The Princess goes Camping

This weekend, I was made to go camping. I had to go alone with little Gerry. My Husband conveniently scheduled the band trip over graduation camp out weekend. I knew of the conflict in September. However, the shock of actually having to go camping didn’t settle in until Friday. I always thought that camping alone in a tent with my 9 year old would be plan B. I just hadn’t figured out plan A yet. Well, unfortunately, plan A never materialized and I was forced to endure plan B.

You may think that I am overreacting a bit. Let me fill you in on a little background. I HAVE NEVER BEEN CAMPING. My family never went camping when I was a kid. I did go to Girl Scout camping which I thought was camping but now I have learned it wasn’t really camping. As girl scouts, we stayed in cabins and had real bathrooms next to our cabins. For me, this was camping enough. I do admit to being a bit of a Princess. I don’t do bugs. I don’t do dirt. I do require flushing toilets and clean showers. And if you want me to spend time outside, it must be dry and pleasant. I don’t do well with cold and hot. So you can see how camping is a bit out of the box for me.

The anticipation leading up to the camping was just as traumatic as the camping itself. I really avoided thinking about the whole event until about a week before it was supposed to take place. I still had a little hope that I could come up with Plan A but I was starting to mentally prepare for plan B. I watched the weather. Now, last year the weather was on my side. We had the threat of overnight severe weather so they canceled the overnight part of the trip. I was overjoyed. So I anxiously awaited the weather forecast for this camping trip. And there was a glimmer of hope. They were predicting thunderstorms on Friday night and Saturday morning. Camping was to begin on Saturday afternoon. So I started praying, “Please God, deliver me from this camping trip and delay the storms by one day.” I knew that God was my buddy and I believed that he would answer my prayer. I held out hope that He would give me that miracle all the way until Friday evening. When the weather played out like the original forecast predicted, I got nervous. Especially when I got the e-mail saying that even though it has rained a bunch, they weren’t canceling the campout yet. They were in a “wait and see” mode with the weather. That is when I had a light bulb moment regarding the weather and the camping. The rain was making the camp ground wet. Was I going to have to go camping in the mud? Surely, God would not do this to me! Are these people crazy? This campout should be canceled so I do have to sleep in the mud!

As evening wore on Friday, I got more nervous. That is when I decided to go buy camping supplies. At this point, I was holding out hope that Murphy’s law would come into play. If I buy all the camping supplies, then they will promptly cancel the campout. So I bought the camping supplies, and then checked my e-mail every 5 minutes. My answer came on Saturday morning: “Even though we may run into an occasional shower, the campout is a GO.” My heart stopped. I was really going camping. Camping in the mud and rain. Why is God doing this to me? Why hasn’t He delivered me from this camping problem? I knew what the answer was. It was probably going to draw me closer to my precious child and to Him. But why has he picked camping in the mud and rain to bring this about?! So, in my defeated moment, I began packing our camping supplies. The amount of stuff was amazing. I didn’t have the slightest clue how to get it from my car to the camping site. I was very overwhelmed.

The next morning, I got up, savored my shower and packed the car. We made a quick run to Wal-mart for dreaded rain gear. After dropping Ben off with my wonderful friend, we headed to the camp grounds. It was an hour long drive- an hour for me to think about all the mud and look at the dark clouds. When we arrived, my guardian angel in the form of a man with a pick-up truck helped me get our gear to the camp site. I promptly set up the tent all by myself. It was a nice feeling of accomplishment but I have to admit it wasn’t very hard. Then my friend arrived and I helped her set up her tent. After walking around a bit, we realized that we were the only two women camping without husbands. And my shoes were very muddy.

The first event was a water balloon fight at the pirate ships. The pirate ships are the size of real ships and the boys can launch balloons from the top of one ship and hit the other ship. Of course this was great fun for them. And I was enjoying watching it from the sidelines. Then the Cubmaster made all the leaders get on one ship and put all the kids on the other ship. Then after I reluctantly got on the ship, he suggested that the kids could leave their ship and try to get on the leaders’ ship if they wanted a better shot. This was not a good plan in my opinion. The other leaders made me take a water balloon so I could defend myself. I threw it at a kid but it didn’t break so I immediately went to plan B which was hide. That worked for a while but I was eventually hit and then I was wet. And my shoes were very muddy.

After the pirate ships, we changed, ate dinner and then headed out to the graduation ceremony. I was looking forward to seeing all the boys get their new neckerchiefs and advance to their next rank. We arrived and sat down and everything seemed nice. But really, we were being hunted. In those first few moments of our arrival, the mosquitoes were formulating their assault plan. It took them about 10 minutes for them to start their attack. And it was vicious. These were not normal mosquitoes. They were giant. Remember, everything is bigger in Texas. And they were not deterred by bug spray. I was killing them left and right. They tried every inch of my body and I fended them off as best I could. Unfortunately, they did succeed and I have a bite ON MY FACE. It’s such a wonderful souvenir. And after the battle was over and we were safely back at our camp site, my shoes were still very muddy.

For our evening activity, we had skits around the campfire. This was actually fun to watch. The boys love putting on a show for one another. Our boys ended up doing three skits. Their last skit was like one of those MasterCard commercials where the punch line was “watching Mrs. Lori’s face when we tell her she has to go potty in the woods, priceless.” After the skits, they gave me chocolate and I was happy. They all had a good time cooking their marshmallows and eating their smores. And then it was time to get ready for bed.

I was going to have to use what they considered to be a bathroom. I think it is called a latrine. The toilet is basically a hole in the ground and you bring your own toilet paper. I went inside and conducted a survey before I decided to actually use it. I knew there was a flushing toilet up the road but I also knew it wasn’t very clean. After weighing the long walk to the real bathroom with the conditions at the latrine, I decided to “man up” and use the latrine. I am proud to say I successfully used the facilities without touching anything. But my shoes were still muddy.

Sleeping in the tent went as well as to be expected. I am a very light and fussy sleeper. I did have an air mattress so I wasn’t completely uncomfortable. However, even though I had my ipod, I could still hear the bugs dive bombing the tent as I tried to fall asleep. It took forever for me to actually sleep. And then the wind woke me up at 5:30 and I couldn’t go back to sleep. It was very creepy. Even though I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t want to get up because it was FREEZING outside- well, I guess outside is inside when you are in a tent. Semantics aside, the point is I was COLD. And I was tired. Which I guess is why people kept inquiring about my rough night at breakfast. I guess I didn’t look so good. And the mosquito bite on the face didn’t help. I am really glad I forgot to bring a mirror.

After breakfast, we were to go on a hike. I was actually in better spirits. We were coming to the end of our trip!!!! Anyhow, I wasn’t that worried about the hike. I am a runner so I knew that I could handle the endurance it required. But other than that, I didn’t really know what we would encounter, so I guess you can say ignorance is bliss. As soon as we entered the woods, there it was- poison ivy. It was everywhere. We were hiking in the poison ivy forest. I immediately started to itch. And I was glad we were walking fast. I was worried the poison ivy would pass through my clothes and get me. And then the terrain got kind of rough. We hit a spot where basically people were sliding down this steep hill, hoping for the best. I decided to run down the hill into the arms of my other guardian angel in the form of a sturdy man with a good foot hold. After going up and down and all around in the poison ivy forest, we were allowed to pack up and go get our cars. The best news I heard on the trip yet! However, my shoes were still very muddy.

I must say that the trip wasn’t as horrible as I expected. I tend to think of the worst so I can take out the element of bad surprise. And I did have a good time with my son. He had a blast. It was fun to watch him be a boy with his friends. Being that it is Sunday, we had a short religious service this morning. And the man leading it asked this question: “Why are you here?” All I can say is this: it’s for the love of a 9 year-old boy. I got on the pirate ship for the love of a 9 year-old boy. I used a latrine for the love of a 9 year-old boy. I got harassed by Texas-sized mosquitoes for the love of a 9 year-old boy. I slept outside in a tent for the love of a 9 year old boy. I waded through the poison ivy forest for the love of a 9 year-old boy. I sacrificed my shoes to the mud for the love of a 9 year-old boy. When they put this baby boy in my arms 9 years ago, I knew in the back of my mind that I would have to endure the dreaded camping trip one day. And even though I avoided it like the plague, God made sure that I got to go so I could experience the love of a 9 year-old boy.

Relearning

As a former Southern Baptist and convert to Catholicism, I have some things that I need to rationalize and rethink. As a child, I was taught that there are some teachings and traditions of the Catholic Church that are wrong. One of those is the Crucifix. I remember asking an adult why do Catholics use a Crucifix and we use just a cross. I was told that we(Southern Baptists) like to concentrate on the risen Lord and not upon His death. The Glory is in His Resurrection, not His death.

They are right in the sense that there is tremendous glory in His Resurrection. But there is so much value in understanding, and meditating upon His Passion. His death was the ultimate act of Love. Through His passion, I understand how He suffered so that I may have life. Through his passion, I can begin to contemplate his supernatural Love for humanity. Even though he faced rejection on so many levels, He still willingly laid down His life for His friends. In His Passion, I find His Love. And even though it isn't pleasing to the eye, the Crucifix is pleasing to my heart.

Last night when I walked out of mass, the moon was red. Tonight when I walked out of mass, I could smell the rain. It is interesting how creation recognizes His Passion during Holy week.

Conviction

I shared with my husband my penance. He looked very surprised when I told him that Father said I needed to go to the Triduum. He said in jest, "Wow, you must be a big sinner! The most I got was a couple Hail Marys." And then he hugged me and told me how great it was that his wife was a big sinner. If you know us, then you would be laughing right now. Humor is the main language we speak in our marriage. But he got me thinking.

I have been so convicted lately. My sin has been staggering. I have felt heavy and sad and unworthy and inadequate. I have been trying to figure out why this conviction has hit me so hard. Why am I struggling so much with my wretchedness? Why is it so illuminated? I haven't done anything horrible like murder or anything. But I just feel the conviction weighing on my soul.

Tonight, I prayed about it before mass started. As I was meditating on it, I felt the my world bear down on me and I just prayed, Jesus, what do I do. "Keep your eyes on Me" was his answer. And as I looked at him on the crucifix, and on the alter, and on the faces of my fellow parishioners, I felt peace and that heaviness was lifted for a moment.

Tonight was the night we celebrated Jesus' gift of the last supper. It was on this night, that he taught us about service and gave us the Eucharist. He washed the feet of his disciples. And in doing as he taught, we washed the feet of each other. It is easier to wash than to be washed. It is easier to wallow in self pity than it is to accept forgiveness. It is easier to hold on to what you know than it is to let go and let God.

After I received my Lord in the Eucharist, I again felt that heaviness. The conviction was illuminated so brightly that I couldn't see anything but it. Then I remembered that I was supposed to keep my eyes on him. That is when I realized why it was happening. When you walk so closely in his light, you see all of the naked truth. His light doesn't hide anything. That is why I felt so wretched. His light was shining on my imperfect humanity. When I took my eyes off my wretchedness and looked at him, he told me, "I did all of this for you. You are forgiven."

All I can say is wow. What a moment.

I Have Been Reconciled

Well, I went. I waited in a long line. I had an hour to keep thinking and rethinking everything I thought I should say. And to get more nervous. But, I must admit it was very much worth while. And it was good- no great. It was surreal to hear a flesh and blood person tell me what God has been telling me in prayer. I haven't shared any of what God has been telling me with anyone and for all of it to come pouring out of the Priest's mouth was a little jaw dropping. God knows me well and he knows the obvious must hit me square in the forehead in order for me to "get it."

Got it, God. Thanks for loving me enough to go the extra mile to make the obvious dance out in front of me in bright, pretty colors. I must be an exasperating project. Not only is Your Love unfathomable, but so is Your patience. I promise not to wait another 10 years. I will go when You tell me to go. I am second.

Reconciliation

I am writing here today mostly to hold myself accountable to what I have planned for tomorrow. You see, I haven't been to reconciliation since I went for the first time in RCIA 10 plus years ago. I have allowed myself to find excuse after excuse for not going. When I first converted, I was involved with a very liberal college parish who didn't emphasize the importance of the sacrament. After college, life got busy and we didn't become heavily involved in church. I didn't grow up in the Catholic faith and I didn't feel the tug to go. I didn't really understand the value in going. Growing up, I was taught that the Catholic practice of reconciliation was not a correct interpretation of the bible. So, it has been a hard concept for me to understand. Now I think I do and I am ready to go. As long as I don't chicken out. Which is why I am writing here. If I write it here, then I will go.

In my quest to understand the importance of reconciliation, I have been in prayer. I have prayed for God to show me where I need to examine; what I need to rid myself of; how I need to change. He has shown me that. And the list is quite long. I am easily overwhelmed by it. I am praying for guidance. I am praying for the priest. I hope God has cleared enough time in his schedule for my confession.

Peace Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.
Divine Master,
Grant that I may seek not so much to be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For in giving we receive,In pardoning we are pardoned,
And in dying we are born to eternal life.

Who Crucified My Lord?

The answer is me. This is really hard to face. But God has made it clear to me today. Today is Palm Sunday. It is the day Jesus arrived in Jerusalem for passover and then to die on the cross. Today we studied the Passion of our Lord. Listening to His passion brought me to that moment. The moment Jesus wept for us. The love He has is overwhelming. Here He is. He is about to die. And that is not His concern. His concern is the reason He had to die. He is concerned for our lives. He knows that due to sin, we struggle and struggle and struggle to find peace, love and happiness. We struggle against outside forces and inside forces. And sometimes we do not end up on His side. We don't end up in His love. And He wept.

The sanhedrin led the people to distrust and reject Jesus which resulted in his crucifixion. They were the typical human beings. They were too proud to acknowledge Jesus' authority. They were too self involved to look at the bigger picture. They were so involved with going through the motions that they missed the miracle that was standing in their midst. They didn't want to give up their power. They didn't want to become humble. They would not open their hearts to God's love. These human traits(or sins)are what led them to nail Jesus to a cross and watch him die.

And these are the same traits I struggle with every day. During this lent, we have been challenged to die to ourselves. Dying to these traits will free us to walk closer with Him. If I give in and allow myself to take credit when I shouldn't, or be too proud to admit a mistake, or take control when I should put it on the alter, then up goes the wall between me and my God. I become one of those people 2000 years ago, standing in the crowd, chanting for Jesus to be crucified. How can He forgive me? It's a Love that my sinful, human self is still trying to comprehend.

Here are the lyrics to a hymn that really spoke to me today:

How Could You Say No?
by Mickey cates, Brown Bannister, and Billy Spraque

Thorns on his head, spear in his side;
Yet it was a heartache that made him cry.
He gave His life so you would understand.
Is there any way you could say "no" to this man?

If Christ Himself were standin' here;
His face full of glory, His eyes full of tears;
and He reached out His arms with His nailed-printed hands,
is there any way you could say "no" to this man?

How could you look into His tear-stained eyes
knowing that it's you He's thinking of?
Could you tell Him you're not ready now to give Him your life?
Could you say that you don't think you need His love?

Jesus is here, with His arms open wide.
You can see Him with your heart, if you'll stop lookin' with your eyes.
He's left it up to you; He's done all that He can.
Is there anyway you could say no to this man?

Thorns on His head, your life in His hands,
Is there any way you could say no to this man?

Anger

I write here because I am trying to get all of this straight in my head. I am walking a path so much closer to my God than I have ever been on. It takes the blessing of faith to keep me on it. Now that I have been on it for a while, it has become a part of my everyday life. I think God has always been a part of my life, but I have not always allowed him to take my hand and guide me each day. This relationship that has developed between my Lord and myself is so close to my heart. It has become my normal. My prayer life has deepened and I have learned so much about myself and my faith. My Lord has given me so much affirmation about my call to the catholic church and my role there. I have experienced God in so many awesome ways these last few months that it leaves me speechless.

Which brings me to my reason for needing to write and sort things out. The lesson that I am learning is about anger. Anger takes its hold on me easily. If things are not going my way, it is easy for me to turn to anger. God has been making me more aware of my anger issues. Now, I am not one of these people who throws things and beats their children. No, I like to hold it all inside and occasionally dump in all on my poor unsuspecting husband. People who know me would not think that anger is so rampant in my life. But, I can guarantee you that it has a foothold on me.

This week has been a trial for me. The granite guy has probably stolen our money. We have filed a theft by check complaint with the Attorney General. My husband is calling the police tomorrow about the next steps we should take. And I am very angry. This man has taken a large sum of money from us. We trusted him. In hindsight, it was something we probably shouldn't have done. We are frustrated because we can't finish the kitchen remodel without the money we gave him. He has strung us along on this for three months now and we are coming to the conclusion that we have been had. And I am angry. The moment the anger arrived, I found myself hiding from God. I couldn't face him with all that anger inside of me. I didn't want to face him. I didn't want to go to him. And now that I am coming to the other side of the river, I understand how God is drawing me closer to him through this situation. Human anger and Godly love can not exist side by side. As long as I hold on to that burning anger, I have no desire to seek out my Lord. I am ashamed to say it, but it is my truth. My anger keeps me from my God. This is why he tells us all over the Bible to let go of anger. His love and my anger repel each other. In order for me to find him this week, I had to let go of the anger. I had to find a way to keep the anger out of my heart. Even though I have every reason to be angry, I have to let it go in order to be close to my Lord. That closeness is something I crave and need to feel normal. I am still struggling to keep the anger at bay and delight in the moments when I succeed.

The readings for Mass today include the story of Abraham nearly sacrificing his only son, Issac. Abraham trusted God so much that he was willing to follow God's command and sacrifice his own child. Abraham was willing to lay everything he had on the alter and trust that God knew how to guide him. I pray for just a fraction of Abraham's faith.