One Little Success for the Holy Spirit

It is the little things that seem to make a world of difference.  I remember reading a quote by a saint that essentially critiqued the readers for allowing their emotions to control them so much.  That we allow ourselves to become unduly happy when things go well and inordinately depressed when things go badly.  Instead, we are to remain more constant, trusting everything to the Lord.

I do not do that very well.  Nevertheless, today is one of those days that I am perhaps unduly happy.  I'll take it.  There were a couple moments today that I felt a beautiful joy.  The simple thing of placing in the classroom another tissue box decorated by a student in a Theological theme.  Silly, perhaps.  I just loved the idea that even my tissue boxes are decorated with Scripture and pictures of saints.  The little things.

Today I felt elated as I won a victory when I didn't even know I was in a battle.  A couple weeks ago I was perusing an online Catholic bookstore.  I love books.  I love to buy books.  I wish I could buy more books.  I saw that Delivered was being sold, a book that gives testimonies of people who have fought and conquered, with God's grace, an addiction to pornography.  I looked at the cover, read a snippet of the book, and was intrigued.  The price was $8-9 for one copy.  However, one could purchase 20 books at only $2 per book.  I love a good deal.  Good deals and good books make one of the most irresistible combinations.

Trish, do you really need 20 copies of a book you have never even read?  I was just about to say "No" when I felt something within that told me to just buy them.  So I did.  And then I impatiently waited 2 weeks for them to arrive at my doorstep.  Last night I opened the box, took off the plastic wrap from one of the books, and began to read through it.  I didn't read the whole book, but I read a few of the stories and I was taken.  I don't know much about pornography.  In many ways it seems like it is in a different world than I am in.  I know this crisis affects me because it affects people I interact with, but I don't typically think of pornography on a daily or weekly basis.

The problem that remained was how would I get them into the hands of my students.  I could have the most life-changing book but unless they were reading it, it wouldn't make a difference.  So I did what any self-respecting teacher would do.  I offered them extra credit.  The good sign was that neither class asked how much extra credit.  All they have to do is read one of the stories (10-15 pages) and write two paragraphs--one summarizing the story and another speaking about pornography and the effect it has on the world, what they think of it, or other problems that go along with pornography addiction.

Nine students from each class took the book and I was thrilled.  Just having it in their hands is a success I am willing to celebrate.  My hope is that the one story they have to read for extra credit will turn into curiosity about the other stories.  Maybe they will tell another classmate or someone in another class about the book and lend it to them.  The possibilities are endless!

This is a rather small thing considering that maybe none of them will actually follow through.  Yet it seems like a triumph to me.  I will take that triumph, minuscule though it may be, because victories do not come often or easily in this battlefield.  So perhaps the Holy Spirit is doing something great through these little books that my students are being bribed to read.

Now who says that buying an excessive number of books is a bad thing?

(Purchase your own copy of Delivered and spread the truth!  http://shop.catholic.com/catalog/product/view/id/2364/category/44/)    

UPDATE:
After the first day, I am still running on excitement.  One of my students spoke to me after class about something and as I was looking for a paper he quietly asked about the book and how I found it.  I told him I received an e-mail from a place advertising the book and I just decided to buy 20 copies.  Quietly he told me that he wished he had the book 5 years ago.  It took a moment but what he was telling me finally sank in.  He told me he plans to read the whole book.  Deo gratias!  Keep going, Holy Spirit, keep going!

To Thine Own Self Be True...

Morals get in the way of fun, don't they?  I remember taking a Christian Moral Principles class in college and then I began to analyze everything I was doing.  Well, probably not everything...but many things that I hadn't considered before seemed to present the possibility of being immoral.  Even to this day I cannot quite decide if this semester (because it didn't last until now) of near scrupulosity was a blessing or a curse, was good or bad.

At times I think we are able to give ourselves passes or excuse ourselves from seeking holiness in every aspect of our lives.  I want to be holy...but it isn't that bad if I ____________________ (insert current vice or guilty pleasure).  I'm pretty good most of the time but I'm human, which means I am not perfect and thus I ________________________.  While the Lord doesn't call us to beat ourselves up for being imperfect, He does desire perfection.  We are to strive for the perfection that our Heavenly Father has.  Yet we are really good at excuses for ourselves.

So this semester of questioning the morality of different actions was interesting.  Was speeding a sin?  Would not obeying posted signs or rules be sinful?  Was it a sin to lie to the Nazis standing at the door asking if I was harboring Jews?  The professor I had insisted that it was morally good to follow all just laws to our fullest extent.  Lying, he said, was always sinful, even in the case of the Nazis at the door.  (Side note: Before you get upset about not being able to lie to Nazis, he also said that we were not supposed to tell them the truth either.  Interesting, huh?  We should use "discreet language."  They don't have the right to know the information they are seeking because they desire to hurt others.  Anyway, lying in this circumstance would you make less morally culpable because you under pressure.)  Now I wanted to follow all of the rules and I am a person who typically likes to do so anyway.  I think I have a pretty good sense of right and wrong but this class was challenging me to look at things I had always accepted as "not that bad" and strive to look for what would be virtuous.

The memory that comes to mind is from when I traveled to Switzerland and Germany.  The semester that I took the Christian Moral Principles class happened to be when I was studying abroad in Austria.  One weekend a few friends and I traveled to Germany and Switzerland.  We were not in Germany for long but during our time there we went to Fussen, Germany and saw Neuschwanstein Castle.

Isn't it gorgeous?  Sadly, I never really realized how beautiful it was until I was looking for pictures of it.  We were there for such a brief time.  And now I wish I would have actually toured the castle.  Instead, we got there, looked at the outside, saw the price to tour, and decided against it.  I regret that a little but I think I was getting so used to seeing gorgeous cathedrals and opera houses that touring a castle didn't seem that special.  It seems a bit crazy now.

The story: We are at this gorgeous castle but decided against touring it.  However, there was a bridge one could get to that gave a lovely view of the whole castle.

Unfortunately for us, it had recently snowed and was closed for safety or to clear it off.  Doubly unfortunate for me was that posted sign was in German and English.  It was easy enough to slip around the gate and several people were doing it.  The people that looked like they would be in charge didn't seem to mind that much or shoo the people away.  Here was the dilemma--do I obey the rule (made, presumably, with my best interest in mind and clearly posted in English (drat!)) or do I dismiss the rule out of a desire to see the castle and acknowledging that it wasn't really very bad conditions.

What did I do?

I didn't go on the bridge.  Instead, I sat by the bags with another girl (who didn't want to go--not because of a moral dilemma but because she had little interest in it) and felt an internal tugging over the situation.  I can see it going both ways and I hesitate to say that I should have just done it because we are to strive for perfection, not "OK."  Yet part of me thinks this is being scrupulous.  I don't exactly know but I know it was a semester of pondering the morality of different things.  (Was it wrong to sit in the lovely window seat even though we were told not to sit there?)

Why does this reverie surface today?  Today the school tried to surprise all of the students.  The original schedule was altered and afternoon classes were not to take place, unbeknownst to the students.  However, word spread (as it always does) and students began to question if we had afternoon classes or not.  Today was a shortened day anyway but the students wanted to be in the know.  Yesterday I managed to dodge all of the questions, carefully replying to afternoon classes that my plans were to watch videos or not do too much.  All true.  However, today I received a direct question and my little "don't-lie-but-try-to-evade-question" was uncertain how to morally respond.

"Do we have afternoon classes or not, Miss --?"
Pause.  No way to skillfully evade this question without it being obvious.  This was a student just coming into class and many of them were not yet there or paying attention.
"Please don't ask me direct questions about the schedule.  I don't want to lie to you but I can't tell you the truth."  I am so skillfully secretive.

They kind of laughed at that but I hoped nobody else would ask.  They did.  For them I just responded, "Accept whatever happens today...just don't worry about it."  I overheard some of the students talking and saying that other teachers had said there were afternoon classes and that whatever rumors they heard weren't true.  I just couldn't bring myself to do that.  I have lectured my classes on different occasions about always being truthful.  Not that one always has to tell the complete truth all of the time.  (Ex. How do I look?  You look fat and ugly.  What do you think about me?  Well, to be honest, I really hate you.  I can't stand the way you....)

I wonder sometimes if I take things too far.  I read an article about how telling your children that there is a Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, and Easter Bunny is not sinful because it is helping them develop an imagination.  (If that is not the thesis of the author, I apologize.  I actually skimmed it more than read it thoroughly.  The main gist of the article: you can tell your kids about Santa.)  My professor argued that we shouldn't tell them things that aren't true.  People gave examples of kids who, upon finding out that Santa Claus didn't exist, wondered if Jesus was made up, too.

I think I can see both sides of the story but I am left wondering what is the most virtuous decision.  Because I hesitate when people give the excuse of "it isn't that big of a deal" or "everyone does this" or "don't be so serious/strict/restrictive."  If we are called to be saints, perhaps we will have to look different than others and behave differently.  Not perhaps...we will.  Does being a saint mean being super serious, never joking, and never fun?  No, definitely not.  But saints do strive for virtue in everything that they do.

I end with no neat conclusion because I do not quite know the answer.  Is one being "over the top" attempting to follow all rules and laws?  Or it is simply a death to my desire to be my own boss and do things my own way.  Sometimes just going the speed limit is an act of self-denial.  Do we make excuses for the little flaws we have because we do not desire to put the work into weeding out these things from our hearts and habits?  Or am I being legalistic and missing the main message of God in favor of focusing on little details?  I don't know.  Maybe all are true to a degree.


"Strive even to death for the truth and the Lord God will fight for you." -Sirach 4:28
"A lie is an ugly blot on a man; it is continually on the lips of the ignorant....The disposition of a liar brings disgrace, and his shame is ever with him."  -Sirach 20: 24, 26

The Providential God

The only thing certain about life is that it is uncertain. 

That isn't deep or profound.  But it is true.  Yesterday I found out that a young woman I went to college with lost her husband of 5 months.  It made my heart ache even though we never talked much.  I was surprised the effect it had on me.  That evening and this morning I found myself thinking a lot about her and how hard it must be. 

Yet it made me worry for myself.  Too often I trick myself into thinking that my complete happiness will come when I am engaged, or finally married, or starting a family.  Everything is transient, though, and it can all be taken away in a moment.  My heart began to feel restricted and desired to be closed off.  I began to desire that I would never be in a situation where so much could be lost.  So quickly I was being tricked into thinking that to be closed off was a better option than suffering at the hands of love or for the sake of love.

I imagined what she was feeling and I knew I never wanted to feel that.  I didn't ask the age-old question, "God, why do bad things happen to good people?  Why did this tragedy happen?"  I didn't ask that question because I didn't wonder it.  The question I asked instead was "What can I cling to, Lord?  How could I endure losing that which I hold closest to my heart?"  In honesty, I was thinking that having God alone wasn't enough for me.  I wanted more than the assurance that God would always be with me.  Instead I wanted promises that specific people would always be in my life, that certain things would never happen to me, and that parts of my heart would be left unbroken. 

I know that God alone is enough.  That He provides the graces for every heartache.  Yet in all honesty, I do not live as though He is enough.  I do not cling to Him now as though He is all that is certain.  I cling to other superficial things or to things, good as they are, that cannot fulfill me.

My mind knows the correct answer.  God will provide.  In fact, God is providing.  It is not some future promise but rather a lived reality.  The paradox of love is that one must love with one's heart vulnerable and revealed or it is not actually love.  Yet to love means one will suffer and feel sorrow.  I have a natural tendency to want to protect my heart, to guard it from all that could injure it.  This can be good but it can also close it off from a deep, penetrating love.  The battle within is between self-preservation and self-gift.

This little heart has a lot of expanding to do.  She needs to begin to live as though everything rests in the hands of God and that He will truly provide for every need.  To be so grounded in the Lord that should all else be lost, she could rest assured that not everything was truly lost.  Sacred Heart of Jesus, sanctify our hearts.


P.S. My household sister who lost her husband has a fund set up for her and their unborn baby.  If you feel your heart moved in that direction, please give a gift of money.  Regardless, please pray for them.

http://www.gofundme.com/5fd75k   

The Wedding Feast of the Lamb

The day was cool with a hint of coming winter in the breeze that ruffled my hair and made me grateful for tights and boots.  Winding roads meandered through the sylvan surroundings and we followed them at sometimes dizzying speeds.  Arriving at a church to which we had never been, we soon occupied a special pew reserved near the front.  It was the day of my sister's wedding but there was none of the pre-wedding frenzy that accompanies the typical wedding.  Bows were fastened to the end of each pew, programs were passed out, and a video was rolling.  Other than that, very little would lead one to believe that a wedding would soon take place.

I glanced around hoping to see my sister, wondering if she would be tucked away or kneeling in a pew silently praying.  Music began to issue forth from a keyboard and the bridal procession began.  It was a lengthy procession, including guests from far and wide.  Nearly a dozen priests and a bishop were numbered in that group.  My sister was there, too.  Her veil was fastened securely on her head and her simple wedding gown did not quickly attract the eye, except perhaps as an oddity to the random stranger that would stumble upon this blessed affair.  For those of us present and invited, it was no surprise.  Her hands were secured around an unlit candle and her face was serious but serene. 

My sister's veil was black and her gown was a simple brown dress fastened with a rough cord.  The cord was adorned with three knots.  Poverty.  Chastity.  Obedience.  A firm denial of all that the world offers as important and desirable.  She was armed with a wooden rosary, hanging from her cord.  They would not later produce flowers with which to ornament themselves.  Rather my sister prayed her vows and was then given her crown.  It was a crown of thorns.  And it was striking. 

Very little do weddings typically speak of the crosses that are to come in the marriage.  It may be alluded to, perhaps said outright, but often the joy and happiness of the day are the primary focus.  There is a definite goodness in that.  Here, though, the cross was very evident.  Yet they did not run from it.  Rather they embraced it and clung to it.

She laid on the floor and stretched her arms out in a cruciform.  It was the beauty of the marital embrace in a form that is seen too little.  Her Spouse bound her to Himself and asked her to become one with Him.  He beckoned her, called her name, and delighted in receiving the fullness of her heart.  The gift He gives is that of the cross but not without the hope of the resurrection and the nourishment of the Eucharist. 

The wedding unfolded in a beautiful way and before long we were watching them process out, priests, sisters, and bishop.  A typically long post-nuptial reception line was formed.  There was remarkable joy.  It was not women being oppressed or women surrendering their hope for marriage or women wondering what point life had.  Instead it was the picture of women who know who they are, women who know their purpose, and women aware of the radical love the Author of Life has for them.  There was peace and there was beauty.

At this unusual wedding I realized something that I want at my wedding.  Barring any dramatic revelations from the Lord, I intend to someday get married and raise a family.  Yet this wedding, in its very nature, pointed to the Person who should always be central in such a life transforming moment.  There was no conceivable way to misunderstand who was the central focus.  From beginning to end, God was being worshiped and praised.  It was His love that was being celebrated, along with the love my sister bears.  Many weddings often focus too much on the couple and not enough on the Lord.  At this wedding I realized that I want my guests to leave my wedding with the clear idea that God was the center of it all.  Yes, I want a gorgeous dress and I want to have beautiful pictures of the day.  Of course I want a well-executed reception and lovely music to delight our ears.  Primarily, though, I want the guests to leave the Mass thinking, "Our Lord came to us in the Eucharist...and this couple promised to strive to reflect the love of Christ and the Church." 

I've been to weddings where I could sense something was lacking, a depth or a sincerity.  It was evident that they loved each other but perhaps a little less evident that they loved the Lord.  Yet I've also been to weddings where I was moved by the witness of the couple and grasped the beauty and gravity of the sacrament they were entering into.

She cut the cake, she posed for pictures, she laughed, and she cried.  It was a day of graces and a day of some sorrow.  My heart lurched and broke and healed.  This was the Wedding Feast of the Lamb being lived out on Earth.  I spoke rather few words to her, hugged her several times, and sometimes just watched her with love as she spoke.  There is an ache in my heart and perhaps there is this ache residing within every living person.  It is an intense longing, a feeling that there must be something far greater, far more lasting than this fragile life here.  An ache for union that can never be fully lived in this world and yet my little heart so greatly desires it.  It is an ache in me that desires this exact type of wedding yet also reminds me that I long for marriage and family with an earthly husband.  This is the longing for Heaven, for Our Lord, and for a life completely surrendered to Him.

There is a breaking within me that cannot be articulated and cannot be measured.  This is a place where sorrow and joy blend into a beautiful, ineffable disposition.  It is not mere emotion or a passing feeling.  Life is sorrow and joy and beauty and, eventually, eternal.  In these days before eternity there is searing pain that cuts through hearts and severely strains and changes relationships as we know them.  Yet in the midst of this sorrow there is an abiding peace and joy that reassures us that all of this is worth it.  It convinces us that tonight will pass and morning will spring eternally in our souls.  This temporary separation will give way to a communion that is beyond comprehension.  My heart must be re-created to endure this deep communion lest is burst of happiness.  That is the process it is undergoing now.  The chambers are being widened, the heart is being enlarged, and the desires are being purified.  Yet it will all be worth it.  We shall be gathered in from off the streets and ushered into the banquet of the Lamb.  He will rise, take us by the hand, slip a ring on our finger, place sandals on our feet and wrap a robe around us, and say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant...enter into the joy of your master."

My week...

This week has been my week.  The kind of week where you find ridiculousness at every turn it seems and yet it isn't enough to be overwhelming.  It is Thursday and to date I have: given two detentions, caught one person copying another person's paper (and the other person was willing), confronted a situation that was cheating and explained why, took away a student's phone, and kicked said student out of class.  I wasn't even in school on Monday.  It has been busy here and, on top of it all, I started off the week lacking in sleep and have been the victim of an increasingly annoying cold.

Despite all of this, I don't feel like throwing in the towel, although I am eagerly anticipating Friday and a restful/productive (can that even be possible?!) weekend.

All I can say is it must be grace.

Heaven is like a Symphony

I don't quite recall how we got on the topic, but I was talking to my first period class about how we will experience Heaven differently.  My reference was to the idea that Heaven will be experienced as deeply as we allow Christ into our lives now.  To be sure, Heaven will be fantastic, beyond anything that I can imagine.  When we get there (if we get there) we won't be comparing our Heaven and wanting somebody else's Heaven.

One of the students didn't understand what I was saying.  How could we experience Heaven differently?  Will we each have our own Heaven?  It was about this point in time that I wondered why I brought this topic up, since it didn't have a lot of bearing on the subject at hand.

Then the Holy Spirit (He gets the credit/blame, anyhow) provided the perfect analogy for me in the situation.

"Heaven is like a symphony."  I said it and I liked it, the richness of a symphony and the depth of Heaven.  I went on to briefly explain that we could all go to the same symphony but some of us would appreciate it more.  Perhaps someone knows more about music and they would be able to understand and love aspects of the symphony that others might not notice.  We are all at the same symphony, but we are able to experience it in different ways.

His face seemed to lighten in understanding.  I, on the other hand, was particularly pleased with this off the cuff analogy.  However, I know it had little to do with me...

The Lord provides.  Thank the Lord He provides!

The Gift of Winter

Snow in the Swiss Alps

When did snow become a drudgery?  I'm sitting in my classroom, grading papers, trying to let Pandora play music uninterruptedly and outside snow is gently falling.  It has been fluttering down for a few hours now and it looks peaceful.  Instead of an empty classroom, I should be in a cozy living room, warming my chilled fingers on a cup of hot chocolate, and watching the snow design an intricate blanket for the earth.  

This used to be a delight.  The arrival of snow was once something longed for, something wanted.  Now I seem to view it as a necessary evil, the consequence of living in a northern state, a sort of Purgatory on earth.  Yet only a few days ago I was able to witness first hand the disappointment of my 4 year old nephew when the snow melted.  He was debating other things and realized he was losing so he changed the subject.  Whining and with such a sad face that you would want to quickly give him whatever he desired, he told his mother that the snow wasn't there anymore.  In his short lifetime he had only been through a couple winters and they still held a deep excitement for him.  It amazed me briefly.  I had begun to assume that everyone was as unimpressed and pessimistic about the snow as I was.  My nephew, though, was viewing snow through a gaze of wonder and awe.

When did snow become something I disliked instead of something I anticipated?  I always thought it was when I was required to help with outside chores and I realized that snow and slush make carrying 5 gallon pails of corn remarkably difficult.  I used to don snowpants, gloves, and a hat and go roll in the snow, make snowmen, and just relish in the cool air nipping at my nose.  Now I am more concerned in keeping my feet dry and how quickly I can dash from my car to the warmth of a building.  Much of the wonder of winter has been zapped from my life.  It is there, in brief glimpses of soft snow settling on window sills or the sunlight enhancing the sparkle of the icicles forming at the edge of the roof.  There is a cold sort of beauty that I like with winter, but the moments I rejoice in it are few or only when I am separated from the elements by a windshield or window.

That is my present goal--to embrace the beauty of winter and delight in it.  I plan to begin with putting my things in my car and then, perhaps for only a few seconds, tilting my head back and feeling the snowflakes kiss my face and melt at the brazenness of their touch.  Then I will drive (carefully) home and try to embrace the gift of winter.  Everything is a gift, right?  Today the Lord is offering me the chance to live and experience another winter day.  For all my aged and weary 23 year old bones know, this could be my last winter.

Sensibly Sensitive?

Some words can be used in either a positive or a negative way, depending on the particular situation.  One such word, I believe, is "sensitive."

"Well, he is such a sensitive guy.  He brought me soup when I didn't feel well...."

"You are always so sensitive.  I say one little thing and you start crying."

Yes, I know the context varies greatly but sensitive can be seen both as a desirable characteristic or something that one should try to curb or diminish in oneself.

I have become very sensitive to Halloween and to evil.  That is not to say that I am perfect, that I never do anything bad, or that I have a sixth sense that allows me to sense evil people.  I think, rather, that my sensitive seems to be highlighted simply because so many have become desensitized to evil. 

Just because I dislike something or have a sensitivity to it doesn't immediately mean that it would be impermissible for anybody else to enjoy it or for it to not be a vice.  However, the culture's love affair with evil and violence is sickening.  We are conditioning ourselves to not react to things that we should react to.

My hometown has seemed to really dive into celebrating Halloween over the last few years.  When I was younger I was used to seeing the sheets transformed into ghosts, the jack-o-lantern bags filled with leaves, and the fake cobwebs stretched across the decks of different houses in town.  I will admit I could fall into the category of being overly sensitive but the town has seemed to change for the worse. 

Last year, several houses had dramatic scenes staged on their front lawns.  One house we would drive past on the way to Mass and the scene was horrific, even if it was very obvious that it was fake.  The sheet covered mannequins had blood stains and were positioned in different ways.  The most memorable pose to me was of an elderly lady, complete with walker, with a man coming up behind her armed with a chainsaw.  I saw it for weeks and it disgusted me.  One Sunday on the way home with just my mom, I saw it and I just started to sob.  People thought it was fine, humorous even, to stage vicious murders in their front yards.  It literally hurt my heart and I felt sick. 

This year I have battled within myself the desire to look and see their annual bloodbath and yet not wanting to feel sick again.  The glimpses I've had revealed someone wielding a sword and one quick glance left me convinced that someone was being tortured on an operating table...but then I was never certain and I was too divided to actually study the scene when we drove by.

I just don't understand the enticement to evil.  Why is it permissible to glorify the most sadistic acts simply because it is Halloween?  I don't believe that seeing a lawn display of fake murder will make the children of the town desire to go kill people.  However, I firmly believe that seeing this, repeatedly, and with the view that this is all in good fun, does something to our hearts.  My heart is already stony enough without needing to view funny mock crimes that I don't at present find particularly funny. 

That sick feeling in the pit of my stomach was not the result of squeamishness or an overactive imagination.  I think it had some connection with just receiving Our Lord in Mass.  Perhaps it was His Heart aching within mine.  Think of the incongruities of this picture: Our Lord, having suffering and died for us, gazing at us with infinite love as we laugh at things that completely strip the human person of their dignity.  It doesn't praise the goodness of humanity or the goodness of God.  It instills fear and not love.  It brings sickness, not health.

So am I sensitive?  Yes and no.  Sometimes I run over other people and disregard their feelings in the most insensitive ways.  Other times I begin to cry at the drop of a hat.  A sensitivity to evil, though, seems like a good thing.  This is not to mean fearfulness or anxiousness.  Yet a perception to what is not of the Lord can certainly work to draw you nearer to what is of the Lord. 

Who had the most sensitive heart in the world?  Our Lord.  May this stony heart became a new heart, a heart of flesh.  And may St. Michael the Archangel defend us in this battle that rages on earth and help bring us to the glorious victory found in Heaven.

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.   

White martyrs

Will we have martyrs in the United States soon?  I cannot say, if we are speaking about red martyrs.  Some have been called dramatic if they claim martyrdom will be present in our "land of the free and home of the brave" because we have the Constitution and freedom.  With the HHS mandate fiasco, I have no doubt that freedoms we have hitherto taken for granted will now need to be fought for.  The fight, indeed, has already begun.

It is not the same in the US as it is in other countries.  Many countries have it far worse than we do.  But I cannot help but look at them and wonder if we will not soon follow suit.

This article about an archbishop in Belgium nearly breaks my heart.  I have realized in recent years that I have developed a heart for the Church and her leaders.  Pope Francis was merely announced and I fell in love with him.  This archbishop in Belgium is calm in the face of such evil and I cannot help but feel my heart ache for him.  We are not always faced with such blatant evil or display of sin.  Nevertheless, if we are to encounter it, we should be of such spiritual fortitude that we might respond like this brave shepherd.

http://www.lifesitenews.com/news/video-topless-activists-attack-brussels-archbishop-again

Speaking of white martyrs, I would like to voice my belief that Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI is, in my humble book, a white martyr.  From the moment he was elected pope he seemed to be hated.  Even now, every compliment of Pope Francis seems to be given with the double intent of backhanding Benedict.  It is hard for me to face a classroom of young people when I know they dislike me, are bored with me, or have uttered unkind things about me.  Yet Pope Benedict was able to face the world without shrinking when most of the media was seeking to demonize him and the Catholic Church.  Instead he helped present the love of Christ and a witness of simple humility that inspires me.

True Romance

I am a romantic.  Secretly, yet not too secretly.  My students would probably be surprised, people who know me casually would probably be surprised, but in my heart of hearts I am a sappy romantic.  I enjoy romantic movies (this meaning North and South, Pride and Prejudice, and Jane Eyre (yes that last one is Gothic romantic, in my mind) not more modern romantic movies like the Titanic.).  Despite my "sensible" nature (in quotes because this is what I would prefer to think of myself, not what is necessarily true), I love the feeling in my stomach when I know the couple will end up together and that they will be madly in love. 

For example:
(Skip to 2:45)

 
That clip just fills my romantic heart with joy.  Laugh if you wish, reader, but I was made for a wildly romantic love.  And you were, too.  I just too often think only of Mr. Thornton as the lead character instead of Our Lord.  What a far more intense love Jesus has for me than any other man ever could.

Our Lord proves His love for me over and over again, even though it is not necessary.  My existence is proof of His enduring love but He desires to delight my heart.  A brief story to illustrate how He does so.

On Thursday evening I was planning to go to a Theology on Tap at a local ale house (sounds so much better than a bar, aye?).  Social outings are always a feat for me because it takes a great deal of personal convincing (as well as telling other people that I will be there so as to make it necessary for me to actually make an appearance) for me to arrive at anything beyond Mass after school.  Since I do not live in town, I need to stay at school for a couple extra hours if I go to any events in the evening.  It isn't really that inconvenient, there is certainly enough work for me to do, it is just difficult when I sometimes feel like collapsing into a bed at 3:30 pm. 

Anyway...I was going to go to the Theology on Tap but I left school a bit late.  The event was to begin at 7 pm and I left only 10 minutes to get there.  I was tired, hungry, and running late.  Driving downtown I got mixed up about which street it was on and it was making me even later.  At about 7:10 I was pulling into the parking lot only to find it full.  So I drove out, down the street, and came back.  I was starting to convince myself to go home, eat, and sleep.  That sounded more appealing to me every second.  I began to plan what I would say the next day if someone asked me why I didn't show up. 

Looping around the parking lot I still didn't find any spots.  I decided to take one more turn about the lot.  "Lord, what do you want me to do?"  The tension was that I felt like I should go yet I wanted to just go home.  I saw a man was talking on a cell phone at the back of an apartment building.  Seeing me, he began to point.  I was confused.  Then I realized that the spot he was pointing to was for a business that was closed at this point in the evening.  I pulled into the spot, got out, and the man waved and smiled at me.  For a moment I thought he was one of the people that I would be meeting there, but I soon realized they were two separate buildings. 

Walking into the ale house I was laughing inside.  The Lord helped me find a spot.  More importantly, the Lord was able to quickly answer my prayer in a very tangible way.  I asked Him what I was to do and He had a man point to a parking spot for me.  It didn't leave too much to wonder about.  The whole evening was a blessing.  Afraid that I would walk in late, I entered the establishment to find that many of the people were still getting their drinks.  When they began to move into another room for the talk, a couple of people waited for me to get my drink.  Everything was working perfectly.  The talk of the night was excellent and I was able to socialize afterwards. 

The Lord provided for me.  Driving home that night I was filled with thankfulness.  He knows what He is working with.  It is hard for me to break out of my shell but the Lord desires it of me.  Nevertheless, He helps do some of the breaking. 

The little gifts He offers to me are sometimes dismissed or received with a sense of entitlement.  While I build dreams of romantic proposals or fantastic encounters, He is offering to me His heart.  I acknowledge it briefly, perhaps, and then sit and wait impatiently for the day when I will receive the affections of some Prince Charming.  This is an exaggeration, but not as much as it should be.  I am still very much of the world.  Knowing that Christ alone can fill me, I still try to run after the fulfillment that society tries to offer to me. 

Sometimes it takes a random stranger pointing out a parking space at a bar for me to begin to think that the Lord is in love with me.  Am I still longing for marriage?  Yes.  Do I still hope for some romantic swept-off-my-feet love?  Of course.  Despite all that, my desire is to desire the Lord more and more and to realize that He alone can provide the true love that I so desperately need.

Making Excuses with Moses

Moses and I might as well be twins.  Yes, I am aware of the historical, ethnic, and cultural difficulties associated with that type of relation, but it is very true.  Moses and I both balk at what the Lord asks of us and then we make excuses.  Not just one excuse that can be neatly answered, but multiple.  And if we run out of excuses, we start re-using the old ones, just in case they appear any stronger after a period of neglect.  I don't even need to alter much to make the excuses of Moses my own.

Granted Moses faced a bit more of a challenging task then I do.  He was saved from infanticide, raised in Pharaoh's house, sent into exile after killing an Egyptian, and called by God from a burning bush to march his people (that he never really lived with) out of slavery and into a Promised Land.  No big deal, right?  I, on the other hand, am simply told to be the best teacher I can be, proclaim the truth without fear of the consequences, and become of a disciple for the Lord.  When placed in that light, Moses had very good reason to throw up excuses while my position has a much weaker foundation for it.

Q: "Who am I that I should...?" (Ex. 3:11)
A: "But I will be with you..."
Q: "If...they ask me, 'What is his name?' what shall I say to them?"
A: "I AM who I AM."

Excuse: "But behold, they will not believe me or listen to my voice..." (Ex. 4: 1)
Reply: "Do not say, 'I am only a youth'; for to all to whom I send you you shall go, and whatever I command you you shall speak.  Be not afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord." (Jer. 1: 7-8)
Excuse: "Oh, my Lord, I am not eloquent..."
Reply: "Who has made man's mouth?  Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind?  Is it not I, the Lord?  Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak."

Final plea: "Oh, my Lord, send, I pray, some other person." (Ex 4: 13)

This final plea is sometimes what I find myself reduced to.  Just send anyone but me, Lord.  I think of others who are clearly more qualified for the job than me.  I wonder how the Lord could make such a large mistake, could have overlooked their finer qualities and overlooked my giant deficiencies.  This feeling of "Please, Lord, someone else!" isn't just with large missions, but is with lesser things.  When there is gossip taking place and I feel uncomfortable, but I don't want to be the one to squelch it.  If I see something that is wrong but wish I hadn't seen it so that I could simply be naïve. 

When I was offered the teaching job I felt incredibly inadequate.  I had just finished convincing people quite a bit older than me that I was the person they wanted for the job.  Then I was offered the job and I had a more difficult time convincing myself that I was the person for the job.  In fact, I began to compile a mental list of people that would be better at teaching than I would be.  I thought of intelligent priests I knew, passionate young adults filled with both knowledge and fire, and young religious sisters who would be able to articulate the faith in an eloquent manner.  Then I thought of my own abilities and talents.  The list seemed to be woefully short.  I hadn't lied to the interviewers...I had simply spoken with more confidence than I actually had.  Who would hire someone who said, "I am pretty sure that I can do this job, I think.  _________ and ___________ would be perfect for this job but they aren't available.  At the very least, I think I could be a decent babysitter for high schoolers.  Hire me.  Please."  That probably wouldn't be sufficient.

Instead of relying on my own incredible speaking abilities (which I don't have) or my limitless intellect (again, fictional), I was forced to rely on the Lord.  Of course, I failed in that but I was forced to try more than if I was gifted with all that was required of me.  I knew that I could not do the task properly on my own.  However, I did know that the Lord could use me to do His will. 

How did I know this?

Past experience, yes.  Bible stories, yes.  Witness of the saints, yes. 

Abraham.
Moses.
David.
Our Lady.
Padre Pio.
St. Margaret Mary Alacoque.
St. Faustina.

It is not my job to tell the Lord that He has chosen the wrong person or that I am under-qualified.  He already knows my gifts and He knows my weaknesses.  I am convinced that often the Lord chooses people with major weaknesses so that it may be evident to the world that He is doing the work and it is not his/her own skill.

The requirement is a wholehearted yes.  Or at least an openness to being used for God's will.  It is saying, "Please, Lord, choose somebody more qualified" and then going to talk to Pharaoh anyway when the Lord tells you to.  You are required to be uncertain of the future yet entirely certain of He who already knows the future.  It is surrendering your weaknesses to the bridegroom on the altar of sacrifice and welcoming into yourself the bread of the angels, the strength from heaven, the necessary graces.  It is allowing His to overflow in you and into those in your life.  It is hands wide open, entrusting everything to Our Lord even when we don't know what that everything even is.

Moses and I both question the Lord and ask Him to choose someone else to do the hard work.  Yet God is unrelenting. 

He crafts our souls, breathes life into us, nourishes us, and then poses a question to us that is hard to refuse. 

"Trish, I created you to reveal an aspect of Myself that nobody else can reveal.  I have a plan for you, I have graces for you, I have a mission for you.  Will you reveal Me to the world and be a part of salvation history?"


Whoa. 

How can I refuse?

One airport smile at a time

I love the sea of humanity that is found swimming in airports across the world.  People remain far more interesting than we give them credit for.  Most of the time I claim to be too busy to people-watch and oftentimes I don't go to places swarming with people, so as to keep with my hermit-like tendencies.  But the airport is one of the very best places to watch people.

There is a strange joy that fills me when I am able to be smiley and joyful in a sea of people.  Some are walking by, oblivious to the world around them, others look harried and rushed, others couldn't care less that you exist, and the categories stretch onward.  Yet I am struck by their humanity.  Perhaps that doesn't explain anything at all. 

Let me see.  There was the woman with the small child that sat next to me briefly at one of the gates.  She was beautiful, in a tired, motherly sort of way and looked a bit older than I would have expected.  Her daughter was gorgeous, smiling and capturing the attention of others around her.  Her mother was attentive to her, making certain that she didn't wander into the dangerous traffic flowing past the different gates.  The girl was learning to walk and would run from her mother....fall on the floor...begin again with as quick of steps as she could muster...fall to the floor...start crawling away.

Then there was the man who took a seat in a corner on the ground.  He arranged his electronics in front of himself and seemed fairly absorbed in them.  The little girl saw him from a few feet away, looked at him with interest, and began the journey to him.  Stopping a little bit away from him, she looked at him until he noticed her.  The smile spread quickly across his face and she mirrored him.

A woman stops in the middle of the walkway, trying to figure out where she is going.  She is completely unaware that a little car that transports the elderly/disabled around the airport is right behind her.  And is laying on its horn.  For a couple seconds she is completely still, lost within herself, and the man is beeping the horn, mere inches behind her.  Finally she notices and steps out of the way.

The three men seated next to me at the gate in Chicago are discussing their line of work.  It revolves around computer or system programming for some company.  They travel often.  Most of the time is spent complaining about their bosses or comparing hotel rooms that they are set up in.  One man often stays at the Marriott and another gets the Country Inn and Suites.  Apparently the Holiday Inn is considered low class, too.

A young woman is bound for Tennessee to visit a college.  She briefly inquires if she is at the right gate to a middle-aged woman near her.  That was the entrance into a conversation that lead to the couple's little girl chattering away to the young lady and talking until their seats in the airplane disrupted them.

Pilots walk by in uniform, pulling behind them expertly packed luggage.  A flock of flight attendants regroup before heading to their next destination.  A worker sweeps up some debris from the carpet and smiles at me when I catch her eye.  A couple walks by, each pushing a stroller, trying to get where they need to go on time.  A woman gazes critically at the ticket counter and remarks about the poor design to me...and to the lady at the desk when she finally gets there.  The lady says a man probably designed it.

Over the intercom a voice announces that first class passengers can now board.  Brian Regan quotes flood my mind as I watch people crushing each other to run out of the plane, as a fervor fills people to get to where they need to go with no mind for what others may be doing, as the desk asks for people to check their oversized luggage planeside.

A man behind me keeps cooing to something/someone and I narrow the options down to a dog or a child.  He has a dog.  I smile at the airport security and anticipate what they will ask of me.  Trying to catch her eye, I smile at the lady at the desk who seems to be a little frazzled yet kind.  I inquire about how his/her day is going when a security officer asks how my day is. 

The days I spent in the airport I felt happy and kind.  With this joy, I felt a desire to spread it and be kind to others.  At different points I realized that while I wasn't changing the world in some huge way, hopefully my mere smile was encouraging someone or speaking words I didn't know or have.  I often wonder, "Do they know I follow Christ?  Can they tell?  Do they think something is different about me?  Do they notice?"  This should be me every day, not just when I feel like being happy or kind.  But it is a good reminder.  I need to look for the humanity dwelling within the crowd teeming with people.  And in seeing the person, to affirm their individuality and their personhood with the only thing I can in a one second encounter: a smile.

God can use you.....yes, despite that quality or tendancy

Reading the Bible is a source of encouragement.

Really.  And I don't necessarily mean huge spiritual insights and an experience of the infinite.  Yes, that can occur and it is wonderful if it does.

What I mean is this: Scripture paints pictures of people with really big flaws...and then shows us how God uses them.  I am more and more convinced that if God can use Abraham, Jacob, and Adam, then He can use me.  These men all had their strong points but they also had a sizable amount of flaws.

Today we continued to read through Genesis and sometimes I almost laugh when I think of these stories.  Jacob tricks Isaac to get the blessing designated for the first born.  Rebekah helps Jacob escape the murderous rage of Esau.  Jacob goes to his uncle Laban's and falls in love with Rachel.  The seven years spent working for the privilege to marry Rachel pass in a flash.  Jacob is secretly wed to Leah.  Jacob, upset with the trickery, works another seven years for the chance to marry Rachel.  God sees that Rachel is loved but Leah is not and so He blesses Leah's womb.  Rachel remains barren.  The sisters start to fight, giving their maids to Jacob so they may have children through them.  Then Jacob's children fight because he has a favorite.  The favorite ends up being taken and sold to passers-by and Jacob mourns him for dead.  No worries, though, because Joseph can interpret dreams and is, after a couple missteps, second in command in Egypt.  Then he saves the Egyptians and his entire family from starvation.  After toying with them for a bit, Joseph forgives his brothers and they all live happily ever after....until a pharaoh decides to impose infanticide on the numerous Israelites.

Jacob definitely wasn't perfect.  God blessed him and God punished him.  As one reads the story, it is almost impossible to not think of all of the difficulties they are creating for themselves.  Two wives?  And sisters?  Of course there will be discord!  Then a battle with childbearing?

The squabbles are almost laughable until you remember how you battle over such inanities as doing the dishes or taking out the trash.

Yes, if the Lord can bring about a Redeemer through the bumbling ways of Christ's fore-bearers, then He can most certainly use you to do His will.

Never fear, we serve a God who can write straight with our crooked lines.

I Desire a Heavenly Mindset

Last night, with the adventures of homecoming safely a week behind me, I found myself reminiscing about my own high school homecoming week.  It was quite easy to slip into romanticizing that time in my life because there is no risk that I will be caused to repeat it again.  My memories centered on the competition of the week, the class rivalries that emerged in full force, the class skits performed in which each teacher was fair game, and the exhilaration that filled the entire school for one precious week.  Throughout the week we would have games each day and the competition was fierce.  Seniors almost always won but it was the goal of each grade to produce an upset, one in which only obnoxious cheating would result in the triumph of the seniors.  My junior year was probably the most competitive.  The skits were hilarious and all of our favorite (and not-so-favorite) teachers were impersonated and analyzed.  (Note: As a teacher now, this is always a fear of mine when the students are given the chance to make fun of the teachers.  I sit in the gym, waiting anxiously, hoping that I wasn't memorable enough or disliked enough to become the focus of students' laughter.)  My junior year we won the "Olympics" and the triumph was palpable.  We gathered in our class sections in the gym bleachers and would chant our anthems. "J-U-N I-O-R...Junior, Junior, Junior!!!"  "0-8 0-8 0008"  The shouting echoed off the walls of the gym.  That memory is one of my favorites--the class anthems, the school spirit, the energy, the competition. 

I can almost trick myself into believing that that experience was high school.  It was not.  High school wasn't traumatizing for me, but it wasn't the best experience of my life.  I liked school and I was involved in numerous activities: choir, band, volleyball, track statistician, plays, oral interp, and TATU to name some.  It was a great time of development...but it wasn't perfect.

That is one of my problems.  I am excellent at romanticizing the past and thinking of it in the best ways.  This doesn't hold true for everything but for many things it does.  I think back (way back!) to college and I am able to make it free from any trials or difficulties.  I think, "Trish, do you remember that time that your job was to read theology books and write papers?  When you hung out with friends several times each week?  When you felt like you were changing the world by being in the pro-life movement?  Remember when you went to New Mexico and twice to Honduras for mission trips?  Remember traveling around Europe?  Wasn't that the absolute best time of your life?"  And looking at all of those adventures and blessings, I am convinced that I should be there and not here.  What is very easy to overlook is the fatigue, the stress of completing two theses in one semester (even if that was my fault entirely), trying to finish the endless stream of homework, wanting to hang out with friends but not being able to, worrying that we wouldn't fundraise enough for the mission trips, the excessive tiredness.  All of that is easy to forget in the quest to make college "the best years of my life." 

The point is this: the past is easy to love because we don't face its challenges in the present.  Of course there are difficulties in my present life but those are more keenly felt because they are the present.  In high school I was left with this feeling that nobody understood me.  The friendships I had weren't rooted in Christ and therefore often seemed shallow.  In college I had the blessing of making those friendships and seeing how quickly they blossomed simply because we were rooted in the same soil.  Now I am able to see the beauty of those friendships even though I don't find myself immediately surrounded by them anymore.  Instead I see from afar those friends continue to grow and impact the world.  They are getting married, they are having babies, they are continuing on with their lives.  As for myself, I am growing and changing, even if at a slower pace than I would like.  The past was necessary to make me who I am today, but now I need to live in today.  I need to live in today with all of its trials and difficulties--with the sophomores that won't listen to me, with the seniors that are quick to roll their eyes at my statements, with the other teachers that don't quite know how to take me, with the desire to live out my vocation yet being caught in a seemingly indefinite waiting place. 

Perhaps instead of gazing jealously at the past, I should look with anticipation to the future.  Imagine Heaven.  All of the beautiful people I know, all of the gorgeous places I've seen, and all of the lovely experiences I've been blessed with, all rolled into one and magnified greatly--this is Heaven.  When I focus on that goal, the end prize, the eternal life with God in Heaven, then the pains and irritations of today seem to pale in significance. 

“The Glory of the Lord, therefore, is the super eminently luminous beauty of divinity beyond all experience and all descriptions, all categories, a beauty before which all earthly splendors, marvelous as they are, pale into insignificance.”  The Evidential Power of Beauty

"Really?!" Semi-Awkward, Semi-Hilarious, Entirely my Life

Sometimes I have to look at events that occur and simply ask, "Really?!"  It doesn't have to be that huge of an event but sometimes the way things work, or don't, is almost comical.

Take today, for example.  My Scripture class learned what the phrase "nakedness of his father" actually meant.  For the record, I had no intention of revealing this little tid-bit to my classes.  I didn't last year, and I had every intention to continue that trend this year.  Nevertheless, I decide to tell them when I learned the other teacher had told his classes what it meant.  I figured it would prevent any questions about it arising later but now I think it never would have surfaced.  The topic was broached and passed over in my third period class.  The idea that Ham committed incest with his mother was repulsive, as evidenced by the looks on their faces, but I moved on fairly quickly to the story of the Tower of Babel.  Class moved slower for my sixth period class because I had to give a lecture about respect to my students.  With a mere ten minutes left of class I was nearing the time to reveal to them what the euphemism actually meant.

Lo and behold, in walks my principal.  For a brief moment I considered bypassing the phrase and going on to the Tower of Babel.  Was it really that important anyway?  What point did it prove?  Despite my hesitation, I committed myself to proceeding in the intended manner because the presence of my principal shouldn't alter what I teach.  This class is naturally a more reactive class so I wasn't surprised when the murmuring began.  You can only tip-toe around the matter for so long before it is necessary to plunge in and just say what it means.  He appeared quite interested as I tried to guide my students around this delicate event.  I placed my emphasis largely on what Ham was saying by this action.  Time soon ran out and the bell rang.

He just couldn't come when I talked about the flood, when we read different Scripture passages from the Old and New Testaments about the flood, when we read about the covenant that God makes with Noah, or when we drew pictures about the different covenants.  Today I actually managed to vary the class and incorporate different teaching aspects.  Yet all that was seen was a ten minute lecture at the end of class about how Ham had relations with his mother.

I'm not sure if I am more horrified by the events or if I simply find it awkwardly hilarious.

All I could think when the door handle turned and I saw my principal walk in was, "Really?  Really!"

On the plus side--perhaps he learned something and I subtly proved that I do have a degree in Theology that has afforded me unique knowledge about Sacred Scripture.  Or I am simply ruining my students' opinions of the characters of the Bible.

It could have been worse, right?

The Art of Going Deeper

You think you know something.  And then you find out that you really had no clue.

Yesterday my Scripture class was learning about the Fall of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.  Ever since taking an Old Testament Scripture class in college, I have had a deep love and appreciation for the Old Testament.  Perhaps my "love" isn't quite as passionate as it should be, but there are parts of the Old Testament that I will return to and soak in the goodness of salvation history.  The story of creation and the fall of man is one of those stories.

I was guiding them through Gen. 3 where the serpent began to wheedle his way into the innocent hearts of the first couple.  Reviewing the story again I was amazed by the goodness of God and the way He loved us from the beginning.  He asks little of us and when we fail to give Him that little, He is quick to promise redemption.

The serpent from his very first words is twisting the beauty and goodness of God and tries to portray Him as a harsh dictator.  "Did God say, 'You shall not eat of any tree of the garden?'"  Very quickly the loving generosity of God is portrayed as miserly withholding.  "You will not die.  For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."  He dares to blatantly contradict God yet he always operates under half-truths.  Adam and Eve do not die an immediate physical death.  Yet the death they undergo is of a far more detrimental sort--they die spiritually and face separation from God.

The serpent sows seeds of doubt in the hearts of Adam and Eve.  "Does God really have your best interests in mind?  Is He holding out on you?  Can you really trust Him?"  They begin to wonder if perhaps everything they never knew they wanted could be found within the fruit of this tree.  Perhaps God, all-good, all-giving, all-knowing, perhaps He cannot be fully trusted.

They buy stock in that lie and it turns out to be the worst thing they could have possibly done.  The facade crashes around them and the lie becomes apparent.  As they realize they are naked and have fallen from grace, I can only imagine that the serpent did not remain silent.  At this point he was probably whispering to them how disappointed God was with them, how things could never be the same, and that their sin was irreparable, unforgivable, too big for the mercy of God.

It struck me while I was speaking to them about these doubts that Satan whispered to our first parents, that we hear those same words, too.  I told them this.  But my realization was that when I was their age, I wouldn't have believed myself.  I would have claimed to not listen to Satan or to mistrust God or doubt His intentions.  When I was 15-16 years old I would have said I trusted God.

Now I am far closer to God and I am beginning to realize how little I trust Him.  I begin to see how I do listen to the voice of the enemy and how I doubt God's intentions, plans, and desires for my life.  When I was the age of my students I would have thought that I didn't doubt God because I was close to Him.  Now that I am closer to Him, I see that I doubt Him.  It is a beautiful mystery that in the spiritual life, the closer we come to the light (and I am by no means very close to holiness or this light) the more we can see our own darkness and imperfections.  We see places that need to be purified and cleansed where before we thought we were perfectly healed and whole.

So we delve deeper into the garden of our hearts.  We question why we run from the God who made us, loves us, and wills us into existence.  We realize that we are running from Him.  As we turn to hide and cover ourselves, we ask why we are ashamed and what needs covering.  When I taught Totus Tuus I would have little kids tell me that if they were Adam and Eve, they would have listened to God.  My response probably wasn't as delicate as it should have been--I told them that they would have done the exact same thing and that Adam and Eve made the choice on behalf of humanity.  My innocent little 3rd and 4th grade Totus Tuus children probably didn't understand that.  But if I reflect on my day and my life, I can see how nearly every day I have eaten the fruit and then run away from the sound of my Lord seeking after my heart so that he may simply be with me.  He comes to seek me out and forgive me and I run away, saying I am unforgivable.

Lord, help us to delve deeper.  Grant us the grace to dig beneath the surface and look past what we have assumed to be true.  Help me to trust in You with a genuine trust that will enable a wholehearted joyful surrender.

Simple Beauties

I like simplicity.  And I like beauty.  I am continually amazed by things that would be so easy to pass by or discount as being of little importance.  A simple cup of coffee from home on the way to work with the sun shining on the plains filled my heart with joy.  The Sacred Host exposed in vulnerable love as voices rise like incense to fragrance Our Lord's throne.  A glorious sunset that mixes the palette of colors into a never before seen array of splendor.  The simplicity of a humble priest who, with eyes closed in a concentration that must have been often etched upon Our Lord's face, raises his hand to absolve me from my sins.  The moment in the confessional when you say the Act of Contrition and you are struck for the first time by the words "but most of all because I have offended Thee, O God, who art all good..."  My heart desiring the simplicity of a human love that will rival all fiction and will lead me steadfastly to Heaven's embrace.  The conversations with dear sisters placed hundreds of miles away from me.  This song.  A beautiful red tomato freshly picked from the garden and an apple harvested from the nearby tree.  This picture:

A moment to stop, look around at the countryside, and breathe in a deep breath of crisp autumn air.  The silence, the peace, the luxury of looking across the land and seeing no human person in sight.  The knowledge that I am because He always is. 

Witnessing to Lived Faith

They were nearly in the palm of my hands.  Not all of them (that would be a miracle) but many of them.  For what seemed like the first time in the entire semester, this class seemed interested in what I had to say.  Gone were the faces etched with boredom.  They were replaced with genuine eye contact and interest.  I hadn't intended to launch into the discussion for an earlier class, but I had and it had gone well.  Now I was facing a more difficult to please class and the transition I used before wasn't clear.  I considered not even broaching the subject with them, but just continuing on with the class and ending early.

When I finally began to speak on it, it went better than expected.  I remember thinking at one time, "Lord, this is going great.  They are listening and the story is flowing well."  This was the best they had listened all year.  I was thrilled.

It struck me later as very interesting that what they listened to the best was what was most personal to me.  I've been talking to them about faith and reason for the past few days.  This particular class day I had reviewed the introduction to Lumen Fidei and we had explored what faith is and what faith isn't according to the encyclical.  I love theology.  But to them it is just another book, at times, that must be read and regurgitated.

I began to tell them that having faith doesn't mean that it will all be easy.  Yet regardless of the trials, faith is worth it and God desires to be in relationship with us.  Then I told them more in depth about my older sisters who are religious sisters.  I didn't try to white wash any difficulties or try to evoke pity in them.  Rather, I told them about how it was difficult for me to watch my sisters choose to leave me because they were following God.  My intention wasn't to highlight any strictness of the orders.  I wanted them to see that I understand sacrifice, being angry with God, and feeling like what is being asked of me is just too much.

This second class seemed to grasp it most fully.  A couple seemed near to tears but just about everyone was alert and listening.  I think it helped them realize my humanity.  Do I love the Lord?  Yes!  But even with this love and this desire to love, I still find myself balking at the sacrifices that are to be made.  While I often paint this as a past sacrifice, it is still an ongoing sacrifice.  I do not always think of the sacrifices but there are moments when the emotions are sharpened, the scab reopened, and the ache felt again.

Perhaps today they forgot everything that I said yesterday.  What I hope remains somewhere within them is the knowledge that life will be filled with sacrifices.  Will I choose to make them with Christ or without Him?  A life of Christian sacrifice is not easy.  Yet I do not think a life running from Him would be easy, either.  Life will arrive and demand things and people of us that we are not prepared to surrender.  Faith is knowing that Someone else cries with you and that Someone desires you infinitely more than you desired your lost love.

That is what makes life bearable.

They just report the facts...as they want you to know them

Yes, reader, these articles are fairly old.  The reason I only recently stumbled across them is because I do not turn to CNN for my news coverage.  Following are a few glimpses why.  

You could argue that I am being intentionally critical.  That would be true.  I am intentionally criticizing a news group for presenting the news in a biased way.  They probably pride themselves on their responsible journalism, but I find nearly each word tainted with the desire to misinform the public.  News groups, be they of radio, paper, or TV, have a large task: to bring the news to the people.  Yet how they do so will greatly influence how people act.  

Need an example?  President Obama got re-elected.  If you own the news, you can, in a way, own the people.  

This is why good Christian people are needed in the media circles.  Here is a shout out to all of my friends (and all the strangers) who are committed to accurately presenting the truth.  You are in the streets in a big way.

Vatican seeks to rebrand its relationship with science

"There have been no signals yet as to whether Pope Francis will bring about a softening of the Vatican's stance on issues such as condom-use as means to prevent suffering and early death."
http://www.cnn.com/2013/04/11/world/pope-vatican-science/index.html?iid=article_sidebar

I attack this sentence (one among many from this article that could be lambasted) because of how they phrase it.  They wonder if Pope Francis will save people from suffering and early death.  Their solution: condoms.  By saying it in this way, they present the picture that the Church cares little for the sufferings of others.  It completely neglects the fact that the Church works tirelessly to ease the sufferings of people.  They just refuse to accept the Church's moral stance against condoms.  
P.S. The headline?  Please.  The Church helped develop science.  Some of the best scientists belonged to the Church.  Some were even priests.  And this was long before Pope Francis.  Sometimes news groups are so...medieval about this topic.

Humble pope has complicated past

"Pope Francis is being painted as a humble and simple man, but his past is tinged with controversy surrounding topics as sensitive as gay marriage and political atrocities."

Controversy.  Whatever will we do?!  Most of the Church's teachings on human sexuality are considered to be controversial.  It isn't the Church's fault that society disagrees with them.  The controversy comes from an increasingly pagan society.

"Don't be surprised, Girard said, if the new pope shows flexibility on contraceptives, but don't expect him to budge on the Catholic Church's opposition to abortion."

Apparently they do not understand contraceptives and the Church's reasons for being against them.  This is more wishful thinking.

"With a front-page counterpunch, the president said the church possessed "attitudes reminiscent of medieval times and the Inquisition."  The bill eventually became law, and Francis left the battlefield defeated.  But some supporters hold it up as evidence of his traditionalist views."

What would be really terrible would be to have a pope who didn't follow the tradition of the Church.  Of course this is proof of traditional views.  He is a faithful Catholic.  Hence why he got elected pope.

http://www.cnn.com/2013/03/14/world/americas/argentina-pope-profile/index.html?iid=article_sidebar

Catholics: 5 ways for Francis to move forward

"The issue of gay rights has proved deeply controversial within the Catholic Church, and led to accusations from activists that it remains mired in the past rather than looking toward a more inclusive future."

Again with the controversy.  It is an interesting concept that truth ceases to be truth simply because of the passing of years.  This comment is a result of a misunderstanding of the Church's teaching on homosexuality.  Realistically, I don't think they desire to know the truth.  They don't like the truth anyway.

"Meanwhile, 50% of the world's Catholics remain excluded from the highest echelons of the church because of their sex -- and Filipino Rummel Pinera says it's time the church acknowledged the importance of women in its history, and its future."

Those are pretty deep statistics.  I also believe that it is time for the Church to stop excluding men from having babies.  It is extremely unfair.  The Church HAS acknowledge the importance of women.  Read JP2.  Read Chesterton.  Read Jesus!  Go in and look at the Mass attendance on the average week day...or weekend.  Look at the women helping with the parish life.  

"We're living in a world that has become a global village, [and] in this global village of ours, women now can't just be fence-sitters or nannies," he said. "Women now know that they were created as co-equal of men."

I'm not sure I've ever seen "co-equal" before.  Regardless of that fact, women are the equals of men...they just aren't the same.  It is interesting that the speaker seems to insinuate that in the past, women could just stay at home or be "fence-sitters" but now they have evolved into people who are now equal.  I take offense at how he says we women used to be.

"The Roman Catholic Church should become dynamic in this age, so that it can maintain the loyalty of its flocks and win many souls for God," he said.

Question: Will the Church win souls for God at the expense of Truth?  Can you really change what is accepted as truth and gain souls for Heaven?

"I think that the church needs to go back to a simple message which is to love each other and not care about what religion we are or what we believe in," she said.

I'm pretty certain the Church never had that message.  Yeah, I don't think the martyrs died so that we could walk around in a relativistic culture and say, "I don't care what you believe...I just love you."  Granted, saints loved people regardless of what they believed.  If you really want to "go back" you would encounter the Early Church.  They were evangelizers.  They spread the Gospel message.  They lived authentic Christian lives.  If that is the "go back" she is referencing, I believe she is correct.  But how can you "go back" to a stance the Church never held?  Simplicity.  Not to be confused with heresy.

http://www.cnn.com/2013/03/14/world/irpt-pope-priorities/index.html?iid=article_sidebar


Thanks for reading my little rants.  Remember: you cannot trust everything you read.  Except, of course, this blog. :)  We need people desiring the truth in all walks of life.

I'm not the only one speaking out (to my whole 10 person audience) about the media bias.  Lila Rose is, too.
Check it out.

Another Weary Day in the Battlefield...

It has been a rough day and a long week.  One of those weeks where I look at how many months it is until summer break and I realize that I have only just begun.  My thoughts should still be turned to those of excitement and eager anticipation of the events yet to come.  Maybe I feel so worn down because I've been lacking in prayer.  Perhaps I'm simply tired.

At times I feel this weariness deep down in my bones that shouldn't be found within the person of only 23 years.  I long for Heaven.  At times, I seem to ache for it.  I'm weary of life.  Already this year I've had my fill of teenagers and they are the source of my job.  I'm tired of rolling eyes, softly muttered comments, overly talkative classes, looks of pure boredom, and the list continues.

Last week I asked my students if they would rather work a job where they make lots of money but hate it or a job where they make more than enough to survive but have to forgo fancy extras but love their job.  In one class the majority chose to work a job they hate so that they could have all the things they want, take nice vacations, and retire early.  I always figured I would rather work a job I love but this week confirmed it.  Sitting at the dinner table, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep for a week, I thought of what a horrible existence it would be to spend 8 hours at a job I hate, spend the rest of the day tired and dreaming of sleep, only to wake up and do it all over again.  Not for nine months but for the entire year.  Where is life in that?  Where is the time to actually live and be with people?

I do not hate my job.  On some days, I love it.  On days like today, I go to the chapel, beg the Lord for help, and return to the street/battlefield/classroom.  And this idea begins to grow in the back of my mind--what if the Lord desires something else from me?  Maybe He doesn't want me to teach next year but rather to......  And I draw a blank because there isn't exactly an application for "wife and mother".  [And I would cringe at the thought of answering that kind of help wanted ad. "Help wanted: woman to marry and rear children.  Will be paid in a decent house, being woken up in the middle of the night to feed/change/rock child(ren), and beautiful drooling smiles.  Mail application and sample of chocolate chip cookies to....."]

Lord, I pray, I'm lonely.  I want a "kindred spirit" or a "bosom friend" with whom I may pass through this world.  What a feeling it is to be surrounded by people all day long and yet desire to be alone, but not truly alone, just away from the maddening crowd.  Sometimes I blame God because I feel that He should have made me more adaptable to this world.  My heart shouldn't get hurt so easily by a few rude looks or a handful of subtle attacks.  I shouldn't long for solitude so much if I was to have a profession that deals with so many people.  I know God didn't make me for this world but it seems I could have been made with slightly more skills suited to life on Earth.

Convents sound like beautiful places at this point.  Not because I believe they are easy but because in many ways my heart feels very much aligned with it.  I like to be quiet and by myself.  I enjoy work and prayer.  I would love a community of sisters.  My two older sisters in religious life have made me quite aware that there is more to monastic life than that.  Nevertheless, I desire it.  Yet not the vocation itself.  I desire marriage.  I am a contemplative thrown into the world who seems to not find time to pray.  I am a fish thrown out of the water and I refuse to admit that the water is my source of life.

I'm unsure if any of this makes sense.  All I know is that today I nearly cried during a class and I've thought several times over the past couple days, "What if I didn't come back next year?"  My spiritual director has been helping me find areas of hurt and bring healing to them.  We are trying to make my heart whole again.  Today I began to believe that teaching was simply destroying the whole process.

Maybe I love far too many ideals and not enough realities.  I love my students--as they should be.  Yet when faced with a teenage girl who is subtly mocking me in front of the class, I have to keep myself from crying tears of rage.  I love teaching--on the days when things goes perfectly and my students radiate with kindness and sincerity.

Heaven help me.  So if you are reading this, stop right now and say a prayer for me and my students.  We can definitely use it.  For all of those out there facing far more difficult battles in the streets, know that my little sufferings and prayers are with you.  And let's all get to Heaven so this can all just look like one inconvenient night in a hotel (thanks St. Teresa of Avila).

The Spider-slayer

He is the king of the yard as he runs around, playing with the random toys that are scattered where he last left them.  The dogs are a repeated amusement to him but he is most taken with the newest addition, the little unnamed puppy that seeks refuge in a lawn chair lying folded on the ground.  A few "nice touches" on her head, a few joyfully babbled words, and he is off to find a new occupation.  The red and yellow mini-car is the next adventure.  He climbs in and I go around to the other side, intent upon scaring him but failing in every way.  Instead, he observes me calmly and I ask if I can get in, despite the fact that age and science are completely against me.  Before he is able to respond, I see a spider crawling on the passenger side.  I mention it to him and he turns quickly to see it.  Even with the quick reflexes, the spider has evaded his gaze and is now on the outside of the car.  I expected him to be slightly frightened or disgusted.  Rather than running away, he pokes his head out the passenger window, sees the spider, and rapidly smashes it with his little hand.  He pulls it away and a leg or two remains squished to the toy.  The rest, I now see, is on his hand, parts of it still moving, as if trying to pull life back into itself and resurrect.  My reaction of disgust is again different from this little one's reaction.  He nonchalantly brushes the spider guts off his hand and sits back down in the car.  "Spiders are ucky."  I laugh in amazement.  "Spiders are ucky, Trish.  Spiders are ucky."  My little nephew, the spider-slayer.