of the priest at the altar. At the altar, He invites us to return that love; to offer Him that same surrender of our lives; to enter into that perfect life-giving agape love the Holy Trinity shares. And when we do so and receive His body and soul into our hearts, He lives in us and through us. And He desires to take our surrendered souls on an adventure of a lifetime. He desires to share heaven with us here on earth. But we have to let go of our comfort zone. We have to truly surrender and agree to get off the interstate. We may even have to get out of the car. And although we may not find a Chick-fil-a, we will find an adventure like no other. We will experience God like we have never imagined. And like my wise Martian says, we should “sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. Unlike the iPhone, the man driving the car knows where he’s going.”

Sunsets

2010-12-21T06:31:00.000-08:00

I’ve fallen in love with sunsets all over again. I have always been drawn to them, but lately, they have been extra special. As a kid, even though I moved around a lot, I always seemed to live in a place where it was hard to really see a sunset because trees or buildings hid the horizon. So when we went to visit my family in Oklahoma where the land is flat and the trees are few, I always looked forward to watching that moment when the light surrendered to the darkness. When day and night come together, they create a beautiful scene for the eyes to behold. God’s artistry in the sunset is far greater than what any artist can capture on paper, film or otherwise. It was a glorious experience to see such vivid beauty unfold right before my eyes.

When we moved to north Texas, I was excited to be reunited with the beautiful sunsets of my childhood. I enjoyed watching them with my husband and children. I loved being in the middle of something greater than myself. But, it was only recently that I came to appreciate their divine beauty in a whole new way. A few weeks ago, I read an article where the author spoke of the beauty in God’s creation (When God Shouts at You by Jason Kotecki). And how God uses His beautiful creation to touch us – to whisper “I love you” in our ears. That statement stuck with me in the week that followed. And then it came true. At the end of a very busy Sunday, I was leaving a home of a family who was preparing to invite Jesus into their home and hearts. After we finished praying together, I got into my car and turned down the street to leave their neighborhood. As I started driving up the hill, I almost had to stop the car. The sunset the Lord painted in the sky was the most breathtaking I had ever seen. God’s “I love you” rang in my ears as I gazed at the brilliant and pretty colors all dancing in harmony with the wispy and perfectly made clouds. As my eyes took in the moment, I could feel His arms around me and hear His voice in my ear. Yes, sunsets would never be the same again – they are now special “I love you” moments I share with my Lord.

I have shared several more sunsets with the Lord since that day. And through them, the Lord has shown me glorious sights, whispered sweet words in my ears and filled my soul with divine love. But today, the sunset was a little different. Once again, I found myself in my car and driving west at that perfect time of day. I was anticipating the beautiful display that would unfold right before my eyes. But, it never seemed to come. Today’s sunset just didn’t appear to be that glorious. The little devil on my shoulder said, “Ha! See! He doesn’t always give you that sunset. He doesn’t always show you His love. You just aren’t always that important to Him.” I didn’t want to believe him. But I was tempted to. You see, there was something that I really wanted to work out. There was something I really wanted to happen. And then the circumstances aligned so it seemed as if it would happen. And so I prayed. At first, I prayed for God’s will. But in the end, I shamelessly begged God for my will to be His will. To make a long story short, it didn’t work out. God said “no”. And I was disappointed. It is hard to hear that word – no. When we hear that word, our minds want to know why. And God doesn’t always make the why obvious. He doesn’t explain the ins and outs of His will to us. He doesn’t tell us what lies ahead on the road; He just gives us what we need to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Then He asks us to trust Him and hold His hand as we walk along on the dark and ill-traveled road together.

One scripture that comes to me frequently is Matthew 6:25-34, where Jesus tells us not to worry. He explains that God takes care of the birds and the flowers so why wouldn’t He take care of us? He loves us more than the birds or the grass in the field, so surely He will make sure we have what we need. Jesus tells us that, rather than worry, we should seek out the kingdom of God. In other words, don’t let worry steal your precious moments with God. Instead of worry, we should worship.

I’m also reminded of Job’s story. God allowed horrible things to happen to His beloved Job. God knew that Job’s love for Him was greater than any of the blessings Job experienced in his life. So, God let the devil take all those blessings away one by one. And Job, although distraught, never wavered in his love. Job never stopped worshipping. He continually turned to God when the world told him he had every reason to turn away. Job did not let worry steal his love or his precious moments with the Lord.

As I continued to drive my car towards the setting sun, I pondered all these lessons. I thought about my specific situation. Although I don’t know how things are going to work out, I do know I shouldn’t worry about it. My future is in God’s hands. I know His plan for me is much greater than I can imagine. My purpose is to seek out the kingdom of heaven- not to worry about tomorrow. And as I came to these conclusions, it happened. The so-so sunset began to give way to a beautiful and splendid sight. As the vivid colors began to dance across the horizon, those three little words rang in my ears once again. And in that moment, hope filled my heart as I realized just how perfect God’s timing really is.

Celebrate that Night

2010-12-14T19:59:00.000-08:00

T’was the night before Christmas and all through the land,
Every creature was anticipating the celebration at hand.

The stockings are hung and the Christmas tree is trimmed,
And we all take a moment to slow down and find meaning within.

With all the hustle and bustle we often lose sight
Of the glory, majesty and wonder in this beautiful night.

With humility and love, He took on man’s form;
And all nature rejoiced when God was born.

He walked on this earth and talked of God’s love;
He spoke of God’s mercy and preformed signs from above.

Then the time came when He used more than words and signs;
The time came for Him to show God’s love to mankind.

He was sold by a friend for 30 pieces of silver,
And then beaten beyond all reasonable measure.

He was mocked, ridiculed, belittled and scorned,
And then they pressed on His head a crown of thorns.

His broken body struggled with the cross to Calvary,
Where they nailed Him to it and hoisted Him up for the whole world to see.

He hung on that tree in unimaginable pain,
And, when the time came, He gave up His spirit- the lamb was slain.

The world shook and the veil in the temple tore,
For the covenant God made with Abraham was no more.

A new sacrifice was made; an unblemished lamb;
God’s blood had been poured out in a new covenant with man.

After three days, He walked on this earth again,
And showed us that perfect love conquers sin.

He showed us from the depths of His heart and soul
What true love is and how to be whole.

The love that burns inside His Sacred Heart for man
Is greater than our minds can ever imagine.

So, we pause from the hustle and bustle we’ve created for this season,
And remember who we celebrate and His magnificent reason.

We dance in the love and joy He brought to this earth,
And rejoice in the glorious miracle of His birth.

By His stripes we are healed, by His death we are free;
All He asks from us is to love Him back for eternity.

So on this beautiful night, give Him the best present of all;
Give Him your heart and answer His call.

33 Blessings

2010-11-25T06:13:00.001-08:00

I’ve been blessed with 33 years of life, love and happiness. Here are 33 things I am thankful for on each and every one of those days(in no particular order):

1. The soldiers who stand on a wall and protect the freedom that I take for granted.

2. The man who has held my hand, dried my tears and shared my laughter as we have journeyed on this great adventure we call life.

3. Chocolate.

4. The faith of 12 men who lived 2000 years ago and all the Christians who have taken up their cross ever since.

5. Clean water.

6. The two people who brought me into this world and taught me what love really is.

7. All the children in my life.

8. The girl who said yes to an angel and the Holy Spirit.

9. The doctors and nurses at Christus Santa Rosa in San Antonio who brought a 32-week old baby safely into this world.

10. The people who raised my soul mate into a man.

11. Peppermint mocha coffee creamer.

12. The God who died for me.

13. A full pantry.

14. Music.

15. The girl that shared my room, my clothes, my CDs and all knows all my stories.

16. The sweet smell of country air.

17. A car that works.

18. The ten-year-old boy who inspires me to be a better person.

19. Priests.

20. The way rain makes everything new.

21. The perfect pair of jeans.

22. Every new breath I breathe in and then let go.

23. My CRHP sisters.

24. Beautiful sunsets.

25. My 3 year old little king who despite coming to this world 8 weeks early is perfectly healthy.

26. Friends, old and new who teach me that family is more than flesh and blood.

27. The roof over my head.

28. Peanut butter M&Ms

29. My best friend who has become my sister who knows what I’m thinking before I say it and encourages me to be who I really am.

30. Appliances that work.

31. The Eucharist.

32. All the people who make my children happy.

33. Family- immediate and extended. They are living proof that God’s love does reign on this Earth.

A Conversation

2010-11-22T14:39:00.000-08:00

Lord, I don’t like this place. I don’t like where I am. The worry of tomorrow is stealing the joy of today. How do I cope with this uncertainty? Will tomorrow destroy me?

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat[or drink], or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?” (Matthew 6:25)

Lord, I will give myself over to your will. I will do what you ask. If I only knew what you were asking. Waiting is so hard. What am I waiting for? Where are you taking me? Will I know when you show me? Will I be able to see your will?

For I know well the plan 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. (Jeremiah 29:11-14)

Lord, I am praying. Find me Lord. Find me in this place. This journey is not easy. The road less traveled is scary. Send your peace to my heart. If I know you are here, then I can bear this storm. Because I know, Lord that you are “my shepherd; there is nothing I lack. In green pastures you let me graze; to safe waters you lead me; you restore my strength. You guide me along the right path for the sake of your name. Even when I walk through a dark valley, I fear no harm for you are at my side; your rod and staff give me courage.” (Psalm 23:1-4)

"Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

Lord, I here I am. Teach me to be meek and humble of heart. I trust you. I know I shouldn’t worry about tomorrow because you have told me “do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself.”(Matthew 6:34) But what shall I do while I wait? What is my purpose here?

Shout joyfully to the Lord, all you lands; worship the Lord with cries of gladness; come before him with joyful song. Know that the Lord is God, our maker to whom we belong, whose people we are, God’s well-tended flock. Enter the temple gates with praise, its courts with thanksgiving. Give thanks to God, bless his name; good indeed is the Lord, whose love endures forever, whose faithfulness lasts through every age. (Psalm 100)

I have been having this conversation with God for a couple weeks now. We are facing some uncertainty that will require us to make some big decisions in the near future. But it’s not the big changes that are making me uncomfortable. It’s not knowing what those changes will be. I’m in a place of waiting and waiting is hard. I don’t even like to wait in line at the grocery. So waiting for God to show us the right path to take that will forever change our future is almost unbearable. But, in this conversation, God revealed to me something important. We are not made to worry. He will take care of us. He loves us more than we can understand. All the trials and triumphs in our path are there to mold us into the people he calls us to be. I shouldn’t worry while I wait. I should do the one thing that he created us to do. Worship.

The New Tree of Life

2010-11-09T20:06:00.000-08:00

I had an “ah-ha!” moment yesterday. Now, I have to admit that my “ah-ha!” discoveries aren’t as shocking to my cradle catholic brothers and sisters. But they are exciting for me because I have one more piece of the puzzle; one more chapter to the story; one more taco on the combination plate. And since my deck of cards is a little more complete, I celebrate.

Earlier this week, I read Genesis Chapter 3 and saw a verse that I had completely forgotten about:

Then the Lord God said: “See! The man has become like one of us, knowing what is good and what is bad! Therefore, he must not be allowed to put out his hand to take the fruit from the tree of life also, and thus eat of it and live forever.” (Genesis 3:22)

So, to recap, God kicked Man out of the garden to keep him from eating from the tree of life. Once Man chose to disobey God and eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree of life is no longer an option. Man could not eat from both trees. So God had no choice but to kick Man out of the garden since Man cut himself off from the tree of life.

Okay, so now read what Jesus says according to the Gospel of John (6: 35, 53-58). He is talking to the crowd who is asking him for a sign. They point out to Him that Moses provided a sign in manna from Heaven. Jesus first tells them that God, not Moses, provided the manna, and that those who ate the manna still died. Then he said:

"I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst……unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever."

I think the parallel here is so painfully obvious that it does not warrant an explanation. How awesome it is that Jesus is offering us the food that Adam threw away? Jesus has become the new tree of life. And we are all invited to partake of this life giving fruit which he offers through his own flesh and blood in the Eucharist. Wow. How can we refuse that gift?

When I was growing up in the Baptist church, we were taught that what Jesus said during the last supper was not to be taken literally. We learned that the bread represented his body and the wine represented his blood. It never occurred to me to question that teaching because, let’s face it, the bread and wine actually changing into Jesus is a little far-fetched for our finite and human minds to grasp. When I went to a Catholic church for the first time, I learned that they actually believe that the bread was Jesus’ body and the wine was His blood- it wasn’t a representation. I was taken aback by that. How could they believe in such a preposterous idea? I even had to go a few times to be convinced that this is what they actually believe. I thought that I could never believe that myself and stopped going for a little while. But then my curiosity drew me back. I got to thinking that this is what the people of the Catholic Church have believed for 2000 years. That’s a long time. And then I started to think about what great faith the Catholic people must have in order to believe in such a crazy thing. I didn’t think I had what they had. I didn’t have the faith to believe in what they believed in. But I wanted to be around them. I wanted to worship with them. So I kept going to Mass.

And then one day, Mass was different. I had just picked up a book about Eucharistic Miracles(Eucharistic Miracles by Joan Carroll Cruz). My boyfriend and I were in a Catholic book store and I happened to see it on the shelf. Given my new found fascination I had with Catholics and the Eucharist, I couldn’t help but want to read that book. Were there really miracles related to this idea of the Eucharist? I had to know what it said. I wasn’t ready to believe what was in the book, but I had to know what was in the book. The very first chapter was about the miracle at Lanciano, Italy. In this miracle, a priest was questioning the actual presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. This got my attention, because that was exactly what I was doing. Then, at a mass he was presiding over, the host became an actual piece of flesh and the wine became real blood. When I first read that, I was like, yeah right. But, I kept reading and learned this miracle is preserved and on display to this very day. AND they did some tests on the “flesh” and “blood” and determined that it was real human flesh and blood. And that the flesh was muscle from the human heart. That last part is what got me. The flesh was from the human heart. If it really was Jesus, then He was giving us a piece of His heart.

The Mass I attended after reading about this miracle was different. I felt very connected to everyone around me. It was if I knew their secret. As the mass progressed, I became more and more focused on what was happening on the altar. And when the Priest held up the host and said “This is my body, to be given up for you”, something clicked. I didn’t hear “This is my body.” Instead, I heard “This is my heart.” If I hadn’t already been on my knees, I would have fell to them. At that moment, my spirit explained to my intellect what was happening. You see, all my life in the Baptist Church, I was taught that I should give my heart to Jesus. In fact, that is what you do when you pray the special prayer to be saved – you invite Jesus to live in your heart. So, I grew up inviting Jesus to live in my heart. I invited Him to be a part of me. I wanted Him to live in me, and I liked to think that my heart was His. And then, there He was, up on that altar, offering me His heart. It was as if everything had come full circle and a whole new world was revealed to me. The Lord was showing me a part of himself I had never seen. My hunger for the Eucharist began that day. On the way home from that Mass, I remember telling my boyfriend (who later became my husband) that I wanted to be Catholic. He gave me a knowing look and then signed me up for RCIA. And here I am.

Receiving the Eucharist is the highlight of my Christian experience. There is a reason why the Bible describes the Church as the Bride of Christ. The relationship we have with Christ is very intimate through the Eucharist. When we receive Him in the Eucharist, He physically becomes part of us. He nourishes us spiritually AND physically. I think that this is a hard concept for us to understand because of what happened in the garden. When Man chose to eat from the tree of knowledge, he separated himself, body and soul from God which destined Man to die. This is what Adam passed along to us in original sin. Out of His love for us, God himself came down to earth and died an innocent physical death, and then conquered death through the resurrection. By this act, He creates a way for us to gain eternal life with him. Through baptism and our faith, we become part of the Bride of Christ and are brought into His family. And He tells us that our souls will be saved and our bodies will eventually be raised up, made new and reunited with our souls on the last day. In all of this, we see that there is a connection between the physical and spiritual; a connection that died in the garden but then is reestablished through Christ. This connection is nourished in us by Christ through His presence in the Eucharist. Jesus becomes the new tree of life in the Eucharist. How can we not fall to our knees and accept His gift?

Removing the Blindfold

2010-10-15T15:37:00.000-07:00

I have to admit that I have a hard time believing in miracles. It’s a strange thing because I believe in the miracles chronicled in the bible. But I have a hard time believing the miracles that happen around me. The gospel reading this Sunday really spoke to me. Jesus healed 10 leapers, but only one came back to give thanks to God. What happened to the other 9? Did they believe in their miraculous healing? Did they see what happened to them with their hearts? Would I be the leaper who came back to thank and praise God, or would I be completely oblivious to what happened? Or worse yet, would I be ungrateful for the miracle?

I am a product of today’s modern society. As a society, we have made tremendous gains in technology, science and industry. And as a result, we tend to be blinded by our own knowledge. We are distracted by our own achievements. In some cases, we have explained away God or the need for God. The pride we gained through our accomplishments has made us blind to the spiritual forces around us. We are quick to explain away those little miracles with science or chance. We are reluctant to give God the credit. Our society has become very secular. And I am right in the middle of it. How do I take off the blindfold? How do I regain that innocent child-like faith that so easily recognizes influences of God in everything around her? How do I live in the world but not be of the world?

I think the first step is to acknowledge that the blindfold exists. You can’t change what you don’t acknowledge. So, since I know the blindfold is there, I can seek to remove it. But I find the process of removal is not easy. I have been convicted lately by pride. In fact, I would not be remiss to assume the majority of the threads that make up the fabric of my blindfold are strong and stubborn pride. In my latest trip to the confessional where I once again poured out my sin of pride, Father gave me the Litany of Humility as my penance. After praying this prayer, I realized that pride can disguise its self in many ways. Not only are the desires of praise, extolment, and honor rooted in pride, but also are the fears of humiliation, ridicule, and suspicion. If we could rid ourselves of pride, then we would not fear being wrong or being suspected or being forgotten. We would not seek honor, praise or recognition. Imagine how free we would be. If I could remove the pride from my eyes, I wonder what miracles I would see?

So how do I take off the pride? How do I see with those child-like eyes again? Jesus shows us what it is like to live without pride. He never worked to gain anything for himself. He never feared what people would think of Him. He never sought the approval of anyone but His Father. He sacrificed His perfect, pride-less lifeblood to gain our lives. He laid all of Himself on the altar at Calvary in complete surrender to the will of the Father. And in that surrender, God conquered hell for us. He found a way to bring us home to His presence. Jesus shows us the awesome beauty in surrender.

So, I think that the key to conquering pride is found in surrender. When we truly lay everything down on the altar and seek the Father’s will, we become free. We don’t spend energy seeking glory, praise and approval. We are not afraid of being wronged, despised or forgotten. We put others before ourselves so that they may become holier- even more holy than you or I. Isn’t that what Jesus asks us to be? To be an arrow pointing to Him? To be His mirror so that when we gaze at Him, others see His reflection in us? St. Augustine says:

You who do not see God will, by loving your neighbor, make yourself worthy of seeing him. By loving your neighbor, you cleanse your eyes so you can see God.

When we completely surrender ourselves to Him at the foot of the cross, He reaches down and removes our blindfold. He pays the price so that He can remove it and He frees us from ourselves- our pride. But first, we must surrender-wholly and completely surrender. And then He takes our surrendered beings molds us into the creatures we were meant to be; creatures who love Him and each other as He loves us. And with that love, we see the world through His eyes. We see Him along with His miracles in every person He places in our path. And then we can’t help but to serve and love our neighbor because, in doing so, we serve and love Christ himself.

I fear that this kind of surrender is going to take me a lifetime. There are some days when I surrender a little more of myself and the blindfold falls away for a moment. And there are other days when I am clearly trying to navigate my own way through life completely blinded by the world. When the blindfold falls away, I do see things differently. The beauty of the world is so vivid. The exhaustive love in my heart overflows into the deepest corners of my being so that I can’t help but share it with others. I am easily overwhelmed by all the needs in the people around me. And that leaves me happy to rejoice in my own suffering in order to provide some relief for theirs. But when I am blinded, creation’s beauty isn’t as spectacular as the world’s distractions. The instinct to succeed and win approval takes over. The fears of ridicule and failure guide my thoughts and decisions. Suddenly, my neighbor’s problems are not nearly as big as my own. And before I know it, I am surrounded by the cold grayness the world and my blindfold have to offer.

It is my prayer that the Lord will keep calling me to the foot of the cross. That He will continue to bring me to my knees in surrender. And with every piece of myself I place in His hands, He molds me into the person He created me to be. I pray that one day my blindfold will fall off forever- that I will have surrendered everything to my Lord just as He surrendered everything to me. How beautiful it will be to see the world be through His eyes. How lovely it will be to see Him in everyone around me. How privileged I will be to love and serve all the neighbors the Lord places in my path with a happy heart. And then, how magnificent it will be to witness His miracles and then give Him all the praise, glory and honor forever and ever.

Litany of Humility

Rafael Cardinal Merry del Val (1865-1930),
Secretary of State for Pope Saint Pius X

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved...
From the desire of being extolled ...
From the desire of being honored ...
From the desire of being praised ...
From the desire of being preferred to others...
From the desire of being consulted ...
From the desire of being approved ...

From the fear of being humiliated ...
From the fear of being despised...
From the fear of suffering rebukes ...
From the fear of being calumniated ...
From the fear of being forgotten ...
From the fear of being ridiculed ...
From the fear of being wronged ...
From the fear of being suspected ...

That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I ...
That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease ...
That others may be chosen and I set aside ...
That others may be praised and I unnoticed ...
That others may be preferred to me in everything...
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should…

Mary, Queen of Heaven

2010-09-27T06:19:00.000-07:00

Up until 13 years ago, Mary was just a woman to me. She was just the woman God chose to bring His son into this world. The only thing special about her was her yes. But she was just a woman- like you and me. That was what I was taught. Mary was not that special. I’m not sure why my Baptist Church downplayed her and her role in salvation history. The more I learn about Mary, the more confused I am by their stance.

But even 13 years ago when I was becoming Catholic, I still didn’t “get” Mary. I accepted that her role was greater than I first believed, but I didn’t really understand why she was all that special. Over the years, I have collected tidbits here and there of her greatness. And recently, I have been mulling it all over. A while back, I learned that in Jewish tradition, the Queen of a Jewish kingdom is not the King’s wife. It is his Mother. This really made sense as to why Catholics call her the Queen of Heaven. She is the King’s Mother. Another thing pointed out to me was the fact that God made His own Mother. He made the woman who would bring Him into this world. He created the womb that He would humble Himself into and become a flesh and blood human to be delivered into the hands of mankind. Why wouldn’t he make her special? She had to be worthy enough to receive God’s very life in her body. She had to be worthy to raise Jesus into a Man. She had to be worthy to watch Him reveal himself to the world and then die at the hands of those she was raised to respect. Yes, God made her especially for Him.

The first thing that blows my mind about her is that she was willing to say yes. Now, let me tell you that if an Angel appeared in my living room and asked me to be the mother of Christ, then I would probably pop a few more Xanax and make an appointment to have my head examined. Mary, after hearing about how she would conceive as a virgin(which is mind-boggling in itself), said “I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38) There was not a doubt in her mind as to the validity of what was happening. She completely believed and trusted God. I am the Handmaid of the Lord- those are the words that get me. Not only did she say yes, but she totally and completely gave herself over to God. His will became her life. And she didn’t say to the Angel let me think about it. She didn’t ask him to come back in a week. She didn’t feel the need to rush out and get advice on the situation. She just said yes and completely gave herself over to God. Then she trusted and never looked back. Yes, God made her especially for Him.

Another thing that awes me about her is her joy. Here she is pregnant, unmarried and living in a society that stones women for adultery. And she is joyful. She doesn’t worry about what the world thinks. She is totally focused on God and His child within her and her joy knows no bounds. Catholics call Luke 1:46-56 The Magnificat. That prayer has so much more meaning now that I understand where that joy comes from. The depths of that joy are incredible. The roots of her joy are so intimately intertwined with God that it’s hard to see where God ends and her joy begins. She celebrates a closeness that we only dream of. Yes, God did make her especially for Him.

I think that if we were to identify just one superhero power in Mary, it would be her strength. Her strength is incredible. Not only did she bring the Son of God into the world, but she let Him go. She joyfully let him live out the Father’s will which included His torture and death. She watched the elders of her society ridicule her Son for teaching about the love of God- a love she intimately experienced. She was there when they beat him beyond recognition and then sentenced him to die. I can’t even imagine what she went through. And not only did she witness His Passion, but she was there, by His side the whole time. She was His earthly support. Her strength is supernatural. Yes indeed, God made her especially for Him.

And then God did something incredible. He took this great work of art that was His mother and He gave her to us:

When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his home. (John 19:26-27)

And that is yet another lesson to us about Agape love. Jesus lived His whole life doing the Father’s will. He did nothing for Himself. Everything He did was to glorify the Father. And then He invited us into this Agape love when He stretched out His hands between heaven and earth and gave up His life for our sins. And in the moment before He gave us His innocent life, He gave US the woman He created and loved as a son loves a mother. Not only did he give us His life, but He gave us His mother- the woman whom He created for a perfect relationship with Him. How awesome is that?

So, I finally get Mary. But I didn’t have the same prayer experience with her as some of my other Catholic brothers and sisters. I didn’t really get the rosary or the other Marian prayers. I knew she was there and present, but I didn’t experience her like I do Jesus or the Holy Spirit. So, I decided to really seek her out. I prayed the rosary more often. I prayed the other Marian prayers. And I called upon her in those moments that needed a woman’s touch. Still, I didn’t feel anything special from her. So, I got a little frustrated. And, in that moment of frustration, I looked up and saw the picture of Jesus’ Sacred Heart above our fireplace and that is when I realized what was happening. Mary is a window. Since she is an incredible work of art created especially for God, she possesses the humility necessary to have that perfect relationship with God. When you pray to Mary, she prays for you and leads you to her Son. That is her purpose- to bring her children to Jesus. And when I looked back at my effort to know Mary better, I actually drew closer to her Son. She allowed me to see Him through her eyes. She focused me right on the source of all her love and joy. She is a beautiful window to Christ. Yes, the Lord created her especially for Him. And then the Lord turned around and gave her especially to us. How awesome is that?

A Blast from the Past

2010-08-30T05:49:00.000-07:00

So, I got a call from a boy that I dated 20 years ago. I don’t know if you can really say that I dated him. We were in the sixth grade and I wasn’t allowed to go on dates at such a young age. He was the boy that sent me the note asking me to “go out with him” that included the big square for “yes” and the little square for “no”. What girl doesn’t dream of getting that note passed to her during math? So, he was my first boyfriend. But shhhhh…. I didn’t tell my Daddy about him because I wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend. This forbidden relationship was quite exciting for me and my envious girlfriends!

Anyhow, we “went out” during 6th grade and part of the summer after. I moved just after starting 7th grade. I am a Navy brat and my Daddy started a new tour in Washington D.C. that school year. I remembered that we broke up during that summer but I didn’t remember why. In fact, I find that I have a hard time remembering a lot of the details of my childhood. Since I moved so much, I was always adjusting. I was always saying good bye and then having to make new friends all over again. I didn’t hang onto people because they were always leaving my life. Because of that, I don’t have the luxury of old friends to talk about the past with so the memories stay alive. Also, there wasn’t a lot of closure in my childhood relationships. If I had a fight with a friend right before I moved, then that was that. There wasn’t opportunity to possibly work things out and have that closure. My closure was that I didn’t have to see that person again, which wasn’t always the healthiest way to go about living life and learning about relationships. And that brings me back to my 6th grade boyfriend.

He found me on Facebook. When I saw his friend request, my first thought was “why does he want to friend me?” That should have been my first subconscious clue into the past. Flattered, I accepted his friend request. Then we started e-mailing back and forth with all the usual “how are you” and “what have you been up to all these years” and it almost seemed as if 20 years had never passed. Then he brought up that infamous summer of ‘89. Even though my memory was failing me, I didn’t have a good feeling about it. When I admitted to him that I didn’t know what he was talking about, he called me…on the phone. Now, before I go any further, let me say that Mike is a really nice man. He and his wife are raising beautiful children in the Catholic faith. He serves in our Armed Forces and dreams of being a math and science teacher when he leaves the service. He is a really great person. So, imagine how embarrassed I was when he very politely told me about the nasty note he received in the mail during the summer of ‘89.

Way back in the olden days, we didn’t have computers or cell phones. At my house, we didn’t even have a cordless phone, which meant that any conversation you had on the phone was overheard by all who wished to be in the kitchen. This probably made it difficult to maintain a forbidden relationship during the summer. Anyhow, I must have decided to send him notes in the mail as a way to communicate. The problem was that he didn’t write me back. He also never tried to risk his own safety by calling me on the phone. Now, you also need to know that I had a team of advisors to coach me through this relationship. Me and my equally-psychotic girlfriends must have been taking notes from the unwritten book of How Boys are Supposed to Behave When They Are Your Boyfriend. And since we didn’t have any attempts at communication from him over the summer, we decided he must be dumped. So I fired off a nasty letter giving him the boot. I am sure this letter was met with great enthusiastic approval from my team of advisors before hitting the post office. After I mailed that letter, Mike and I never really talked again. I saw him at school that fall and I remember being embarrassed. Even though I had gotten approval and admiration from my girlfriends, I knew I probably hurt his feelings. And, like I said earlier, I moved shortly after school started that fall, so moving away from the situation was my closure. I never needed to see Mike again - until he found me on Facebook and called me on my iPhone. How ironic.

Embarrassed is just not a big enough word. Here was a very nice man telling me about my psychotic behavior all those years ago. I must conclude that if he remembers what I did to him 20 years ago, then he must have been impacted by it. I must have hurt his feelings. I apologized many times. After we got off the phone, I started to wonder why he brought this up. The whole situation put me in a very reflective mood. And what do I do when I am reflective? I clean, or organize, or find some project that needs attention. This time I assaulted the garden.

The morning after his call, I found myself elbow deep in dirt, weeds, and dead flowers, all while pondering what I did to this boy all those years ago and wondering why he chose to contact me. I certainly would not want to find me if I were him. He was clearly a braver person than I could ever be. As I was pulling the weeds, I realized that even though I didn’t understand why he called me, he gave this Navy brat a rare opportunity. He gave me a chance to ask for forgiveness. He gave me a chance to pull those weeds I planted 20 years ago and find a little closure. He gave me the gift of mercy.

I have to say that Catholics talk a whole lot more about mercy than my Baptist church ever did. In my Baptist church, you asked for forgiveness when you prayed the prayer to ask Jesus into your heart. Beyond that, we didn’t talk much about asking God to forgive our sins. All of our sins were forgiven in that one prayer. Catholics don’t see it that way. We are encouraged to always examine our conscience. We are encouraged to acknowledge our sins and then take advantage of the sacrament of reconciliation where we ask for forgiveness of those sins. It is a necessary ongoing process that brings us closer to the Lord, each other and heaven.

As an adult convert, the whole idea of confession to a priest was a hard sell for me. I now understand that our lips have to speak our shortcomings and our ears have to hear our shortcomings in order for true acknowledgement to take place. And when we acknowledge that sin and ask for mercy, our ears need to hear that we are forgiven. That is how the Lord lifts the burden from our shoulders and nails it to his cross. And from that cross, love and mercy flow and carry us to His presence. I understand with my head and heart the importance of the sacrament, but that doesn’t make it any easier to wait in that line. It doesn’t make it any easier to look at myself in the mirror and admit who I really am.

Lately, I have been feeling very unworthy of God’s presence. No matter how hard I try to be worthy, I fall far short of the goal. And I have been frustrated by my inability to be the person God calls me to be. This experience with Mike has made me realize that I can’t be who God is calling me to be unless I weed the garden. Just as Mike called me, the Lord is calling me and offering me the opportunity to ask for forgiveness. Even though I don’t deserve it, He is offering me mercy. Weeding the garden will always be a dirty, but necessary, task. I must not let the weeds choke out the flowers God is trying desperately to plant in my heart. I must ask for His mercy and live in His love so the flowers have a chance to blossom for His glory.

P.S. This article was written and published with Mike's blessing. Thanks Mike!

The Holy Chalice

2010-08-20T17:20:00.000-07:00

When I walked into the church for Mass this past Sunday, I was immediately accosted by a Knight. “Excuse me,” he said while trying to balance a squirming toddler in his arms, “Can your family take the Elijah cup this weekend? We don’t have a family signed up.”

Considering that I walked into the church alone (my husband was parking the car), I was surprised that the Knight knew I was part of a family. I could chalk it up to luck on his part or perhaps divine providence. I went for the latter and after assessing the desperate look on his face (Mass was just seven minutes away), I gladly accepted and promptly went over to the book to officially sign up. The Knight was relieved.

Each week in our community, a family takes the Elijah cup home and promises to pray for an increase in religious vocations. The cup is a blessed chalice used at Mass for the precious blood. The family is presented with the cup at the end of Mass and brings it home where they put it in a place of honor. Every day, the family gathers around the cup and prays for an increase in vocations with the same faith of the widow in 1 Kings 17: 7-15. In this passage, the Lord asked the widow to feed Elijah her last bit of food and in return the Lord promised that he would provide her flour and oil until rain fell again and the famine ended. She obeyed and because of her faith and obedience, there was always flour in her jar and oil in her jug and they didn’t go hungry. We too need to pray with the same faith that the Lord will continue to call priests, deacons, brothers and sisters to guide and nurture His sheep. And those called will answer and dedicate themselves to religious life so that the sheep will not go hungry during the famine.

All during the mass, I watched the cup. I watched our pastor pour the wine and hold it up to heaven. I watched and was humbled at the awesome moment of consecration. This cup was holding the precious blood of our Lord. This cup was holy. Our family would be trusted with this cup – to pray with this cup. What an awesome responsibility we had been given just seven minutes before the start of Mass. At the end of Mass, our pastor called us forward and handed the cup to my very excited 10 year old son. The reverence I felt for this holy cup could be seen in the enthusiasm on my son’s face as he held the cup. My heart expanded with joy because he got it. He understood the Eucharist with his heart.

Recently, our family dedicated ourselves to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. We Enthroned Him as King of our family and home. We invited all our friends and family to witness as we placed his image above our fireplace, got on our knees and dedicated ourselves – mind, body and soul to Him. Since we have made this dedication to Him, I can see how we are changed. We are drawn to the Eucharist. Mass is more meaningful. Adoration once a month isn’t enough. The other day, my husband and I were lamenting over the fact our schedules don’t allow us to attend daily mass. I have even started watching mass on EWTN only to find myself frustrated that I couldn’t be physically there to receive our Lord. We are drawn to the Eucharist like a moth to a flame.

I think this is why I was so enamored by the cup. After Mass, we brought the Elijah cup home and placed the holy chalice on our mantle – right below our image of Jesus and His Sacred Heart. It was so fitting to see the cup there with the image. We prayed around the cup as the week went on. And then one morning, I came downstairs and stopped in front of the cup. I started to thank God for allowing that Knight to stop me in my tracks on the way to mass – to thank Him for letting us have this holy cup in our home, this cup that contained His precious blood. And that is when I heard His voice in my head say “but you are my living cup. I was present in that holy chalice, but now I am present in you. You came to the table, partook of that cup and now I live on in you – my holy, living chalice.”

Suddenly, the cup on my mantle wasn’t as shiny. The Lord was present in that cup, but now He is present in me. All week I had been walking around my home captivated by that cup without realizing that what was in that cup was now in me. He is part of me. He nourishes me. While that cup is just a cup that the wine can hold, my body is a living thing that the Lord’s precious blood can nourish and become one with. The Lord’s heart truly becomes one with mine in the Eucharist. He dresses me physically and spiritually in His salvation.
As I let these words sink into my understanding, I immediately felt unworthy. Am I holy enough to be a living chalice? Am I worthy enough for the Lord to be present in me so intimately? The answer is no. I am not. I fall far short. And when I quickly came to this realization, I heard Him say, “But I’m doing it anyway. I love you in spite of your unworthiness.”

I understand why the Church calls it a mystery. As I am drawn closer to the Eucharist, the light I am walking in becomes brighter and brighter, and my unworthiness is more and more apparent. And when I stop to take in the state of my soul and see my unworthiness in His light, He takes the opportunity to tell me that He loves me in spite of my unworthiness. He knew how unworthy I was before He let them nail Him to that cross. He knew of my wretchedness before He allowed the crown of thorns to be pressed into His head. He knew of my nature before He offered His back to that first whip. He knew about me in the garden. He knew. And He did it anyway. And He keeps doing it over and over, humbling himself into the hands of the priest at the altar and becoming present in the Eucharist, all because He loves me and He wants to live in me. This is a great mystery my finite brain cannot understand. This is a love foreign to my human heart. This is salvation my soul doesn’t deserve. But all my spirit wants to do is be present with and in the Eucharist; to be present with and in Him. I pray that He will continue to give me the strength, courage and desire to keep flying towards Him like the ugly moth to the beautiful flame.

Transfiguration Prayer

2010-08-06T19:39:00.000-07:00

Transfigure my mind, O Lord, transfigure my mind. Change my thoughts to your perfect will. Use my words to seek you out. Give me wisdom so I may find you in the midst of this world. Give me understanding so I may know your truth. Give me knowledge so I may know you and know myself. Rain down your light so I may see your path. Take my mind, O Lord, and make it a worthy gift for the Father.

Transfigure my heart, O Lord, transfigure my heart. Bring my stony heart to life. Place my cold heart in the furnace of your divine love and allow your fire to melt the ice, soften the hardness and enlighten the darkness. Infuse it with your love and mercy. Give me courage to die to this humanity so that my heart may truly be yours. Take my heart, O Lord, and make it a worthy gift for the Father.

Transfigure my soul, O Lord, transfigure my soul. Have mercy on my unworthiness. Have pity on my fallen nature. Allow your body and blood to wash me white as snow. Clothe me in your salvation. Give my dying soul your life. I long to lose myself in you for eternity. Take my soul, O Lord, and make it a worthy gift for the Father.

The West Sun

2010-07-14T20:20:00.000-07:00

During my first summer here in Texas, I learned about the “West Sun”. In my opinion, this is the hottest sun known to mankind. Soon after moving here, I was at a drum corps rehearsal on a particularly sunny afternoon in July when some poor corps member said, “Where are we rehearsing? The face of the sun?” In fact, it gets so hot here that there are many rules in place for any school activities that practice outside in order to keep kids safe from the scorching heat of the West Sun. To sum it up, the afternoon summer sun in Texas is HOT- fryin’ an egg on the concrete kind of hot.

And unfortunately for me, my house faces the West Sun. Which means you can’t touch the handle on my front door after 2pm without being branded. But for me, even more unfortunate than accidental branding is the annual death of my garden. Every year, my garden is baked in the West Sun. I live in a cookie cutter neighborhood where all home owners are expected to keep up their gardens and landscaping. We are supposed to plant flowers and make it look nice and good and suburbanish. Oddly enough, I enjoy the challenge and try to live up to these expectations, but the West Sun has thwarted me at every turn during my seven year tenure here in Texas. Every spring, I go to the garden store with renewed hope that this will be the year. This time, I will find the plants that will grow and flourish on the face of the sun. This will be the year my garden will thrive instead of bake. And every year, the newly-planted flowers succumb to the heat and hand their lives over to the West Sun. It’s very frustrating.

So, over the years, I have gone head to head with the West Sun. And each year, I think of new ways to battle this unrelenting warrior. In the early years, I had an important weapon in my arsenal- water. Before the reign of water restrictions, I was able to let my sprinkler system water my garden every day. And this was a big help. This allowed the flowers to survive through the end of July. However, when the water restrictions were imposed, I was forced to water the garden by hand either in the early morning or evening. Because I am a busy mom, this didn’t always happen, and the garden was baked by the beginning of July. Since the water restrictions, I have not come up with any more solutions to keep the plants alive, and so every summer by the 4th, my garden is a flower graveyard- a sad sacrifice to the West Sun.

But this year, something strange has been happening. As always, I planted the “full sun” plants this spring with renewed hope. And as soon as the summer West Sun shone hot in the June sky, the plants started to succumb, and my hope faded. But then, it started to rain. We have been in this tropical weather pattern for a few weeks now, and the clouds and rain have chased the West Sun away to tolerable levels. And the flowers are starting to recover. I have never seen a recovery in my garden, and I am at a loss for words. But the whole point of this overly long diatribe about the salvation of my baking garden is this: the garden could not be saved by any solutions I could come up with, but rather the unlikely and somewhat miraculous event of extended tropical weather in North Texas.

As I have walked on this road less traveled, I have struggled a bit in my prayer life. I have to admit that I lacked trust in God. I did not like to pray for specific things because I did not want to be disappointed when they didn’t come to pass. I didn’t want the evidence of unanswered prayers to shake my faith in my Creator. I didn’t want to be tested in this way. But then I discovered that if I didn’t trust God with my specific problems, then I was keeping myself from growing in Him. If I don’t ask God for the water, then how can I bloom into the beautiful flower He longs to see in His garden?

So, I tried it. I stepped out of the boat and immediately sank in the water. I specifically prayed for the resolution of some financial issues my husband and I were having, and the specific resolution did not come to pass. My fear of unanswered prayer was realized. But it didn’t shake my faith like I thought it would. After I let go of the anger and went to reconciliation, I heard His voice tell me “stop giving me solutions and just let me have the problem. Trust that I have the solution.”

So, I have been mulling this over. And I have realized that we cannot go to God with our problems along with a list of solutions He is allowed to choose from. God does not work that way. He knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows the best way to work something out so that we will be able to see Him better and walk that much closer to Him. He already knows the end and His goal is to draw us closer to Him so we can feel His love and peace as we live this life to that end. And that is what I have to have faith in.

I must trust. I must trust God with my specific problem and then trust that He has a specific solution. I can’t go to Him asking for fewer restrictions with water so that I may water the garden, but I must go to Him asking Him to nourish the dying flowers in the best way He sees fit. My prayer must be for Him to change my heart to His will and to open my mind to His ways. I must give up my desires and trust that the desires He has for me are greater than I can imagine. When I find His will, then the miracle of tropical rain will wash away the dust and help me see the world from His perfect perspective. I must trust.

Finding Heaven

2010-06-28T20:54:00.000-07:00

“What is heaven?” the little girl asked, big blue eyes staring at the Sunday school teacher with curious wonder.

“It is paradise.” The teacher answered.

The little girl pondered her answer while twirling the lace on her shoe. She looked up again with the same curious look, “What is paradise?”

“It is a place where everyone is happy and has everything they ever wanted.” The teacher seemed pleased with her answer as a smile started to spread across the little girl’s face.

The girl’s eyes began to dance as she imagined the dolls, doll houses, and endless doll playthings. “What a wonderful God we have!” thought the little girl. She couldn’t wait to get to heaven.

As I grew older, I learned that heaven is where God is, and when we get there, we will spend eternity worshipping Him. The little girl in me couldn’t help but be disappointed that there would be no time for dolls. I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around the idea that just worshipping God would be paradise. I loved God. I wanted to meet God. I wanted to live forever in heaven. But really, spending forever worshipping Him? Was that my destiny? Was that paradise?

In the Baptist Church where I was raised, there was a lot of preachin’ about heaven and hell. My Daddy likes to call them “fire-and-brimstone” sermons. At the end of these sermons, we were pretty much scared to death of hell or anything we could do to earn a place there. Those of us who were saved were inspired to evangelize to those who had not yet committed their lives to Christ and were in danger of spending eternity in hell. If you were not saved, then after listening to these sermons, you were inspired to sprint to the altar in order to avoid a “fire-and-brimstone” destiny. So, growing up, I had a fear of hell and thus desired heaven as a way to avoid it. I knew that heaven would be great, but I just didn’t have any idea what it would be like. Worshipping God forever wasn’t a concept I was mature enough to grasp.

But now that I’m older, and somewhat more mature, the concept of heaven seems quite different to me. It has helped because I have walked a little farther along in my journey with the Lord. I’ve had experiences with Him I can’t quite explain. I have had moments with Him I don’t quite understand. But they have all been wrapped up with this overwhelming Divine Love that I am completely unworthy of feeling. With each new step I take, I fall completely head-over-heels in love with Jesus all over again. Now that I have been nourished by the waters of life, I can’t seem to leave the river. I just want to live on the river bank and bathe in the Divine Love that holds me together. I imagine that heaven is where I will experience this divine love with all my senses, completely adore its beautiful source and wholly give myself over to Him forever.

So, now I think I get it. The desire for heaven is the Father’s goal for our lives. He doesn’t want us to desire it because it is better than hell, or because it is paradise. He wants us to desire it because it is where He is. To desire heaven is to desire the presence of God. Our purpose in life is not to get to heaven, but to grow in love for God so that heaven, or being in the presence of God, is the desire of every fiber in our being. He longs for us to grow in His divine love so that we willingly give up our lives to Him just as he gave up His life for us. And when we let go of ourselves and replace the empty space with His love, mercy, and will, we will find ourselves in that place where our hearts beat for Him and our soul’s deepest, overwhelming desire is to bask in the glory of God forever.

And who knows, when I finally get to heaven, maybe Jesus will play dolls with me after all.

Driving From Distraction

2010-06-17T19:13:00.000-07:00

A jack hammer is the best description I can find for the sound that roused me awake. I glanced at the clock- 5:30. Why would they be jack hammering the alley outside my bedroom window at 5:30 in the morning? Then I got that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I stumbled out of bed and turned off the air conditioner. The hammering stopped along with my heart. I fell back on the bed. As I lay there wondering what in the world could be wrong with the condenser, the promise I made the night before came floating to the front of my mind- I wasn’t going to let anything distract me from doing my prayers and quiet time this morning. Lately, I have been surrendering to distraction and skipping this vital beginning to my day. Little did I know the challenge I would face on this particular morning.

My distracted nature drives me crazy. My mind is in constant motion. While I am working on one task, my brain is busy planning its assault on the next task. I am always concerned about managing what little time I have in the best way possible. I usually cannot watch TV or sit through movies because the lists in my mind of what I could be doing haunt me until I get up to do them. And, since it is my nature as a woman, I tend to put what I need to do for myself at the end of the list. When I am finally alone and ready to be quiet or prayerful or even asleep, relaxing my mind takes effort. Once my eyes close, the events of the day play over and over like a broken record. And before I know it, my mind is miles away from where it should be usually robbing me of prayer or sleep. Needless to say, not only can my distracted nature be a stumbling block to my spiritual growth but it also threatens to rob me of the joy of life in general.

I get particularly upset with my distracted nature when I am at mass. Mass is a place where I go to meet Jesus. Our Eucharistic Lord becomes present among us and that thought makes my spirit soar. Mass should be a place where I can let go of all the stressors of life and just bask in the glory of God. Unfortunately, I am most distracted at mass. I am worried about the noise my children are making. I am worried about the world that is waiting for me after mass. I am worried about all the burdens I want to lay on the altar. And sometimes, I am so distracted that I forget to put them there. I feel particularly guilty when I receive the Eucharist in a distracted state of mind. I try to focus but there are some days when my child is throwing a fit all the way to the front of the line and I just need to get him out of there. And then the guilt I feel for not savoring the experience or not fully appreciating the sacrifice the Lord is making for me robs me of joy. During the times when I put the distractions away and am truly present at mass, it is a glorious experience. I wish that I could do it every time.

Receiving the Eucharist is the high light of my Christian experience. When I am completely present in the moment, my experience with the Lord is extraordinary. I can feel his blood coursing through my veins. I can feel the warmth of his life in me. At that moment, His presence in me is all that matters. Before I became Catholic, I felt a little left out that I couldn’t share in the Eucharist. After I was received into the church, I understood why they made me wait. I needed to fully understand and appreciate what was happening. This understanding is one of the things that makes the moment so powerful. When you are received into the church, you are forever committed to the Lord. You are part of the body of Christ. Christ lives in you and through you. The commitment a Catholic makes to the Lord is similar to a marriage commitment. And meeting Jesus at the table and sharing in the Eucharist is the culmination of that commitment. It is our communion with Him. It is how He touches us from Heaven.

I think there are many Catholics who are like me- distracted. Whether it is they are distracted by their own lives or things that are going on in the Church. Some are distracted by a past hurt or wrong doing. Others are distracted by temptations or burdens of this world. And just like my experience, these distractions rob them of their special moment with Jesus.

My brothers and sisters, we need to rise to the challenge. We need to set our distractions aside and be present with our Eucharistic Lord. We need to let Him fill us. We need to let Him touch us with His love. Distracted or not, He gives us His heart. It’s our choice to be present with Him and feel the life and love flowing from His heart. We should come to the table with eager anticipation. We should come to the table completely focused on His beautiful sacrifice to us. We should come to the table empty of ourselves so He can fill us to the brim with His divine joy and love. He is waiting and hoping we will come.

Living With Passion

2010-06-16T16:52:00.000-07:00

I heard a wise father once say “If I can just instill passion in my children’s heart for their faith and their God, then the rest will come.” He is right. Facilitating the desire for God is our vocation as parents. And there is no better way to facilitate that desire than to model our passion for God to our children. Sharing our passion with our children shows them who we really are and what we really value. Our true hearts are reflected in our passion. Ultimately, our children will learn that passion is what people seek. Because discovery of our passion is where we find our true selves. Living with passion gives our lives purpose and our souls peace.

Catholics call Jesus’ last day on this earth His passion. And it’s because His willing death is a true reflection of His heart which burns with great divine love for mankind. Love is Jesus’ passion and He showed us the boundless depths of himself and of His passion by willingly giving up His unblemished life for love of our unworthy souls. Jesus models passion for us just as we should model it for our children.

I have thought that I have found my passion at different points in my life. First, it was music. Then it was teaching. Of course I am very passionate about my family. But this week I think I found my true burning passion. I have been trying to put my finger on it since I was a teenager with little success. I now know that my heart was still forming and you have to have heart before you can have passion. As I reflect on all the moments that led me to my God, and then to the Catholic Church and see them in the light of the events of this week, it all makes sense. Everything ties so perfectly together and has brought me to this moment of discovery.

I think I can safely say that I had a very different experience growing up in the Southern Baptist Church than many of my Catholic brothers and sisters. The focus of my spiritual upbringing was on a personal relationship with Jesus. It was discussed constantly. We were encouraged to talk to Jesus, to turn to him in our hour of need, to celebrate with him in our hour of triumph, and to love him with all of our being. I was taught a simple faith devoid of all the rich history and tradition. Our only focus was to discover the love the Lord had for us and then to love Him back. It was a great experience and a vital part of my spiritual journey. Although I am somewhat jealous of the knowledge “cradle Catholics” have of the church, I wouldn’t trade my upbringing in the Baptist Church for anything. It was in this church where Jesus found me, watched me grow, challenged me, loved me and called me to Himself.

Walking away from the Baptist church hurt. My faith was challenged on many levels. It was like leaving home knowing you are not welcome back. Even though I know if I walked back into a Baptist church today they would welcome me with open arms, I still feel like I can’t go back. I left because my faith was challenged and the church of my childhood could not provide answers. Jesus placed people in my life that could answer my questions and light the path to the Catholic Church. When I arrived in the Catholic Church, my faith was still challenged. The Catholic Church was very different from faith in which I was raised. For a long while, it felt like I had no home. I was that weird Catholic who prayed to Jesus in my own words. Jesus wasn’t distant to me like He was to many of my Catholic friends. Many of those friends disconnected their faith from their everyday life. I was confused by that and I missed sharing my faith journey with my brothers and sisters in Christ. For a number of years, my life in the Catholic Church was lonely. But I couldn’t leave it. Jesus was there. I was hungry for the Eucharist. I was lonely for community but filled with my Lord.

Then I went on the CRHP(Christ Renews His Parish) retreat in my community. And I found the people who wanted to know and did know the Lord like I did. I discovered that I was not alone in the Church. I found the other weird Catholics and I couldn’t have been happier. Once again, I could share my journey with my brothers and sisters in Christ. I could sing with them, worship with them, and learn with them. But what I was most excited for is that I could pray with them. And I could ask them to pray for me.

While I was praising God for this gift of Christian community, my heart ached for my catholic brothers and sisters who lacked this personal relationship with Jesus. I have been privy to several conversations recently where it was admitted that the Catholic Church has failed to instill this desire for passion in at least the past two to three generations. Although the Lord touches us through the Eucharist, Catholics have not been encouraged to seek Him out with their hearts. The effect of this lack of evangelization by the Church to its own family of believers is still evident in the faith of many Catholics today.

This week, I had the pleasure of being on a mission. I have been on a core team that brought a Redemptorist Priest and Lay missionary from the Sacred Heart Apostolate to our parish community. The purpose of the mission is to begin a new ministry where families will enthrone Jesus’ Sacred Heart in their homes and lives. Now here is the exciting part- by enthroning Jesus in your home, you are engaging him in a personal relationship. There it is. There is the answer to my aching heart. Jesus set this up so perfectly.

I was brought up in an environment where I cultivated a personal, heart to heart relationship with Jesus. That relationship was culminated when I was received into the Catholic Church- a choice I made through the prompting of the Holy Spirit. In the Catholic Church, I encountered many Catholics who did not have this personal relationship with Christ. I was lonely. I was sad for them. Little did I realize that Jesus was forming my heart during this time. When I was ready, he gave me the community I so desperately needed and desired. He ignited a burning love in my heart for Him and His community. In this small way, He made my heart like His heart.

And then He called me. I was kneeling in the fourth row. It was the second night of the mission- the night where everyone is invited to venerate the cross and then go to reconciliation. Because I was in the fourth row, I had no idea how many people were in the church. For a church of our size, 50-70 people usually turn out for special events and we were hoping for such a turn out. I was so blessed to see over 230 of my brothers and sisters in Christ walk down the aisle one at a time, kiss the cross and then happily stand in very long lines for confession. My heart expanded with joy. I felt as if I were in the middle of 230 celebrations of the prodigal son coming home. I felt as if I were seeing this spectacular event through the eyes of Jesus whose joy overtook every ounce of my being. The call was very clear. Promoting a personal heart to heart relationship with Jesus to my brothers and sisters in Christ is my passion. It is the burning desire of my heart- the heart the Lord has spent 32 years forming in me.

For now, my call is to my parish community. I am called to promote this ministry. I am called to evangelize my brothers and sisters and invite them to know the Lord with their hearts. I am called to outwardly model this heart to heart relationship in my everyday life. I am called to fervent prayer for my brothers and sisters. By living this call, I am finally living with passion. And the endless joy and love placed in my heart will be the fuel for the passionate fire that burns first for my Lord and then for my brothers and sisters in Christ whom the Lord loves more than human hearts can imagine.

Finding the Heart in My Depression

2010-05-21T21:42:00.000-07:00

So, I’ve been a little depressed lately. I get this way sometimes. It’s frustrating because there is no reason to be in a bad mood. Life is unchanged and all is good. But no matter how hard I try to talk myself out of it, the darkness still creeps in and sucks the life right out of my happiness. Before I know it, I’m surrounded. I can’t see my way around. The darkness is now my world. When I get this way, I don’t want to be around people. I want to hide in my dark world and let it conquer me for a little while. I know I need to make an effort to let in some light, but I lack the will to do so. All of my effort to live goes into my kids- trying to hide the darkness inside of me from them.
I especially despise the way the darkness conquers me spiritually. I lack the will to pray. I lack the will to be inspired. I lack the will to be happy in God’s presence- to be awed by his awesomeness. I let the darkness smother the fire that usually burns with great fury for my Lord. I surrender to the world and to my humanity. I do not rise to the challenge anymore. And out of my lack of fire, cold hard guilt is born. I hold onto the guilt and let its coldness seep into my world of darkness. Lately, I have noticed that with each new plunge into my dark world, I feel more conquered spiritually. It seems that with every step I take towards the Lord in my moments of happiness, that many more moments are stolen from me in these battles with the darkness. With each new round of depression, I grow guiltier, more sullen and angrier with the life that is taken from me. The turning point to the war being waged in my soul is drawing near. I almost feel as if I may be split in two.

I know that the Lord has not abandoned me in these moments, but rather I have taken a step or two away from the Lord. I have let the darkness cloud the path where I normally walk. That blinding darkness has stolen the prize I normally see at the end of the road and banished the light that illuminates my path to claim it. But now that I have taken these steps away from the light, how do I find my way back? How do I find the light when all I can see is darkness? When depression attacks, my rational is gone. I know with my intellect what makes sense, but my emotions do not reflect any kind of rational thought. I find it very frustrating to be in a place where my emotions have no reason to react the way they do. But I am blessed with a very logical mind. And even though my emotions want to live in the darkness, my mind tells me that there is light- if I ask. All I have to do is call upon it. This choice is my saving grace- as long as I can muster the will to ask.

This time, my journey out of the darkness began with my run at the gym. For the first time since the darkness trapped me, the will to pray arose. Since I wasn’t feeling well, I prayed that the Lord would help me get through my 3 mile run. I ran 7 miles in 75 minutes burning 770 calories. The sevens were his message to me that he is here and cares about what matters to me. My run wasn’t helping anyone but myself and he gave me the ability to go way beyond my expectations.

Soon after, my dear friend invited me to a charismatic prayer meeting which was the last place my guilty, cold, dark world wanted to be. I had been before and I was taken aback by their courage and faith in their prayer. They were very open to the Holy Spirit and proclaimed their experiences as they happened without hesitation or reflection- without all the questioning that usually goes on in my mind when the Lord speaks to my heart. Their courage was amazing to me- something I did not think was in my future to experience. So, I wasn't sure if I should go back. I put it on the shelf of future things I may consider being a part of. However, out of my dark world, I heard the Lord calling me to go. He spoke to me in songs on the radio and in the voice of my child. He made it clear where I was supposed to be on Thursday at 7:00 p.m.. So, reluctantly, I went. During the songs of praise, I had scenes pop into my head. And during their sharing, I knew that I was supposed to share what I saw. The Lord did speak to me like he speaks to them. I am not made to sit and admire, but to participate. My light was turned back on and I could finally see my way out of the darkness. I pray that my courage to walk towards the light will soon follow.

I don’t know if this will be my last battle, or if the war has just begun. I don’t know if the darkness will steal anymore of my light or of my life. I don’t know if I will always come out okay at the end. But I do know that Jesus will never leave my side. That he will always be near me. I may not always see him with the darkness seeps in. I may not always feel his presence when I allow the coldness to envelop me. But I will always know that he will light my candle if I can muster enough will to ask. He is the master of miracles, and in these moments, I feel I am his greatest task. May my experiences of darkness ultimately bring Him glory for this is the purpose for which I am existing.

Unrelenting Independence

2010-04-24T08:55:00.000-07:00

As I scooped him up in my arms, he let out a blood curdling scream. I was sure that everyone within a 5 mile radius would conclude that I was kidnapping my little three year old blond-headed likeness from the play ground. I made the decision to scoop him up after his third “I have to make pee-pee” announcement. Potty training my little strong willed tyrant has been the bane of my existence for the past year. Yes, you heard me correctly, YEAR! We are now in the “I don’t want to stop playing, mommy so please make my pee-pee feeling go away without the potty” phase. He screamed all the way to the car, then the nearby store and then the bathroom where he relieved himself of a full gallon of fluid after which we both felt so much better.

Naturally, my prayers lately have been for patience and wisdom. How do I foster his independence without giving up all control? At three, he obviously still needs boundaries and direction but I don’t want to squash his little forming and wonderful personality. I don’t want his world to turn into No!, Don’t!, and Stop! At times, I feel like I walking a difficult tight rope and hoping there is a net down there somewhere to catch me.

While walking my well traveled tight rope the other day, I wondered if God feels this frustration with me. A resounding YES immediately rang through my brain. I chuckled. I have to admit that my little three year old tyrant owes is strong independent spirit to his mother. My own mother has a book full of similar stories that she has recounted to me over the years. She is very familiar with my tightrope. And I am very sure she is enjoys watching her grown tyrant try to parent a little tyrant clone.

My mother’s frustration with my childhood independence is probably only a fraction of the frustration God feels with my adult independence. He is very patient with my unwillingness to surrender. He waits as I give up control a little bit at a time. He showers me with unconditional love no matter how hard I try to hold onto the steering wheel. I am fully aware of the boundless infinite love and patience of God.

Being that God is my creator, I have to wonder why he made me this way. Why do I have such an unrelenting independent streak? Why is He making it so hard on Himself to parent me? And then what I learned in my adult catechism class came rushing back: the gift of choice. God made us to love but he does not make us love. Love is our choice. My independence is the result of His gift of choice. The trinity shares a perfect agape love. It’s a love with no conditions or expectations. The three persons in the trinity completely give themselves to each other. God wants to share this love with us. He completely gives himself to us on the cross and in the Eucharist. And his heart aches for us to give our hearts to him. Even though he is the all powerful God, he doesn’t make us love him. Love cannot be forced. He gives us our independence, loves us with his agape love and waits for us to love him back. So, maybe I need to stop kicking and screaming and just surrender and let him scoop me up into his strong and loving arms.

The Passion of the Christ

2010-03-31T21:40:00.000-07:00

Last night, I went to the cross. I watched our Lord sold for 30 pieces of silver. I watched his best friend turn his back on him. I watched his blood stain the ground as his flesh was ripped from his body. I watched men of God call for his death. I watched them hammer nails into his hands. I watched his heart break. I watched his mother weep. I watched him suffer and die. And I watched in horror. For the first time, I watched the Passion of the Christ. I have avoided it all these years. I had no desire to see my Lord suffer. I did not want that visual image to haunt me like I know it will.

I felt the nudge to watch it when I ran across images from the movie on YouTube. I was preparing a presentation on salvation for the middle school youth and I was looking for an inspirational video that would grab their attention. The attention that was grabbed was mine as images of the movie kept rolling across the screen. I resisted. I told Jesus that if he wanted me to watch that movie, then it better be easy to find- like be on HBO when I happen to be flipping channels. I wasn’t going to go to great lengths to watch my Lord tortured and killed. He has been answering a lot of my prayers lately and this one was no exception. My dear friend just happened to bring up the subject of the movie on our way out of mass on Sunday. I promptly shared my reservations about watching it. She empathized and said that she was thinking about watching it again but was pretty sure she would have a hard time renting it during holy week. I told her that if she happens to find it, then maybe I would be interested in borrowing it- maybe. To my shocking surprise, she arrived at my house 30 minutes later with the movie. She found three copies at the video store and promptly rented two and told me it was a sign. So I was trapped. I couldn’t say no anymore.

In my Baptist church, we really didn’t talk about how Christ suffered. I can’t recall a preacher standing at the pulpit describing how Christ suffered. In fact, my Baptist church uses a cross instead of a crucifix because they don’t want to focus on the suffering Lord but rather the risen Lord. My first encounter with our suffering Lord happened in the Catholic Church where I came face to face with the crucifix. It took me a while to get comfortable with this image. But once I did, I realized that by knowing more about his suffering, I could know more about his love. I went from the crucifix to the sorrowful mysteries of the rosary and stopped there. That was the extent of my knowledge of his suffering- until now.

Horrified is not a big enough word to describe how I felt through the entire movie. Although I knew how it was going to end, I found myself pleading for someone to make it stop. How could they do this to a person- any person? How could they call themselves priests of our loving God and murder someone like this? One emotion I was surprised to feel was anger. How could Judas betray my Jesus and sell him for 30 pieces of silver? How could men of God incite a crowd to kill their messiah? How come no one came to his senses and called for the torture to end? I am angry. This was my Jesus. And they tortured and killed him. I know that I will go through many different emotions as I try to unwrap myself from this movie. At least that is what I keep saying to myself. I hope that the anger will give way to something different soon. I feel guilty taking this anger with me into the Triduum. However, I do feel a little peace with my anger so maybe that is what Jesus wants me to feel before I enter into Holy Thursday.

It has helped to talk it out with my husband. He pointed out to me that the society Jesus was born into was a lot more brutal than what we know today. This is how he is able to justify some of the torture. But that got me thinking. God could have brought his son into any point in history. Why did he do it at such a brutal time? Or if he did choose modern times, would we do the same? Would Jesus meet the same end? Would he suffer like he did? Where would I be in the story? Would I be anointing his feet with oil and drying it with my hair? Would I be weeping with Mary? Or would I be standing in the crowd and calling for his death? There is a reason I was born 2000 years after his crucifixion. He knew I couldn’t handle it. He knows that had I been there, I may not be with him. Had I been there, I may not have heard him call me. I may not have recognized who he was. I may have been standing in the crowd like all the rest of them. He knows me so well.

I am blessed to have been born at this point in history where I can experience him with my spirit while surrounded by the sacraments and holding hands with my brothers and sisters in Christ. And the reason I can experience him is because of his willing crucifixion. He can call me to himself because his suffering and death won the salvation of mankind. All I have to do is step out of the crowd and live in his love. And that love has so much more meaning and depth now that I have seen his passion and watched him suffer. I am completely unworthy of that suffering, but he did it anyway. He loves me anyway. And in return, all I can do is give myself to him. Since his heart stopped beating for me, mine must beat for him.

Set Me Free

2010-03-29T14:42:00.000-07:00

I long to be in your presence,
call me, Lord.

I long to bask in your glory,
save me, Lord.

I long to live in your will,
guide me, Lord.

I long to feel your love,
surround me, Lord.

Be my God and I your creation.
Be my King and I your servant.
Be my Father and I your child.
Be my Light and I your candle.

Show me what I have not yet surrendered.
Show me where to walk with you.
Show me who you want me to be.
Show me how to live in your love.

I long to be in your presence.
Set me free, Lord.

My Denial of Our Lord

2010-03-27T11:37:00.000-07:00

I have to go to confession. I have done it yet again. I have denied my Lord.

I grew up in a solid Southern Baptist family. A family that was a corner stone in many of the churches we called home. A family that preachers stand at the pulpit and call families to be. A family that not only seemed solid on the outside, but full of God's love on the inside. I lived it. I grew up in it. I was part of it. I am so blessed for this experience.

And then I had to make a choice. Either follow Jesus to the Catholic Church or stay with my family in the church that raised me. It was not an easy choice. It was clear to me which path to take, but I knew my family would be hurt in the process. I knew they would be confused. I knew they would pray for my return. I knew that this choice would separate me from them and they knew it would separate them from me. It was not an easy choice. But because of the love that reigned in our family, we were able to accept the different person I had become. The person Jesus was and is calling me to be. They were able to look past the differences in our faiths and find the love that bound us from the beginning. Although there is still some sadness, there is a glimmer of joy once again. And I am deathly afraid of crushing that glimmer.

I find it so hard to be Catholic in front of my family. It’s easy to invite them to baptisms, first communions and mass on holidays when they are visiting us, but it’s totally different to be Catholic in front of them. To share my experiences with the Eucharist or our Lady is like I am slapping them in the face. It’s like I am celebrating my betrayal of their faith. Most of what they believe is wrong with the Catholic faith is where I am finding my deepest experiences with our Lord. So, the idea of really sharing my faith with them is like twisting the knife I threw at their hearts on my way out of their church. I don't want to twist that knife. I don't want to hurt them anymore. So I stay silent.

And in that silence, I hear Jesus asking me to speak, to share, and to be who he is calling me to be. I have ignored him. I have not obeyed. I don't want to twist that knife. I lack courage. I lack faith that Jesus knows what he is doing. I lack faith that he will heal the hurt my sharing will inflict. My finite brain cannot see past the pain my exodus brought to their hearts. I must trust that he does see past it. I must trust that the separation imposed by my choice will ultimately bring Him glory. I must trust.

It's in moments like these that I can relate to what Peter must have felt. I love the Lord with an all consuming love that I can't quite understand. It’s a love that must be from God because I am completely unworthy of feeling it. It envelops me. Its alive in me. I can only imagine how much more love Peter felt having actually walked with Jesus. He felt his hands wash his feet. He listened to his voice speak the wisdom of God. He watched him walk on water, feed the hungry, and transfigure before the heavens. Oh, how Peter must have loved our Lord. And when the moment came for Peter to declare that love, he failed. And he was given a second chance, and he failed. And then the third opportunity came, and he failed again. Peter shows us how easy it is to let our humanity smother the burning love. He shows us how easily our fear can overcome our courage. And our Lord knows this. And he is ready to forgive when we fail. Peter went on to be the rock upon which our Lord built his church. In order to be that person, Peter must have not only been forgiven, but he also must have forgiven himself. How else could he have had the courage to go on and build Christ's church?

So must I. I must ask for forgiveness and then accept that forgiveness. I must ask for Jesus to help my unbelief. I must ask for courage and step out of the boat. I must trust that the impossible will be made possible by the one who wills it so. I must be who Jesus is calling me to be. I must be confident that although my family may label me as zealous or crazy, Jesus wants me to speak of my experience with him. When I step out of that boat, I will pay a price. I will sacrifice a piece of myself that binds me with them once again. And when the hurt causes my faith to sink in the water, Jesus will extend his hand and lead me to do the impossible. I must trust.

Leaving the Jail

2010-03-12T21:54:00.000-08:00

John 1:1-5

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

Have you ever wondered what the pre-incarnate Christ was up to before the incarnation? I have never really thought about it before. He was in the beginning. He is the word of God. The word was with God in the beginning. I never thought of the pre-incarnate Christ standing next to the father in the beginning. All things were made for him and through him. He participated in creation. God the father made creation out of love for the son. He made us for Christ and both have loved us like they love each other. Imagine how they felt when Adam and Eve fell to temptation and forever separated themselves from the love of God. Imagine how devastated they were when the effects of that fall passed through the generations and their beautiful creations chose to die rather than be with God. Imagine how desperate they were to find a way to save us from ourselves. They came to our level. They came to us. Christ took upon our humanity to bring us the message of God’s love. And then he paid the price for our sin. He showed us God’s unending and overwhelming love for us by dying an innocent and horrible death so that we may have a way back to God.

Christ’s death on the cross is such a mystery to me. I am a very logical thinker and logic is not very clear in this act by Christ. My finite brain has a hard time wrapping itself around this event which is frustrating because this is the major event for Christianity. This is the defining moment for us. This event restored our relationship with God and allowed him to touch us with his love in a whole new way.

Dying for someone is the ultimate act of love. But Christ didn’t just die for us. It’s not like he pushed us out of harm’s way from a speeding train and ended up getting killed. No, Christ’s death was a lot more complicated. Our punishment for original sin is separation from God- a spiritual death. We were not going to be spending our eternity with God because of our sinful nature. Our sin got us the death sentence. That is our punishment. So, imagine your children get into trouble and end up on death row. What would you do? Not only can you not share in the wonderful life you dreamed for them, but you know that they are going to die there and you will never see them again. That is what God felt for us. So he went to work. You can see him working all over the Old Testament making covenants and making more covenants when covenants were broken. He molded a nation so that at least some of his earthly children would be somewhat prepared to recognize him when he did come to earth to bargain for our lives. And then he did come and walk among his children- he came to the jail. He taught about life outside of the jail. And then he talked the jailer into taking his life instead of ours. He volunteered to serve our death sentence- our horrible death sentence. And when the hour came, he was killed. And at that moment, we were set free. We were free to leave the jail.

I think that is where we are. We are all sitting in the jail and God is inviting us out. He is inviting us to take his son’s hand and walk out. He wants us to feel the sun on our face and the fresh air in our lungs. He wants us to see the vivid colors he painted in the sky as the sun takes upon a new day. He wants us to feel the warm sand between our toes and hear the beautiful songs he gave the birds. He wants us to experience life the way he created it for us. All we have to do is take Christ by the hand and walk out.

Sounds inviting doesn’t it? It sounds like a dream come true for us criminals. But, I think that it is harder to walk out of that jail then we realize. We are taken care of in that jail. They give us meals, a roof over our head and provide books and TV and the like to help us pass the time. We are comfortable. We have been in the jail so long that we have forgotten about what the outside world is like. The experience of God’s perfect world has become a myth- a story of long ago meant for dreamers or crazy people. The world we know is the jail and the world outside the jail is the unknown. Leaving that jail takes faith.

God knows how hard it is for us to leave. Although it breaks his heart that the children he died for are so reluctant to claim their lives with him, he understands that leaving the jail is a struggle. That is why he gives us so much to help- scripture, the sacraments, the church, angels, graces, and most of all, the Holy Spirit. He is hoping that we will leave and not go back. That we will take Christ by the hand and follow him to the life God wants us to experience. That we will accept the love poured out to us in the cross and live in it. He is waiting for us with open and loving arms. So, will you do it? Will you step into the unknown and leave the jail? I can only imagine the joy on Christ’s face when you reach for his hand.

Love

2010-03-09T20:11:00.000-08:00

Love. Now that is a big word. Just when I think I have learned enough to figure out love, I find that I am just scrapping the iceberg. I know that I crave love. I know that I need love more than I realize. I know that love belongs in my being like water belongs in a well. The desire to find that water to fill my soul is overwhelming. That desire has driven me to my knees. It has meant the choice between happiness and despair. I have found that love is where I am made to live.

I have been learning about triune love- the love of God- the love of the trinity. Altruistic love is a completely unselfish love that two beings share. It is a love that gives everything of one’s self to another and expects nothing in return. It is loving someone for who they are and not for what they have done or accomplished or have given. In the trinity, the Father and the Son share this perfect altruistic love for one another. Their love is so powerful that it takes on a being all its own in the Holy Spirit.

God created man in his own image. Our souls are vessels to hold love. Our souls need this love like our lungs need air. God desires with all of his being to share this love with us. He wants so much to fill our souls. But we have to say yes. We have to choose it. What would this love mean to us if he didn’t give us the choice to choose it? What kind of lover forces his love on his beloved? God loves us so much that he wants us to choose his love. He is patient enough to give us our lifetime to make this choice. His desire to share love with us is greater than we can ever imagine.

Because of original sin, we have been separated from God. Our ability to share in his love was greatly compromised when Adam chose to believe a lie. God has gone to great lengths to restore that relationship with us. God’s desire to give that love to us drove him to do the unthinkable. God gave up his beloved for us. The father sacrificed the second person of the trinity for us. He gave us the object of his powerful love. And Christ, for the love of us and the Father also did the unthinkable. He chose to leave the father’s presence and come to earth and become vulnerable to us. He became a helpless baby. He became a man in a world absent of the love that possessed every ounce his very being. He delivered the message of divine love to a generation that didn’t understand it or accept it. And when they rejected him, he continued to give- to love. When they couldn’t or wouldn’t understand His message, he showed them- he showed us. He completely gave himself to us. He took upon himself the punishment of our sin. He sacrificed himself so that we may share in the powerful love of God. This act by Christ is a mystery that I will spend my life unraveling. But I know that the love God shows us in this act is greater than my mind can imagine and my heart can understand.

So how do I grab a hold of this love? How do I come to accept the love of God and let it flow in my soul? Its one thing to say that I want to accept the love- but it’s an entirely different thing to actually do it. I am learning that accepting this love is a process. He gives me as much as I am ready to receive. I have chosen Christ. I am open to him. I have shared my life and I daily invite him to live in my soul. But I found that it doesn’t stop there. He asks for something greater from me. He wants me to love him like he loves me. Am I even capable of this kind of love? After suffering rejection and humiliation by the people he loved, he got up on a cross and died a horrible death so that I may share in eternal life with God. Is it possible for me to return this kind of love? I know that he doesn’t expect me to because altruistic love has no expectations. But I feel him asking me to try it. I think that the more I love, the more love I am able to accept. Sacrifice of one’s self to the other is the birth of this perfect love. I have to sacrifice my humanity. I have to surrender.

To surrender is to give up control. To surrender is to place myself in his hands. To surrender is to make His will my will. Out of love, he gave his life for me so I must surrender my life to him . I must free fall backwards into the arms of God- arms I cannot see with my humanity but whose strength I must trust with my spirit. I must let him take the wheel, let my life be his and allow him to live through me.

Even though I am the biggest control freak on the planet, over time I have managed to surrender some aspects of my life to God. And in each surrender, love flows. Love abundantly flows. It fills my soul and overflows into every aspect of my life. My spirit experiences a joy that words fail to describe- a joy that transcends my daily struggles. So that even though the storm rages all around, as long as my focus is on my Lord, the joy sustains me and the love flows.

Not only do I find joy in the surrender, but I find freedom. When I completely surrender to the Lord, freedom reigns. First, trust drives out fear which allows peace to replace worry. Then love flows more freely and joy overtakes my spirit. I am free to be loved, free to give love and free to live the life God wants me to experience. I am free to do the one thing I am made to do- worship and love my God.

An Exchange of Hearts

2010-02-11T21:52:00.000-08:00

I am taking a catechism class at church. We are reading Catholic Christianity by Kreeft which is an explanation of the Catechism. I have only gotten through the first chapter, but so far I am really impressed. I am especially impressed and excited about his take on salvation theology. You see, I have this debate always going on in my head. I was raised Protestant. I was taught doctrine of the Protestant faith for the first 18 years of my life. I can't just shake that off. I know to the depths of my soul that the Catholic faith is true, but I can just forget 18 years of Protestant education. So when I stumble across something that the two can agree on rather than debate about, I find a little peace.
In the Baptist church I was raised in, you are saved when you pray a special, simple prayer. Basically, you ask God for forgiveness for the way you have been living your life and you invite Jesus to live in your heart. By praying this prayer, you acknowledge that you believe in Jesus and that he wants to have a relationship with you. By inviting Him into your heart, you are engaging Him in that relationship and thus you gain salvation. It is a very simple process and also a very life changing process.
The Catholic Faith doesn't make it quite that plain and simple. But according to Kreeft, the Catechism does explain a very similar process. Faith is given to us by God. It is handed down to us through the Church. God places the desire for faith in us through the Holy Spirit. We have a choice. We can either accept the faith and open the door to our soul and invite God in our lives, or we can reject it. When we open the door and let God into our soul, we are choosing to act on the Faith. Salvation is the presence of God in our soul. So by acting on the Faith and allowing God into our soul, we gain salvation.
So, as you can see, the Protestants and Catholics agree here. God must be present in our hearts/soul in order for us to gain salvation. Now there are several other points about salvation that Catholics and Protestants can debate, but I am not going to go into those in this blog. I would like to savor this little bit of peace for right now.
There are several things that Catholics can learn from Protestants. One is the process they use to become saved. They have a conversion experience. They give Jesus their broken lives, broken families, broken friendships, and broken hearts. And they allow Jesus to work in them. They allow Him to change them. They trust Him to fix the wrong in their lives so they might be able to walk closer with Him. They allow Jesus to use them. They allow Jesus to reign in their soul.

When I was five, I prayed the special, simple prayer. I didn't really have anything broken inside me yet, but I know I was changed. Jesus did engage me in a personal relationship on that day. As I grew up, I sought after Him. I learned more about Him. I prayed to Him. I tried to be the person He wanted me to be. The more I sought after Him, the more strained my relationship with the Baptist church became. And then He led me out door of the Baptist church and into the door of a Catholic church which was the last place I thought I would ever be. But I followed Him. And when I finally got there and understood what was going on in the Mass- not just with my intellect, but with my spirit, I was so humbled. All these years, I was handing Jesus my heart. I was giving him my everything. I even went so far as to leave the faith of my family and friends to go to this strange church. And when I first got there, I was sure that Jesus was nuts. Why was I at a Catholic Mass? But then I looked at the sacrifice on the altar, and I finally understood what Jesus was doing for me. All these years, I had been handing Jesus my heart, and up there on the altar, Jesus was handing me His. My hunger for the Eucharist began on that day.
Naturally, one of the first books I bought when I decided to convert was a book on Eucharistic miracles. I wanted to know more about the Eucharist. The other day, I was re-reading it and this one miracle really struck a chord. In the 8th century in Lanciano, Italy, the blessed sacrament actually became a piece of flesh and the wine became real blood. This miracle has been preserved and is still on display today. In the seventies, they ran some tests on the preserved flesh and found that it was from the human heart.

The invitation for Jesus to live in our hearts is not one sided. Just as the three persons in the trinity completely give themselves over to each other, Jesus desires to give Himself to us and hopes we have the same desire to give ourselves to Him. Yes, we should invite Him into our hearts. We should invite Him to reign in our souls, but He is offering us something too. He is offering us His heart. His perfect heart that He sacrificed on the cross. The heart that stopped beating for our sin. The heart that rose from the dead and gained salvation for mankind. He gives us His heart in the Eucharist and He hopes that we will come to the table and meet Him there. And that we will share in His gift, be swept up in His love and allow Him to reign in our souls. In exchange for our hearts, He offers us His.

It is my greatest desire that I live long enough to die to my humanity and allow Jesus to completely reign in my soul. When I prayed that special, simple prayer all those years ago, a process began. The prayer I prayed embraced my justification before the Lord and it started my sanctification. It started the life-long conversion process that is leading me to my God. In order to get me there, Jesus is giving me His heart. He is leading the way. He is holding my hand and sometimes carrying me on the dark and stormy ill traveled road. And when I get to the end of that road and stand before the Father, it is my hope that He will not see me. That my life will have been one where I died to my humanity and allowed Christ to live in me and through me. May the Father see His Son who has dressed me in His salvation and reigned in my soul.

When I Embrace Reconciliation

2010-01-13T21:18:00.000-08:00

"‘As the Father has sent me, even so I send you.’ And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained’" (John 20:21–23)

I admit it. I am addicted to reconciliation. Not in a million years did I think that I would WANT to utilize this sacrament-especially since I have a fear of trusting anyone in ministry. But, now that I have utilized it, I can't seem to get enough of it.

When I was growing up in the Southern Baptist Church, I was taught that the Catholic's practice of reconciliation was not necessary. I was taught that confession directly to almighty God through prayer is all that is needed for forgiveness of sins. Although my Southern Baptist brothers and sisters are correct in that confession directly to God will forgive their sins, they are overlooking a great gift Jesus gives us in reconciliation.

I wasn't sold on the idea of reconciliation when I first became Catholic. I didn't really understand why I should confess my sins to a perfect stranger. To tell you the truth, I never really thought about my sins. As a Southern Baptist, we weren't taught to focus on what we had done wrong, but to try to move on and live right. God has already forgiven us when we invited Jesus to live in our hearts so there was no need to ask for forgiveness unless you did something really wrong. So, when I became Catholic, the whole thing didn't make sense to me. I hadn't murdered anyone, so why did I need to go to confession? It wasn't until I started studying the bible through the eyes of a Catholic that I understood how Jesus established this great sacrament in order to bring us closer to Him.

In his letter, the Apostle James says that we should confess our sins to one another(James 5:16). This was common practice during Jesus' ministry and the early church. As the church developed, what had begun as a public confession of one's sins turned into a confession to a representative of the community- a Priest. The Priest as the confessor makes perfect sense when you read John 20:21-23(above). Jesus intended for the Priest to hear and forgive the sins of the people, just like He heard and forgave the sins of the people who followed Him during his time on earth.

Throughout the gospels, you can see how Christ experienced all of His humanity. He felt all the human emotions. He knows what it feels like to be happy, sad, angry, hurt, or scared because He felt it as a flesh and blood human. Christ knows how important it is for us to face our emotions so that we can live in His love. Jesus understands that humans need to say it out loud with their own voices to other Christians where they have failed. When we do this, we are forced to put our faults it into words which helps us to understand their impact and to work through our emotions. When we acknowledge our failings, we can begin to heal the damage those choices have made and find peace. Jesus knows that our voices need to say it out loud and our words need to be heard by trusted ears so we can grasp that acknowledgement and deal with our emotions. And our ears especially need to hear a human voice say that God loves us and forgives us. Our spirits need to feel Christ lift those burdens from our shoulders. And this is why He gave us the sacrament of reconciliation.

In the few times I have gone, I have had a great experience. The Priest always says something that blows me away. His words have given me confirmation of something God laid on my heart or direction on something I needed to do. Sometimes the words that spilled out of the Priest's mouth are the same exact words a friend said to me or something I read in a book or an article or the bible that didn’t really make a whole lot of sense until that moment. Every time I go and give a voice my failings and ask for forgiveness from God with the Priest, those obstacles that were between me and God are lifted and the communication I have with God is that much clearer. And the Priest is the catalyst of that communication. It’s a really interesting and amazing experience for this simple girl who stumbled upon the Catholic faith.

I wish I can say that I have been to reconciliation many times, but I haven't. I do have trust issues with people in ministry that I am working to heal. Becoming vulnerable to a Priest is still not easy for me. But now that I have been a few times, I find myself examining my conscience more often. Every time I go, I let a little less time pass between visits. I suppose my mind and my heart are feeling the value of the confession while my spirit is anticipating and craving that next close and unique encounter with our Lord. And every time I have the courage to walk through that door and trust the Priest and ask for God's forgiveness, a little more of the wall is torn down which allows a little more of Christ to live in me.

Old and New Faith

2010-01-01T09:37:00.000-08:00

As I enter the New Year, I can't help but reflect upon the past and be hopeful about the future. Lately, my refection has been upon my experience with church. I have thought long and hard about my decision to leave the realm of Protestant life. My humanity questions this decision. Although my family is supportive of my faith, I did severe something when I left my childhood church- the church that raised four generations of God-fearing Protestants, and followed Christ to the Catholic faith. Being that I am right smack in the middle of the Bible belt, I am also surrounded by my Protestant friends who find my path confusing if not troubling. In my weaker moments, when I let my humanity overpower my spirit, I find myself in a lonely place.

I'm not lonely because I left the Protestant faith. I'm sad because my Protestant family and friends do not experience Christ like I do. Because I am a convert, I have done a lot of justifying of my Catholic faith. One reason I believe Christ is in the Eucharist is through John chapter 6. There are many references to the Eucharist throughout the Old Testament and St. Paul also writes about the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist in his many letters. I believe in the authority of the Catholic Church because it was established by Jesus and has endured for 2000 years. I believe in the intersession of Angels and Saints- especially Mary because in his dying breath, Jesus established her as our Mother. She is a beautiful window to Christ. For me, the Catholic faith is a complete package.

But, here is my problem. In all of my justifying, I have become closed minded to other Christian faiths. I have drawn clear boundaries between what is right about the Catholic faith and wrong about other Christian faiths in order to justify my path. In doing so, I have built a wall. I have drawn a line in the sand. I have forced others to choose a side or not play the game. Obviously, this isn't a step towards unity. Christ wants us all to be united under one church. My wall building is not a positive step toward that goal.

I want so much for my Protestant friends to see and experience Christ like I experience Him. I want them to be in a church where scripture makes sense because church doctors and apologetics have been interpreting them for 2000 years. I want them to be in a church where heaven kisses earth every time we gather around the Lord's Table. I want them to experience a mass where the focus isn't on the human delivering the message but the divine coming to humanity. But my wants have built this wall. My past experiences have clouded my ability to reach out to them. My human justification has not allowed Christ to work through me. And although I have worthy desires for my Protestant friends, my humanity is driving them away from the Church.

So, once again, my humanity is getting in the way. I must die to my desires in order to let Christ work in me. I must set aside my justification and allow Christ to use my passion. I have my reasons for embracing the Catholic faith, but I cannot make the people around me share those same reasons. They have to find their own path in order for Christ to light that fire in their hearts. My role is set aside my justification and share the joy Christ has placed in my being. I must let go of the old and embrace the hope in the new.

Our Christmas Tree

2009-12-12T08:21:00.000-08:00

My husband and I are celebrating our 10th year of marriage this month. It is hard to believe it’s been 10 years. When we first got married, 10 years seemed like an eternity away. Now that we are sitting at the 10 year mark and looking back, our wedding feels like it happened yesterday.

The gravity of the years hit me when we were decorating the Christmas tree. Decorating the tree is one of my favorite family events of the Christmas season. The kids have a great time looking at all the ornaments and finding each ornament's perfect spot on the tree. My husband always finds his homemade childhood ornaments and puts them on the very front and while he is not looking, I sneak them to the very back. I enjoy putting the first ornaments we got as a couple on the tree. It is a set of 12 German ornaments that German Christians say no tree should be without. To us, the ornaments aren't just decorations. Each one has a special meaning.

When we first got married, we didn't have a lot of meaningful ornaments. So, I went out and bought some decorative ornaments that held little significance so our tree would not look so bare. As we were unpacking the ornaments this year, I noticed that many of those ornaments are gone and replaced with ornaments we have collected over the years. Now most of our ornaments represent a special memory. Each one is a frozen moment in our history. They are a wonderful trip down memory lane telling the story of who we are.

As I thought about our ornaments on the Christmas tree, I realized what a beautiful symbol it has become. The Christmas tree is a symbol of Christ's gift of himself to us. Its unchanging evergreen nature represents eternal life. It is a symbol of the new tree of life we have through baptism. What a beautiful thing it is to see our history on the tree of eternal life; to see our moments hanging on the branches of Christ's love; to see Christ touching and sharing each memory with us. And as we put our ornaments on the tree, we give Him our moments. We trust Him with our lives. We live for His promise of eternal life. And with His love intertwined in our past and holding onto our future, we give Him ourselves for His greater glory.

My New Shoes

2009-11-23T19:44:00.000-08:00

I bought some new shoes recently. I haven't bought new shoes in a long while. Since becoming a stay-at-home Mom, what did I need with new shoes? Well, my old running shoes were looking pretty shabby. And somewhat falling apart. Let me just say that it has been several years since I had to give up a pair of running shoes because they were looking shabby. Usually, I had to give up a pair of running shoes because I ran in them and wore them out. Nowadays, there ain't much running in my running shoes unless I am chasing a child.

Anyhow, I bought the new shoes. I admit that I went for the sale and for looks instead of function. They felt alright in the store so I brought them home. And when I put them on the next morning, I was immediately uncomfortable in them. They didn't feel good. They held my feet with an unnaturally tight grip. They were hard to get on and off and the laces seemed too short. Since I loathe returning things more than actually shopping for them, I decided to wear them for the day. Maybe I could break them in.

So, reluctantly, I wore them. And all day I found myself dreaming of my old shoes. My old shoes were lighter. They were roomier. They conformed to my feet perfectly. The laces were easier to tie. They were everything I wanted and needed in a shoe. The new shoes just didn't live up to the old ones. The next day, I decided to put the old shoes back on. I wanted the familiar comfort on my feet. I wanted my feet to feel normal. So, I got the old shoes out of the closet and put them on. And things were different. They didn't feel as secure as I remembered them. They didn't support my foot like I thought they did. They felt worn out. They felt uncomfortable. So here I was stuck between my old shoes and my new shoes. Did I want to live with the worn out, unsecure old shoes, or did I want to take the time and energy to break in my new shoes? As I debated with my shoes, I realized that this dilemma is not new. It is an old and familiar situation I have faced in my faith life.

God has given me new shoes. When I chose to travel with him, I needed new shoes. My journey with the Lord required secure and supportive shoes which my old shoes could not provide. Of course, my new shoes were not comfortable at first. I longed for the old, familiar shoes. The shoes that fit my old life. The shoes that I traveled in for so long. But those shoes were worn. They were not worthy of my new journey. So, I put on the new shoes. I let my feet break them in. I savored the security and support they provided. And I trusted that God knew exactly what kind of shoes I needed in order to travel on His road. As I traveled in my unfamiliar shoes, I was reminded that if Christ can suffer and die for me, then the least I can do is break in some new shoes for Him. And as time wore on, the unfamiliar became familiar. They became more comfortable with each step I took. They provided for me in more ways than my old shoes ever could. And the journey God has taken me on with my new shoes has been amazing. It hasn't been easy, but amazing. And on this journey, I have learned an important lesson. When my shoes pinch, or hurt, or wear a blister on my tender feet, I should not worry because He will be there to carry me.

The Bond of Prayer

2009-11-15T20:23:00.000-08:00

This week in clusters, we taught our kids about prayer. And while I was preparing for the lessons, I realized how passionate I have become about prayer. I was so excited to show the kids the wonderful world of prayer. I wanted their spirits to experience the wonder and adventure God has in store for them. I wanted them to open their hearts and ears to feel and hear the Holy Spirit. I wanted God to be that much more real to them today.

Prayer is a powerful thing. It’s the Holy Spirit in action. And it’s not something that happens just when you close your eyes and utter some words. It’s an ongoing event in our daily lives. God is always there touching us with his creation. He craves the communication with us like we crave love from a parent. He whispers to us through a touch in a cool breeze. He speaks to us through the voice of a child. He looks at us through the expression of a friend. God reveals himself to us so often and so absolutely. The more we become aware of His presence, the more He is able to fill us with His spirit and speak to our hearts.

My weekly CRHP meetings have come to an end. And the big thing I miss is our prayer time. I have only known these women seven months. And we all come from different walks of life. We are all in different places in our journeys with the Lord. We all face different challenges and have different outlooks on this world. And even though we are so different, we share an unbreakable bond. We share a love none of us expected to find in one another. And I believe we have formed this bond through prayer. We shared our struggles with one another and then gave them to God in prayer. We shared our joys with one another and then rejoiced with God in prayer. We held hands, laughed, cried, danced and sang all the while in prayer. And, as we called upon Him, God poured out his love through us and into the hearts of one another creating a bond that will withstand the test of a lifetime. O, how I love to call upon the sacred heart of Jesus with my beautiful sisters.
It is my hope that my children will experience this wonderful adventure of prayer. I pray that they will hear God whisper to them in a warm breeze and that He will touch their hearts through the voice of a child. It is my prayer that they will see God's face in the expression of a friend. It is my hope that they will hold hands, laugh, cry, sing and dance while calling upon God with their brothers and sisters in Christ. And I pray that God will become that much more real to them with each day of their lives here in His beautiful creation.

Prayer- Then and Now

2009-10-29T19:00:00.000-07:00

As a Southern Baptist kid, I learned to pray by just talking to God. We practiced the art of conversational prayer. So, that is the way I like to pray as an adult. Conversational prayer is only one of the ways Catholics engage in prayer. Some Catholics are comfortable with conversational prayer, and others prefer to use the rich collection of prayers that has developed over the last 2000 years- with the very first being the one Jesus himself taught us- The Our Father. This rich collection of prayers is fascinating to me. I love to see how others talk to God. By studying these prayers, I have gained a better understanding of how to pray and how to listen. I feel like I know my God better. These words shared by other Christians give me insight and allow God to speak to me in ways I didn't know how to ask. I can't soak up enough of these prayers.

One prayer that has had an impact on me lately is the rosary. Before I became Catholic, Gerry and I used to go to adoration for an hour in the middle of the night on Sundays. And I always prayed the rosary. Because I was so new at this whole Catholic thing, I didn't really get it. I said the words and I meant them, but I didn't feel like I was communicating well with God. After the rosary, I always fell back on my conversational prayer. Then, after a while, I didn't pray the rosary as often.

Lately, I have been drawn back to the rosary. And all of a sudden, it is such a powerful way for me to pray. I am not sure what has changed, but I am blown away by the communication I have with God during the rosary. I have been especially drawn to the sorrowful mysteries. Every time I pray through the sorrowful mysteries, I gain a deeper understanding of His passion. I see a new glimpse of the love He has for me. While in prayer, my mind will start to wander to something I need to do or fix or someone I need to talk to or pray for. Thoughts will pop into my head that either have meaning at that moment or meaning I discover at a later time. And there have been moments when I think I hear Jesus talking to me. My humanity would like to label those moments as crazy but my spirit wants to label them as real. My most vivid experiences with the rosary have been in front of the Blessed Sacrament. I am really looking forward to the end of football season so I can go to first Friday adoration, pray the rosary and listen for Jesus to whisper in my ear.

How to Pray the Rosary

Thought of the Day

2009-10-27T14:44:00.001-07:00

Under the influence of fear, we bear the cross of Christ with patience. Under the more inspiring influence of hope, we carry the cross with a firm and valiant heart. But under the consuming power of love, we embrace the cross with ardor.

~St. Bernard of Clairvaux

Drama and my Kids

2009-09-25T22:00:00.000-07:00

I realized the other day that I have never wrote this story down. Although I have alluded to it in several blogs, I don't have the whole story all in one place. And I think that you would enjoy it. I have told it many times at parties. It’s my funny icebreaker story- but to the right people who enjoy a little TMI about a stranger. And not all of it is funny. It has its scary moments which are resolved by God's miracles. So far, there is a happy ending.

It's the story of how my children came into this world. Let me start with a little background. I am a planner. I am a controller. I am a perfectionist. I like to be in control of my perfect plans. At the tender age barely 21, I had a perfect plan for my life. Of course, I was going to do everything in the correct perfect order: graduate from college, get married, and THEN have kids. And my soon-to-be husband and I were practicing Catholics. We practiced abstinence. Except for once. Yep. Just one time we didn't. We slipped. We didn't plan it- it just sort of happened. We were already engaged and less than a year away from our wedding when we succumbed to our weak moment. And you'll never guess what our one weak moment resulted in. Yep, little Gerry was on the way. His due date was our wedding date. God has a sense of humor.

Well, my perfectionist planning self didn't think it was so funny. This little monkey wrench was really messing up my perfect plans that I thought I had control over. This surprise was the beginning of my life long lesson in how I am not in control of my life. So we cried. We sought counsel. We went to the priest who heard our confession, agreed to marry us anyway and moved our wedding date up. In fact, everything kind of fell into place for the wedding. The church was available, the rehearsal hall was available and everyone necessary to throw a grand New Orleans wedding was available. I would have the wedding of my dreams after all. I didn't even start to look pregnant until the week after the wedding.

Also, amazingly enough, I got through my senior recital and my student teaching while planning a wedding and pregnant at the same time. God must have given me supernatural strength. At any rate, the time was approaching for little Gerry to be born. My mother was late with both of us kids. I didn't really have any other family history to base my pregnancy on so I just assumed I would be late too. Three weeks before my due date, I went to the doctor who announced I was 1 cm dilated. Not a big deal but I should stop working and stay off my feet. So, naturally, I decided that evening to go out to dinner and then to Wal-Mart so we could stock up on all the baby stuff. I ate a roast beef po-boy from In and Out and then I didn't feel very well. The po-boy was the mistake, obviously. We went to Wal-Mart and I walked all over the baby section with Gerry and we got all the stuff we needed. And all the while, that po-boy was talking back to me. When we got home, I convinced Gerry to put the crib together so I could take my time getting the room ready (his room was actually our dining nook in our tiny one bedroom apartment). While he was doing this, I gladly went to bed to sleep off this mistake of a dinner.

At about 3:00 in the morning, I woke up and I still didn't feel well. I went to the bathroom and that didn't help. I started to wonder if I was having contractions and I even woke up Gerry so he could time the indigestion. He wasn't very happy with me. We timed it and it was not even close to regular so he convinced me that I was crazy and that I should never eat another roast beef po-boy from In and Out and that he should go back to sleep. And then he rolled over and went back to sleep. At 5:00, I got up to go to the bathroom again. As soon as I stepped into the bathroom, my water broke. Of course, I went to wake up Gerry again. He insisted on a thorough investigation to see if what I was telling him was true. It took him a minute to really wake up and fully appreciate my frantic nature and assess the situation. Once I was sure he was convinced that I was in labor, I decided that I should pack my nice hospital bag. I could be in labor forever, right? At least that is what everyone told me. I heard all kinds of horror stories about how the baby would refuse to be born and the story teller would describe these 15 and 20 hour labors with the ending being a c-section or sucking the baby out with a vacuum. So, since I was in minute 5 of my labor, I naturally assumed we had plenty of time. So I slowly got dressed and started packing my perfect bag for the hospital. While I did this, my husband, who was now fully awake and convinced that we were having this baby, was calling the doctor in a panic because that's what Millers do. During his phone call, the real labor began. I was doubled over in pain. Through my gritted teeth, I was yelling at my panic-stricken husband to tell the doctor I was going to the hospital NOW. And when the pain subsided the least bit, I began throwing my clothes for the hospital in the nearest thing I could find- a laundry basket. Gerry had me ushered out the door and into the car 30 seconds later with our haphazardly packed laundry basket in the back seat. Yes, we were the Slidell hillbillies going to the hospital in Metairie.

Normally, it's about a 35 minute drive from Slidell to Lakeside Hospital in Metairie. With my coaching (which was me screaming for him to go faster or the baby was going to be born in the car), we made it to the hospital in 20 minutes flat. To this day, Gerry won't tell me how fast he drove. In my memory, it seemed to take forever for us to get to the hospital room. I kept asking the take-in nurse to go quickly. I kept asking for the epidural man all while clutching my poor sad little laundry basket. I remember asking the security guard for the epidural man. I wanted the epidural man so badly. My poor husband was absolutely terrified by my behavior and promised me he would find me the epidural man. We asked the nurses on the L&D floor as they got me out of the elevator for the epidural man. After they examined me, they found the epidural man pronto. When he walked in, it was obvious that he had been sleeping. At least I still hope that is what explained his appearance. He wasn't very happy to see me but I was so happy to see him that I instantly forgave him. He kept asking me to be still. And I kept trying but I was having labor pains so badly that I could barely see straight. And then after what seemed like forever, he was successful. I was numb from the waist down. He was my hero. After that, I felt a lot better so we decided to call people. First, we called Gerry's parents. Gerry was coming unglued to say the least so I thought I would let him hear some parental words of encouragement first. Talking to them helped his mood but I think it also gave him something more to worry about. They wanted to get from Orlando to New Orleans in time for the baby and his poor mother was going crazy trying to figure out what to do. On top of the fact that his father had tickets to the Bay Hill PGA Golf Tournament that weekend and he was going to have to miss it. Then we called my parents. They decided to start driving. They were 8 hours away so they thought there was a chance they would make it. Then we called Nanee who lived only 5 minutes from the hospital. She said, "Oh, sh**," and then said she would be there in her blue suit asap. She wanted a girl badly so she was still holding a grudge that we decided to have a boy. After the phone calls, the nurse came back in and checked me. Then, she checked me again. And then she got another nurse to come take a look. Then they decided that I was fully dilated. It had only been an hour since we had arrived. So they contacted the doctor who said he was on his way. And we all waited anxiously for the doctor. The nurses kept coming back and checking me and calling the doctor who was always on his way. Finally, he arrived to the great relief of the nursing staff. I now know that they feared they were going to have to deliver the baby with no doctor. At the time, I was so relieved to be numb from the waist down, that I didn't pick up on the fact they were worried. As soon as the doctor arrived, they wheeled me into the labor room and Little Gerry was out in one push. From the time my water broke to delivery was about three hours. Everyone was shocked. Gerry's parents, who hadn't even left the house yet were quite disappointed they missed it. Nanee was the only other family member there for the blessed event. After the delivery, we took our sad little laundry basket and moved to the recovery wing. Visitors came and went. Little Gerry was a delight to everyone he met. It was absolutely the happiest moment of our coon-ass-hillbilly lives.

So now we are going to fast forward 7 years. We are living in Dallas. Please take note of where we are living- Dallas. Mckinney-to be exact. We decide that it is time for Little Gerry to have a sibling. Then one week later, I discover that I am six weeks pregnant. So, we can kind of say that this one was planned. Can't we? I like to think he was planned. Let me have that much. I would also like to think that I am a little more prepared for what is going to happen. I happily explained to my first OB doctor that I delivered my first child in three hours with an epidural(epidural slows labor down). She agreed that I was high risk for rapid labor and we would put together a plan to deal with it. And then, due to the insurance company that seems to think they are more qualified than doctors to make decisions about my healthcare, I had to change OB doctors. I retold my story to the new doctor who assured me that rapid labor was no big deal and we would have a plan in place. I felt better. Two doctors had told me not to worry. I was also in better shape health wise than I was with little Gerry. In the seven years since little Gerry's hurried arrival, I had become a runner. I even ran regularly up until the time I started to spot early in the pregnancy and the doctors told me to stop running.

So, at week 32, I go to San Antonio on an airplane. Now 32 weeks is usually the cutoff date for out of town travel. I was fully aware of this. I asked all four of the doctors in the OB practice if I should go on this trip. They all said yes. They said, "Go and enjoy your weekend with your husband sans children. It will be your last for a while. All will be fine." So we went. We woke up at 4:00 a.m. to catch the flight from Dallas to San Antonio. So, naturally I was tired. I had to walk all over the airports to get to our destination which made me more tired. I started having more frequent Braxton-hicks contractions and I knew it was because I was tired. So when we got to the hotel, I took a nap. Gerry got me up in time to go to the fancy dinner sponsored by a company he did some work with. And I happily went. I walked from our hotel to the restaurant on the river walk. The wine was flowing! I kid you not, they poured at least 7 glasses of different kinds of wine. I had just a taste of each one. I LOVE wine. I am a teacher. When was I ever going to be able to drink expensive wine? So, I had to taste. About half way through dinner, I started having those pesky Braxton-hicks contractions except, now I had pressure. I was a little concerned about it. I kept hoping they would stop. When they didn't, I told Gerry that I wasn't feeling so well and that I needed to leave. So we left. I felt bad crashing the little party but I wanted to lie down. We started walking and the contractions started to get a little painful. I started to worry. And so did Gerry since I had to stop every five minutes or so for a contraction to pass. When we got back to the hotel room, we called the doctor. She told me to lie down for thirty minutes and see if that helped. If it wasn't better, then I should go to the nearest hospital with a labor and delivery unit and have them check everything. I waited 10 minutes and then told Gerry to call a cab. When we got into the cab, we asked the cabbie where the nearest hospital was with labor and delivery. He gave us a swift and free ride to Christus Santa Rosa in downtown San Antonio.

When we arrived, it seemed like forever to get me checked in. Really, in the last 7 years, you would think they would have the process more streamlined. At any rate, by the time I was actually on the gurney in the hospital room, I was already using colorful vocabulary to describe the extent of the labor pains to the nursing staff. They checked me and decided I was 2 cm dilated which meant they could stop the labor. They ordered the appropriate drugs which seemed to take forever to arrive. All the while, my vocabulary deteriorated. I was defiantly not a good catholic witness at the moment. When the drugs finally arrived, they asked Gerry to leave so they could start an IV. I was required to sit still while they inserted the IV which was no easy feat. After the nurse got the IV inserted and turned on, I announced that I had to push. She panicked. She turned the IV off and quickly checked me and decided that I was going to deliver. She yelled at me to cross my legs and ran to the door and started yelling "She going to deliver!" In her brief absence, I disobeyed and pushed. Crossing my legs did not quell the need for me to push. My water broke. No less than 10 people ran into the room with all kinds of beeping equipment. It was like a scene from ER. One of the nurses was going to try to get my gurney ready for delivery when I grabbed my ankles and announced I was pushing again. At this moment, a very young and barely awake resident ran into the room just in time to catch little Ben. Poor Gerry ran in right behind him and almost missed the whole event.

As soon as Ben arrived, he screamed and then I knew that he would be alright. If he had not screamed, I would have come off the gurney in an effort to save him. His scream was one of the best sounds I have ever known. At 32 weeks, he was amazingly developed. He weighed 4lb 11oz which was big for a 32 week old baby. He was breathing on his own. It was a miracle. He spent 9 days in the NICU and 2 days in the special care nursery simply because he was a little too young to eat well. They sent him home a few days earlier than they would have normally because they knew we wanted to get back to McKinney so badly. He had a feeding tube at home for the first week and a half and then every day after that, he was a normal, healthy baby.
So, as you can see, there was much drama surrounding the birth of each child. And it was all the more dramatic since no one anticipated the drama. Through these wonderful, tense, and sometimes humorous events, I have learned to let go. I am not in control. I do not know the plan. I can only have the faith that the one who loves me more than I deserve will take care of me and the ones I love. These events have tested every ounce of my faith. In the wake of the first test, I didn’t always find comfort in my God. I wanted to hold onto my control. I wanted to salvage my perfect plan for my life. After the second test, I couldn’t help but turn to my God. He gave me a miracle. Ben is here by the grace of God. As I look back, the lesson I learned is that these wonderful children are not mine. They are here by God’s will. It is my job to raise them so that they find His love and His will for their lives. It’s a tall order and I ask you to pray that Gerry and I will get it right.

Revelation

2009-09-11T17:16:00.000-07:00

Revelation 22:6-21 (New American Standard Bible)

6And he said to me, "These words are faithful and true"; and the Lord, the God of the spirits of the prophets, sent His angel to show to His bond-servants the things which must soon take place.
7"And behold, I am coming quickly Blessed is he who heeds the words of the prophecy of this book."
8I, John, am the one who heard and saw these things And when I heard and saw, I fell down to worship at the feet of the angel who showed me these things.
9But he said to me, "Do not do that I am a fellow servant of yours and of your brethren the prophets and of those who heed the words of this book. Worship God."
The Final Message 10And he said to me, "Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this book, for the time is near.
11"Let the one who does wrong, still do wrong; and the one who is filthy, still be filthy; and let the one who is righteous, still practice righteousness; and the one who is holy, still keep himself holy."
12"Behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to render to every man according to what he has done.
13"I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end."
14Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they may have the right to the tree of life, and may enter by the gates into the city.
15Outside are the dogs and the sorcerers and the immoral persons and the murderers and the idolaters, and everyone who loves and practices lying.
16"I, Jesus, have sent My angel to testify to you these things for the churches I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star."
17The Spirit and the bride say, "Come " And let the one who hears say, "Come " And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes take the water of life without cost.
18I testify to everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to him the plagues which are written in this book;
19and if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away his part from the tree of life and from the holy city, which are written in this book.
20He who testifies to these things says, "Yes, I am coming quickly " Amen Come, Lord Jesus.
21The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.

God's Word in the Book of Revelation has had a pivotal influence in my life. It is a confusing book for the lay reader. It is full of imagery and symbolism which proves difficult to understand without formal historical and theological training of which I have neither. It can be dangerous to interpret without instruction. On the other hand, it is so wonderfully written. It describes a grand event that leaves me awestruck. Oh, how I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when that angel visited the Apostle John.

The misinterpretation of the book of Revelation was the straw that broke the camel's back in my journey with the Baptist church. I was a Junior in high school and we were studying Revelation in youth group. Our youth pastor was actually naming modern day churches for the seven churches. Surprisingly enough, the Baptists were not on the list while the Catholics were at the top of his list and that seemed really fishy to me. How could a religion that has only been around for 100 years or so trump the religion that has been around for 2000 years? Why did the Catholics make his list and yet the Baptists get a reprieve? Aren't we all just sinners in the sight of God? I asked these questions. And many, many, many other questions. I wanted to see the logic behind his conclusions. And when I was finished with my questions, the youth pastor was finished with me. Things were never the same after that. I think in part it was because I could find no logic or theology to support his ideas and he knew it. I had debated him into a corner. My drift from the Baptist church began at that time. It would be another year before I felt the call to leave. And then another year before God led me to the the Catholic faith.

This past year, I had the pleasure of participating a bible study at my church on the Book of Revelation. The whole experience was a big God moment for me. A lot of it finally made sense and I had yet another confirmation(out of about a million so far) that the Catholic faith is where God wants me to be.

So why am I sharing all this on my blog? Well, I have been privy to some "revelations" conversations lately. Some of my Protestant brothers and sisters have been making references to the Book of Revelation when trying to describe recent current events. I have even heard some say that Obama is the anti-Christ. And all of this talk makes me crazy because they have missed the point! So bear with me while I add my two cents.

The big main idea I got from Revelation is that we will be judged. We will all be judged based on our works- holy, evil and in between. And we will face consequences- either good or bad. And only the individual knows his/her heart. God will know what category we all belong in based on our works (which is why the once saved, always saved theology has some holes). We must live holy lives, offering each day to the Lord, loving our neighbor as ourselves and dying to our humanity so Christ can live in us and through us. The book of Revelation is a description of what will happen to the evil ones and to the holy ones. It is a plea for Christians to be holy so that we may share in God's kingdom. I chose to include the final Epilogue from Revelation in this blog because it really does sum up what were are supposed to do after receiving this prophesy. We are to be holy and live our lives as if each day on earth was our last. And give our lives over to God's work and all our joys will lie in his kingdom. We are not to add to God's Word or take anything away from God's Word. And foremost, we are to worship God.

So, I challenge all my brothers and sisters in Christ, Protestant and Catholic alike to look at your life- not at today's current events. Jesus will come like a thief in the night (1 Thessalonians 5:2). Our focus should not be on predicting when he will come- that is not the point of Revelation. It should be on living a holy life, loving others and dying to our humanity. I am just hoping my lifetime will be long enough to reach that goal so I can spend eternity with the Man-God whom I have fallen in love with; who loved me despite myself and then taught me how to love.

Friends

2009-08-29T20:25:00.000-07:00

Something came out of my mouth recently that I know I didn't come up with on my own. I said, "I have friends that I talk to and then I have friends that I am there for." After it was spoken, I started to think. I have way more friends that I am there for than I talk to. I would say that I have one friend that I talk to and the rest that I am there for. And I wish it could be different. But I know that I would have to change for that to take place and I haven't a clue where to start.

Being that I am a Navy brat, I think that I have learned that people are not going to be there for me. I went to 9 different schools over 12 years. I have a lot of friends all over the country and not many that I would call and talk to about my life. It's not because I wouldn't like to share with them. We are just not close anymore. They left my life and we all moved on. And now that I am in one place, I am not sure how to do this friend thing. I seem to hold everyone at a distance- waiting for them to leave. I am there for them to talk to or ask a favor of, but beyond that, there isn't much else to hope for. I know that I don't like to make myself vulnerable or to rely on others and I am sure this is a big stumbling block to building friendships. I have recently become aware that if I decline someones offer of help, then I am robbing them of the joy of giving. So, I am trying to be accepting of offered help. But it is hard. I just don't know how else to be but I do know that I would like the joy of friendship in my life so I guess I have to be different. Or become a nun. But Gerry wouldn't like that so much, I think. I'm not quite sure why I am blogging about this but so I am so here it is.

Our Storms

2009-08-14T20:18:00.000-07:00

Today, at my house, the A/C broke. The air handler was working, but blowing hot air. Upon further investigation, I discovered the lifeless condenser outside and almost started to cry. Just two weeks ago, we spent $600 fixing the air handler and today my husband finally got the A/C fixed in my car which was another $600. And now the condenser wasn't working. I immediately started praying. Several of my friends have had to replace their whole units. We just can't afford to do that right now. So I prayed. When the A/C man told us that we didn't have to replace the unit- only the motor and capacitor, I immediately thanked God. It will only cost about $600. I am happy that it isn't more than $600 but I am watching my meager saving account dry up and wondering how I am going to replace the money. When it rains, it pours. That seems to be the motto my husband and I live by.

So, why does it have to pour so hard in our life? Why does a God fearing couple, who has devoted their lives to shaping kids for tomorrow's world, have to be living in this financial storm that doesn't ever seem to end? As I am pondering all this, I am reminded of all the things I should be thankful for. We are all healthy. Gerry has a job. We have family and friends who love us. We have wonderful children. We live in a great country where we enjoy freedom. Yes, there is much to be thankful for. But sometimes it is so hard to see that when the visibility in the storm is zero.

Why do we have to keep suffering like this? What is the purpose of living in this never ending storm? I am reminded of the story of Jesus sleeping in the boat while the storm raged around him. And the disciples were terrified and woke him and asked him to do something about it. His reaction is what I have always been perplexed about. He was annoyed with them. He wanted to know why they had such little faith. Well, they did have faith. They had faith that he could do something about it. And he did do something about it. He calmed the storm. So, what did he mean when he said they had little faith?

We only have this one life. We only have this one chance to find true happiness. What would this life be without the storms? Would we wilt? Would we thirst for something more meaningful? The Father is our creator. He knows the beginning, the end and all the stuff in between of each and every one of us. Our lives are designed to find Him and thus find true love and happiness. So how do the storms fit in? The storms shape us into who we are to be. The storms are our opportunity to turn to God and have the faith that He is in control. And at the end of the storm, we will be a little more like the person He plans for us to become. It's our chance to find out what is really important in this life.

So, how do I handle the storm? Should I be asking Him to calm the storm? Or should I dare to walk out on the water with my eyes totally focused on him? One thing has occurred to me. If I don't experience the storm, then how am I supposed to witness the miracles? If there is nothing in my life that requires me to depend on God, then how am I suppose to have that miraculous encounter? So, on that point, I should welcome the storms. I should dance with God in the rain. I should step out of the safety of the boat and walk on the water with my eyes totally focused on the one who loves me more than I imagine. The storms keep me from wilting. They grow my faith. They help me set my priorities and they wash away the dust of this world so I can see God's light and love more clearly. If I stop worrying about the storm, then maybe I can enjoy my dance with Jesus out on the water.

Praying and Dancing

2009-08-04T20:51:00.001-07:00

In CRHP tonight, we discussed prayer. We shared about prayer and about how we were touched by prayer in key moments in our lives. The one question that really stuck out to me was, "When has God really touched you through prayer?" I don't think it was quite worded that way in the meeting, but the responses that ensued definitely begged this question. As we shared, my mind wandered to one defining moment in my walk with God. It was one of those moments where you wish you could make it last forever. It was magical. It is a moment I will cherish for the rest of my days.

After college was over and we went through the trauma of having a baby just three months after we were married, I was not walking closely with God. Before these moments, I did. Afterwards, not so much. I was angry. I worked so hard in college (3 jobs plus 20 plus hours of course work each semester) and it wasn't fair that I got pregnant right at the end of it all and I had to rearrange all the wedding plans while I was student teaching and pregnant to top it all off. Oh, and I was giving my senior recital at the same time. It was STRESSFUL and I didn't respond well to the pressure. I was 22 and I had everything already planned in my life and I was mad that it was not going according to plan. And it all got blamed on God. I was not a happy camper. And when I am mad at someone, I quit talking to that person. And that is what I did with God. I tried to take full control of my life since he was making such a mess of it. I no longer trusted that he knew what to do. What my older and wiser self knows now is that I was to proud to see that my own sin is how I got into the mess. Anyhow, the point is I quit talking. And I thought I took control of my life.

Well, what I learned was that I can never really have full control over my life. I kept learning that lesson over and over as the years passed. And I finally came to a point when I was so unhappy that something had to be different. There was an imbalance that I had to fix. And, deep down, I knew exactly what it was. God was waiting for me to soften. His patience is extraordinary while he was waiting for me to come to the end of my rope.

In my search for something at the end of my rope, I decided to go to a lecture at my church. I wish I can remember the name of the man who was speaking, but it escapes me. He was a great speaker and I was hoping to take something away from his words. It was the very last thing he said that struck my heart. As soon as he said it, I could feel what was missing. The ice melted and I knew what I yearned for at that moment. He began by telling us this story of himself in high school. He was at a dance and he wanted to ask a girl he admired to dance with him, but he was too shy. In the end, she asked him to dance. He spoke of how excited he was to dance with her- how much it meant to him that she asked him to dance with her. He felt honored and loved and ecstatic all at the same time. And then, before he walked off the stage, he said, "And that is what Jesus is asking you tonight. Will you dance with him?"

As soon as I got home that night, I got on my knees and admitted my fault. The moment I uttered my apology, the vision began. All of a sudden, I was in Christ's arms looking up in his face and we were twirling around the dance floor. I could feel the love and joy coming from his being. The happiness on his face was amazing. And when I would begin to apologize again, he would stop me and say, "Don't worry, you are forgiven. I am so happy to dance with you." And we danced and we danced and we danced. He held me, and loved me, and danced with me. I fell asleep dancing with him that night. It was incredible. The memory in my mind is so vivid. It's like it happened yesterday. What a wonderful night it was, indeed.

This may all sound a little crazy. But I will take being a little crazy over being hopelessly lost and unhappy any day. And, oh how I love to dance.

Potty Training Miller Boys 101 and 102

2009-08-01T08:38:00.000-07:00

I can defiantly say that the difference in potty training my boys has been striking. Gerry was the grandpa- stuck in his diaper wearing ways and refusing to change. While as, Ben is the dictator- taking absolute control of all substances leaving his body and wielding power from all those around him.

Gerry was nearly 3 and 1/2 before he potty trained. Up until that point, he outright refused to sit on the potty. He would scream and cry at the idea of not wearing a diaper. All the books say "don't force them" and "make it a positive experience." Apparently, they never met Gerry Miller. I don't know why using the potty was such a frightening event for him which made it all the more frustrating. We finally took the boot camp approach. We refused to put a diaper on him and played with him in the bathroom all morning while his potty awaited him. He held it from the moment he woke up (with a dry diaper)until around 10:30 a.m. Then, he finally made pee-pee on the potty while screaming in terror. Afterwards, we had a major celebration which must have had an impression because he totally changed his attitude and used the potty like a professional from that moment on. We skipped pull-ups and went straight to underwear.

And then there is Ben. Ben is my little dictator. He likes to tell me when I will eat, where I will sit, which toys I will play with etcetera, etcetera. In the beginning, Comrade Ben enjoyed the idea of using the potty. He would go all day with out an accident in the first week or so. Then, the novelty of the potty wore off. The dictator decided that it was old hat and he wasn't going to do it anymore-especially when Mommy suggested it. So we went back to diapers for a time. Then, I decided not to put any pants on him. He really liked this idea. He could use the potty without any help. And he did for a while- until that got old too and he was back to asking for a diaper or peeing on the floor. So, I broke out the training pants. Well, he didn't like that they got wet so he would very reluctantly use the potty. He would wait until the absolute last second- when the potty dance was no longer effective in delaying the inevitable. And then he would still insist that he didn't need to go. Of course, he would wet his pants just a little bit. And then he would make sure that I had given up waiting on him and went to do something else that wasn't paying attention to Ben. Only after this would he announce he had to "go potty, QUICK!" So, being the dutiful subject, I would halt all activities and run Ben to the potty and be amazed at the amount of pee that can come out of a two-year old bladder. This little routine has been going on now for a month or so. I have been trying to think up little ways to derail his game without hurting the potty progress, but all of my tricks have not really worked. He enjoys watching me drop everything I am doing to run him to the bathroom and if I ask him if he needs to go before his announcement, the answer is always "NO!" despite the yellow eyes and dancing feet. It has to be his idea and it has to interrupt what ever I am doing.

His power wielding game also works nicely when we leave the house. Except he doesn't wait until the last second. He is curious to see what other bathrooms look like. He wants to see how other toilets work and how other sinks work. Who knew that there were bathrooms all over town! Its been a fun discovery for him and every time we go out, he can produce at least 3-4 drops in the potty in order to justify a visit the new and interesting bathroom. I have considered traveling for the next 6 months or so in order to speed this process along, but then I figured the discovery of a new bathroom will also be old hat soon.

I have been a little frustrated at this potty training experience. Everyone told me that Ben is so smart- he would train early and it would be easy. They were right about the smart part- he showed all the signs for potty training readiness at 27 months or so. But he has decided that he is too smart for potty training. It's too easy and boring and it doesn't interest him- unless he can get some entertainment out of it by wielding power from atop his potty.

Rich Soil

2009-07-24T07:43:00.000-07:00

Matthew 13:18-23

I long to have rich soil. I long to live undoubtedly rooted in the will of God. I long to hear His voice. I long to believe with an unshakable faith. I long to serve Him as he would see fit. I long to share the joy he has placed in my being. Oh, how I long. Lord, call me to your presence and change my heart.

Time to Share

2009-07-21T21:06:00.000-07:00

Sharing is hard. It doesn't come easy when we are little. Letting others play with our toys and star in our make believe games is something we are forced to do by Mom. It’s not easy at first. When you share, you have to let go of control. Your toy is in someone else's care. Your make believe story has a new star. And it is hard to watch the new unexpected path your toy or story will take while in the care of this person you have reluctantly trusted. It's not easy to share. Only when we see beyond our sadness and into the happiness that our toy or game has brought to another that we begin to understand the value of sharing.

As an adult, I still struggle with sharing. But it isn’t my toys, or my stories, or my time that I want to keep to myself. It’s my heart. I don’t want to let go of what is inside of it. I don’t want to let others poke around in there. I don’t want to be vulnerable. I like to keep everyone a safe distance away so nobody gets hurt. If it were up to me, I could probably live like that the rest of my life. It would be a safe life. But that is probably all it would be- just safe.

The problem with my heart is that I do share it. I share it with my God. And trusting Him with it has become easier and easier and I travel along my faith journey. I am happy to have Him poke around in there and even make Himself comfortable. God has been a constant rock in my life and I am certain that He won’t do anything bad to my heart. He my change it or mold it but all the while He is holding my hand and I know He loves my heart more than I can imagine.

So, why is this a problem? Why can’t I go on to live a happy, safe life alone with my God? Well, it doesn’t work. I tried it. I was miserable. God has not called us to be loaners. He wants us to be part of a community. This was apparent when he created Eve for Adam. God wants us to share our hearts with one another. He wants us to see the beauty of love in each other and share our joy.

As a child, when you share a toy, there are risks involved. It could get broken. It could get lost. It could be stolen. It may not be returned to you in the same condition in which you shared it. These are all the same risks we face when we share our hearts with one another. We could be hurt. We could be changed. We could be lead down a path we did not want to take. We may not be the same after we have shared. So what is the payoff? What is all this hype about sharing our hearts? It could just be the joy of seeing God change someone else’s heart.

Government Abortion Funding

2009-07-20T19:35:00.001-07:00

Please contact your local congressmen regarding abortion funding in the health care reform bill. You can use this link to voice your opinion. Freedom 2 Care website

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Commitment

2009-06-23T20:31:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like you are being pulled in a million directions? I do. Man, do I ever. I am a wife, a mother, and a caregiver for other people's precious little angels just to name a few. The time that my husband's job demands requires me to be on call for our family 24/7 it seems. Finding time for myself is out of the question. So how am I suppose to find time for my God? Or time for my family? Or time for the commitments he has laid before me at the church I have been called to? Or time for the friends he has placed in my path? It's all a big balancing act, or is it?

This Sunday, the gospel reading was about the story of Jesus calming the storm while He and the disciples traveled in the boat on the sea of Galilee. The disciples were afraid of the storm and they were astounded that Jesus was sleeping through the whole frightening event. They woke him and asked him what should they do. Jesus was frustrated with them for having little faith and he immediately calmed the storm to lessen their fears.

That got me thinking about all the times in my life when I asked Jesus to calm the storm. Should the calm be what I focus my prayers upon? Or should I have the faith that God has a purpose to the storm? The storm may be there to draw me to a new level in my spiritual life. The storm may be there to bring about God's kingdom. I am sad to think of all the times when I have asked Jesus to calm the storm instead of embracing the storm with the faith that God's Will is bigger than my life. How many times have I missed the step to the next level? How awesome would it be if I just danced with God in the rain and trusted that He will keep me close to Him? Faith, hope and love is what I should be praying for.

The Prayer "Soul of Christ"

2009-06-14T13:19:00.000-07:00

This prayer was on the cover of the bulletin today.

Taken from A Contemporary Reading of the Spiritual Exercises

Jesus, may all that is you flow into me.
May your body and blood be my food and drink.
May your passion and death be my strength and life.
Jesus, with you by my side enough has been given.
May the shelter I seek be the shadow of your cross.
Let me not run from the love which you offer,
But hold me safe from the forces of evil.
On each of my dyings, shed your light and your love.
Keep calling to me until that day comes,
When, with your saints, I may praise you forever.
Amen

Divine Beauty in Us

2009-06-12T18:13:00.000-07:00

In the last CRHP meeting, our spiritual leader had a vision about a beautiful garden and how each one of us was a beautiful flower in the garden. And the gardener in the garden was Christ. And while she admired the beauty of all the flowers-all of us, he carefully picked all the best flowers of each one of us and made her a bouquet and handed it to her. It was at that moment that she knew she would be our spiritual director. The thing that stuck out at me was how she was struck by the beauty of the garden. I consider myself to be a pretty average soul. Why would God choose beauty as a means to describe us? Later that evening, I saw an article on the Word Among Us website that went into great detail about divine beauty. I was drawn to read it thinking that there was something more that God wanted me to understand about the vision. The following is a summery of that article.

God is beautiful. His beauty is something that we cannot comprehend here on Earth with the limitations of our imperfect humanity. The Son is of the Father and the Holy Spirit is the breath they share. Therefore, the Trinity is beautiful. They are beautiful because they admire the beauty they see in each other. The beauty of their relationship is much like music. Each note derives its beauty from its relationship to the other notes. Their beauty is not defined by the limitations of our senses. Their beauty is divine and something that we will fully experience in the next life.God created mankind in His image. Therefore, before sin entered the world, Adam and Eve understood and experienced divine beauty. They lived with the beauty of God in the garden. They saw the beauty in each other. Life was beautiful. After they committed sin, Adam and Eve could no longer see the beauty God gave them. They were ashamed of their nakedness and covered themselves. They hid from God. Because of their sin, they lost their privilege to experience divine beauty. However, God did not take away their desire to seek beauty. As humans, we seek and appreciate beauty. This is seen in things such as art and music. God left us with this desire so that some day we may find our way back to the source of the beauty.

When God's Son came into this world, He had to give up the experience of divine beauty. He had to become human- like us. The divine beauty was absent from this world and the only way He could bring it back to us was to become one of us. This sacrifice brings me to my knees. The humility He has is amazing. He became one of us and gave up the beauty He experienced with His father. This is an amazing unconditional Love for mankind. When He was on earth, He spoke constantly of God's glory. Glory is another word for beauty. He said that by doing the will of the Father, He is glorified. He became like a window through which we can see the beauty of God. By doing His father's will in dying on the cross, Christ pays the debt for the sin of humanity. He gives beauty back to the world through its opposite- an ugly death on the cross. When we accept His love and give our hearts to Him, we are made beautiful. We become part of His family and we share in His beauty. And he generously gave us the Eucharist so we can share in His beauty more fully here on earth.

We are made beautiful through the relationship we share with Christ. And we are made more beautiful every day that we not only give our love to Christ but also to each other. You see, Christ taught us that we should not be looking for the love of beauty. We should be looking for the beauty of love. The Trinity models this love for us and their love is what brings about their beauty. Christ modeled this love for us during His life on earth. He loved us and His Father with every ounce of His being. His love made Him radiate an inner beauty that conquered death which brought beauty back to the world and the people He and His Father loved. And with every small ounce of love we give Him and give each other, He abundantly shares His beauty with us.

After reading the article, I definitely had a clearer understanding of the beauty in the vision. We are beautiful in the garden because Christ makes us beautiful. He waters us with His love and shines His beautiful light on our faces. He carefully prunes us and showers us with hope so that we may become stronger and more beautiful every day. He allows the rain to wash the dust off so we may soak up as much of His light as we can. He planted us all in His garden so that we can not only love Him and place our lives in His hands, but also love and share with each other as well. And He brings others to the garden so that they may see our beauty. And He hopes that we will tell them all about the one who makes us beautiful so that they may want to grow in His garden too.

The Breath of the Holy Spirit

2009-05-31T07:28:00.000-07:00

When at the tender age of 5, I walked down the aisle of that tiny baptist church and announced to the pastor I wanted to be saved and I wanted Jesus in my heart, I know at that moment the Holy Spirit took hold of me. I breathed in the Holy Spirit on that day. I began my life long journey to seek God and find His purpose for me. My choices were no longer mine. My plans were no longer relevant. My life was not my own to guide. I knew this growing up. I tried to deny this when I thought I was all grown up but God showed me otherwise. He has a hold on my life and He is not letting go.

The Holy Spirit guided me through out high school. When my baptist church wanted to judge the hearts of those outside of its walls, it was the Holy Spirit that led me to question. At the age of 18, after some turmoil with friends and adults in my baptist church, it was the Holy Spirit that told me to get up and leave- literally get up in the middle of service and leave. So I got up and walked out of the church that I had known since childhood. It was the Holy Spirit that put friends in my life of the catholic faith at that moment in time. At the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I walked into a Catholic Church where I found the presence of God overpowering.

It was the Holy Spirit that gave me the strength to tell my very Baptist family that I was going to be Catholic. I was going to join a church that the Baptist faith considered misguided and lost. I was leaving the faith they worked so hard to instill in me and going to be part of a faith they considered contrary to the word of God. It was the Holy Spirit that gave me the confidence to tell them that the Catholic Church was where God wanted me to be.

It was the Holy Spirit that calmed me down and worked everything out when I got pregnant a little too early in life. It was the Holy Spirit that guided my young family to move to Texas. And I came here kicking and screaming at the Holy Spirit, but He still loved me anyway. He even game me confirmation after confirmation that Texas is where He wanted us to be by providing jobs, a house we could afford, and a place to stay while we were in transition. He even gave us another sign that we were supposed to move when a tornado hit our house in Slidell almost one year to the date of when we sold it.

The Holy Spirit has been at work the whole time we have lived here. Most recently, He was with me the night I unexpectedly delivered my son Ben at 32 weeks in a hospital in San Antonio. Even though he was 8 weeks early and we were so far from home, I was at peace that everything would work out. That peace can only come from God. Now, Ben is a very healthy, smart and active two-year old. You would never know that he was premature. Then, when life got really stressful in my fifth year as a middle school band director in Texas, it was the Holy Spirit that told me to quit my job and God will provide. And He has provided. Miracles happen every month that help us get by.

As I look back on all this, I am astounded at the blessings I have had on my road of life. I am so very thankful for the family God has given me, the friends who enter my life at just the right moment, and the faith community that I am growing with. I can now see that the Holy Spirit has always been at work in my life. I wish I had chosen to stay close to God during all this time. I discovered that traveling on this road was not easy, especially when I was trying to do it my way. And in that discovery, I became sad. Happiness was gone and I felt alone. I could have avoided it if I had chosen to stay close to the One who had chosen this road for me.

I am surrendering more and more to the Holy Spirit as I travel along. And with each new step of trust, I am blessed with miracle after miracle. As I look ahead, His light gets brighter and brighter and His voice gets louder and louder. What a wonderful road God has chosen for me. I can't imagine traveling anywhere else.

Providence Prayer

2009-05-30T19:41:00.000-07:00

by Thomas Merton, OCSO

My Lord God, I have no idea where I'm going.

I do not see the road ahead of me,
and I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself, and the fact
that I think I am doing your will
does not man I am actually doing so.

But I believe the desire to please you
does in fact please you,
and I hope I have that desire in everything I'm doing.

I hope I will never do anything apart from that desire,
and I know if I do this
you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always,
though I may seem to be lost
and in the shadow of death.

I will not fear for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Leaving Rocks Behind

2009-05-28T11:33:00.001-07:00

Wow. I just had a God moment. I know that I am supposed to write about it here. Let me begin by describing my state of mind the past few days. Basically, I have been pouting. I have not been pleasant to be around. I have been feeling sorry for myself. And my focus has not been on my journey, but on things of this world- distractions. I have been distracted by the situation I am in as a wife of a competitive Texas high school band director. All those around me say I should be mad and angry, but now I know that focusing on this situation is not what I should be doing. I should be praying and keeping my eye on what God wants me to focus on.

As I was just about to sit at the sewing machine and complete yet another task I have volunteered for, I started to pray. I began to tell God I didn't like these feelings of anger and self pity. And immediately, he reminded me that I had not read my meditation today. So, reluctantly, I got up and came to the computer and looked at today's meditation from Word Among Us. The Gospel reading is from John 17.

I started reading John 17 the other day and I was very moved. I am not sure if I have ever read this chapter before. It was like I was reading it for the first time. While reading it, I could see Jesus knelt in prayer and I could hear His voice. This is such an intimate moment Jesus shares with His Father. I almost felt like I was spying on Him. And as I listened, I became very humbled. In this intimate moment, Jesus was praying for you and me. The words coming out of His mouth were about you and me. He called us a gift to Him. Imagine, you and me a gift to Jesus. I have always considered Jesus a gift to us. He went on to describe His love for us and His desires for us. He prayed for us to be one with Him and the Father. He loved us so much that He wanted us in His heavenly family. The love He felt for you and me is just overwhelming. This prayer took place the day before He was crucified. He knew that He would be leaving. He wasn't afraid of leaving this world- He was looking forward to joining His Father. But, you could tell that He was concerned about leaving us. He wanted to see each and everyone of us again- to be one with Him in His family in heaven. And as He continued His prayer, He put us in the hands of His Father. We were all that He worked for on this earth. And He put all that he worked for, all that He loved, all that He nurtured in the hands of His father. This is amazing trust.

So, my God moment happened as I read the end of the meditation. The WAU author says that Jesus is praying for us to be unified. He wants us to be one. The love of Christ unites all Christians. Then the author went on to say that we should pray together. Even if we are of other denominations, we should pray together. Jesus will be with us in this prayer. And praying together with people of other traditions will help us to be more loving and caring to one another. This is when I had my moment and my answer.

I have been wondering if I had really reached forgiveness. Have I really taken the rock out of my back pack? And the answer is yes. But the interesting part is, I have been unpacking the rock for a while and didn't even know it. You see, I worked at a bible church this past school year. And I have prayed with these wonderful colleagues and friends all year long. And they are not Catholic. God put me in a place where I would have to pray with a community so much like the community that rejected me all those years ago. And in that time, I was unpacking my backpack. Through that prayer, I was becoming more loving and more caring. The wall that was thrown up all those years ago was crumbling down. Praying with these women allowed me to experience the divine love I needed in order to forgive the community that cast me aside. And through that forgiveness, I have been able to find the community where God wants me to grow, love and serve. My rock is gone. Thanks be to God!!!

The Rain

2009-05-23T19:16:00.000-07:00

It rained a little here and there in this great country of Texas. I was corrected today by a Native Texan that Texas isn't a state but rather a country. I didn't argue. One of the first things I learned here in Texas is you don't argue with a Native. Anyhow, it rained. And the world was made new again. I love to observe the sky and earth after a rain. The haze is gone. The dust is washed away. Everything is crystal clear. You can see the intricate details of each unique cloud as it dances with the light of the sun in the big blue sky. You can follow the birds flying to and fro for miles and miles. The grass seems greener and the trees seem more resolute. Flowers with their newly washed faces search for the light of the sun. Life is rejoicing in the gift of rain.

Once again, nature has a way of mirroring my faith journey. There have been times when it has rained just a little and other times when it has stormed. During the rain, it is hard to see the road ahead. The rain pounds into your skin. The hammering rain can destroy your train of thought and distract you from your goal. When it starts to rain, we look for a place to take cover. We leave the road and find a safe haven. Things may be destroyed during a particular violent rain. We may loose a few blooming flowers. A branch may break off a tree here and there. If you are in Texas, you may loose the roof on your safe haven. In New Orleans, the all-consuming rain may run over the levees and wash your safe haven away. During such events, we may get angry at the rain. We may blame the rain for destroying our happiness or taking away all the hard work we have stored up in this life. It is hard to find our joy when we are wet and cold and trying to find peace in our so called safe havens. But when the rain is over, and the sun is shining in the clear blue sky, things are put in perspective. Life becomes crystal clear. Just as the landscape is shaped by the rain swollen creeks, so am I shaped by the trials in my path. I am changed. I am made new. The dust is washed away and I am made more resolute as my face soaks up the light of my God. Just as nature is strengthen by the rain, so am I strengthened by the bumps along my road. And as the blinding storm clears away, I can see that I was not alone. In fact, I am now walking closer to the one who guided me, protected me, sometimes carried me and allowed the rain to wash me just enough. Long enough to give me the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other as I travel on this road of life.

Go

2009-05-22T11:22:00.000-07:00

This prayer was given to me at CRHP. I wanted to share it here. It is pretty much the ongoing conversation I have been having with God the past 10 years. Thank you for the prayer Rose.

"Go"

And the Lord said, "GO"

And I said, "Who, me?"

And he said, "Yes, you."

And I said, "But I'm not ready yet, and I am busy with family and I have a job to go to, and I've already promised friends I'd..."

And he said, "You're stalling"

And the Lord said, "Go"

And I said, "But I don't want to"

And he said, "I didn't ask you if you wanted to."

And I said, "Listen, I'm not the kind of person to get involved. Besides, my family won't like it, and what will my friends think?"

And he said, "baloney"

And yet a third time the Lord said, "Go"

And I said, "Do I have to?"

And he said, "Do you love me?"

And I said, "Look, I'm scared. People are going to hate me, and cut me up in little pieces. I can't take it all by myself."

And he said, "Where do you think I will be?"

And the Lord said, "Go"

And I said, "Here I am Lord, Send me"