Saint Raphael the Archangel, pray for us

Happy Feast of Archangels...most especially Saint Raphael!

I love Saint Raphael. He'd be in my top 5. Usually, when I bring his name up, people either think I'm talking about Gabriel or the great artist Raphael. Both are false. Clearly.

Let me explain a little bit about good ol' Ralph.

Saint Raphael came into my life about a year and half ago. I was going through some hard heart stuff, and this girl I barely knew gave me a little prayer book all about Archangel Raphael. I read it ferociously and it was as if I was being spoon fed every word from the mouth of God. It brought me such peace and joy. I immediately, knew Archangel Raphael had come into my life for a very specific reason.

Over the next few months, I could see him interceding for the healing of my heart. I could feel him guiding me and being a messenger of God in my daily life.

He helped me along many journeys and has shown me how to love like Love itself. I have felt his comfort and guidance in the past 9 months especially. He has become my friend.

Today, as I was driving through the city of Houston, on an undeniably perfect day, I looked up at the clear blue sky and I smiled...and not a smile I would normally just smile. I smiled because I knew that Archangel Raphael was guiding me on my journey. Today concludes a novena I've been praying. Looking back, the past 9 days have been so hard and I realized it today. Everything isn't "all better", but I have a renewed hope and trust in a God who loves me...so much so that he sends reminders of His love to me through the intercession of Archangel Raphael. He is a great "fixer of things", undoing the knots in my life so that I can love God and others better.

Take a few moments and read the Book of Tobit. I feel a lot like Sarah. I love Sarah. Her life sucked. She was picked on by people in her life. She had a broken heart....SEVEN times! A little extreme. She thought her life was over, she even wanted to end it at one point. She was at the end of her rope. Yet, she prayed. God heard her prayer and sent the Archangel Raphael to heal her and bring her the man he had set aside for her from the beginning. She had to suffer through a lot of heartache, and somehow she managed to keep praying, honestly and consistently. I'm sure she wanted to give up at times, and even when "Prince Charming" and Archangel Raphael did arrive, she was afraid to believe it. BUT, she followed the voice of God and did what she was told. She's a role model for me - faithfulness in the face of doubt and despair from her own heart and the voices of those around her. She inspires me to listen attentively to God's voice, even when it's a whisper...and in the times I can't hear him, to cling to what He has said.

Tobit is great too, he's Tobias' dad and Sarah's future father-in-law. They both pray at the same time and Raphael is sent to heal them both and bring Tobias and Sarah to each other in God's perfect timing. Click here to read the story.

Later on in the tale, once everyone is healed and married off and such, Raphael reveals to the people who he is. Click here to read that part of the story. You see, Raphael tells Tobit and Tobias to praise God in thanksgiving all the days of their lives. He tells me to do the same - to be grateful and gracious, centering my heart on God in all that I do. (I still pray with that Raphael prayer book every day.)

Yesterday, my question was "how do I love Jesus and put Him first?"

Raphael tells us how - pray, do what God tells you, and say thank you. It's as simple and as complicated as that.

Raphael is the messenger of God in the book of Tobit.

His name means "God Heals".
He is the patron of travelers, young people, lovers, happy meetings, joy, blind people, those with mental illness, doctors, healing, and even against nightmares.
He speaks truth that changes the heart of Tobias, casts our evil from Sarah to bring her healing, as well as heals the blindness of Tobit (a bird pooped in his eye).

Today, thank God for how He speaks to you and for the ways He has guided you. Know that at all times, He hears you. At all times, He is available. At all times, He is offering His healing love.  Ask Archangel Raphael to be your guide, to cure the blindness in your life, to teach you to pray and to bring you the powerful healing love you need.

Saint Raphael the Archangel, pray for us. 

"Beloved"

Today's big question:

How do you love Jesus and put Him first?

I read an entire book today in the Chapel. It's called "Life of the Beloved" by Nouwen. (If you are trying to answer the question above in your own life or are dealing at all with anything or you work are in the world but not "of" it, might I suggest it?) It's just about 150 pages, and yes I read the whole darn thing. I don't say it to boast about my reading skills or comprehension or what not. Okay, a little bit to brag, but not because I'm smart. Because I persevered through the frigid A/C that was blowing directly on me as I sat before my Lord. I'm learning a lot about perseverance lately, but more on that later.

So. "Life of the Beloved". It's great. The author (who's a priest) is explaining to his friend, (who is a secular Jew), about the spiritual life. The thing he says at the beginning of the book is that he wants his friend (Fred) to walk away knowing one word - "Beloved". He wants him to know that he is beloved.

I'm not gonna lie to you. I refused to read this book for about a year because the word "beloved" creeped me out. It makes me think of whisper-whiney women who tell you you're beautiful and loved and that it's all gonna be okay because they shared that nugget with you. There was a stigma attached to this word for me and I didn't like it. But I finally reached a point in my convos with Jesus and kind of hit a breaking point, or wall, or bottom, if you will. (And I will.) I told him "FINE! I'll read the dang book!" (I didn't say "dang" though.)

Today was the day I blew through the book.

It kicked my butt.

It's beautiful and simple and honest and easy to read (things I like in a book and things I hope to be).

He breaks it down - to be "Beloved" is to be taken, blessed, broken and given. (Eucharistic undertones, anyone?) We are all chosen and blessed by the One who loves us, and broken in some way, and are made to give our own blessedness to the world. Maybe this is sounding way too philosophical for you, but read the book, he's a much better writer than I.

I really got struck by "being loved" by God and the whole "brokenness" part. Not gonna lie to ya, I'm feeling really broken lately. It resonated with me like a gong in a quiet room...it just kept on ringing in the ears of my heart. As I sat before Jesus, He was pretty much yelling at me in this book, and I couldn't have been more pleased.

At the end of it all, I told Him that I wanted to make sure He was number one and that I loved Him most. He was pleased. I was antsy to get things a-movin'...as I usually am...and He said "it's not gonna happen all at once, it'll take time". As happy as I was to hear from the Big Guy, I was kind of pissed. I wanted it to happen right away. But, He was pleased that the desire was there.

I walked out of the Chapel and felt invigorated. I felt peace. I felt like I knew what to do, but at the same time had no clue whatsoever.

So I asked a couple of my friends the question: how do you love Jesus and put Him first? (The age old question.) I got the same answers. I got the things I knew. But there must be something else...

I don't quite know what that "something" is, and yet, I do. I know that it's a daily thing. A moment to moment thing. It's an abandonment issue, and not the kind that leaves you as an orphan on a doorstep. It's going to take trust. When you love someone, you want to trust them.

Inevitably, I will screw up. I always do. Heck, I probably am screwing up as I blog. But, it's about perseverance in love. So here we go Jesus, I'm gonna love and trust you in a new way...

"Through all your days, my son, keep the Lord in mind, and suppress every desire to sin or to break his commandments. Perform good works all the days of your life, and do not tread the paths of wrongdoing. For if you are steadfast in your service, your good works will bring success, not only to you, but also to all those who live uprightly." - Tobit 4:5-6

Tomorrow....a day of Tobit with special guest, Saint Raphael.

It's my party and I'll blog if I want to

It's my birthday.

I don't write this to elicit your "Happy Birthday" comments. I share this because...well, it's hard to grasp.

I turn, gulp, 26 today. At 10:52 am CST. I can't believe I'm, gulp, 26. I can't believe that my life is where it is right now. It's not what I thought. I feel more and more like Fiona (see previous post) right now. She was all alone in the tower for 23+ years and this Saturday night, the eve before my birth, I watched a CNN special on the Pope (not the best program) with my friend Stephen who graciously drove 45 minutes to keep me company. Let it be known, he receives the "Great Person of the Year Award" from me. (Thank you Stephen for hanging out. Made my night, even though we were semi-lame.)

I've said to a few of my friends that I don't want to turn 26. It seems so strange. I think the thing that makes it most strange is that I'm kind of alone. Not being in college, around so many of my friends, makes it not feel like my birthday. I'll admit it, I'm lonely. It makes me sad. I feel alone and don't like it.

Now I know that Jesus is always with me...no need to leave a comment with a cliche. But, nonetheless, I feel alone.

Tonight at Mass, I sat almost in tears the whole time - not because of any of the readings or the homily or whatnot, but because of what I brought to the Mass...my own loneliness. I came before Jesus tonight and was honest and real with Him. I love that about the Mass - being able to bring all I have (or don't have, in this case) to the altar...to bring it to Jesus, literally. So there I was, telling Jesus how lonely I felt, how I was sad, how my life was not what I thought it would be at this point, and how I didn't want to turn 26.

And you know what, He didn't say much. I didn't want a quick fix from Him. Usually, I do, honestly, because who wants to sit in muck? I wanted Him to give me the Grace to want Him, the Grace to know that He would be what could fill me.

It's a scary thing to ask for. I like life and it's weird to think that there's more, even though I feel it.

The other day, I was talking with a friend who, to me, appears to have it all. She is married and has a beautiful daughter. She has a wonderful marriage and loves her family and her job. But she shared that she doesn't have it all together. She longs for more....that "more" is God...and she realizes that even the most beautiful things of this world won't fulfill her...because we weren't made for this world. It blew my mind and took all of my self-control and muscles in my face NOT to sob right then and there.

She gave me hope for the struggle of our lives to put God first and at the center. She showed me in a couple brief moments that I am not alone and that the loneliness I feel and the struggle/hunger/desire I have is common between all people. Even though I may not be living the life I thought I would be at this juncture in my life, I have hope that rests in Love. I am still being formed...and always will be.

I'm thankful for the gift of life. My gift to you is the following precious little love song about Mario Kart. Yet another reason to celebrate life every day.

"Settle in...it's story time!"

So I've been working out lately.

This is something very foreign to me in the past year or so.

I. Am. In. Pain.

I'm not gonna sugar coat it - my body is screaming. I have to brace myself in order to sit down and use my arm strength to push me back up once I'm down. Yeah, it's like that. I feel old and out of shape. "Bootylicious Buns 2" is burning.

But today, I'm not going to give a cheesy analogous story about how working out is like the spiritual life. That's been done. Overdone. Burnt to a crisp even. Toasty. No thank you.

Instead, I have a confession, which I think I've confessed already. And since this isn't a Sacrament and forgiveness from the Big Guy is not really applicable for this form of story telling and satire, I will confess again, and some more.

I love to pretend I'm a singing star...in the bathroom. I really do. I'm guessing you or someone you know does too. "Your friend" probably grabs a hairbrush and gazes into the mirror using pop star moves here and there. Not me, though. Nope, I pretend I'm on Broadway. As of late, my Broadway jam has been "I Know It's Today" from "Shrek the Musical". (I'm very street.) Granted, I've never seen in, but I heard a song or two and proceeded to buy the soundtrack...on iTunes...on my iPhone...while I sat in the terminal waiting to catch a flight a few weeks ago...so I could listen to it on my flight. (Yes I liked it that much.) Below you can watch/listen to the song. Just push play, enjoy and read on...I'll wait.



Oh good, you're back. So here's the dealio. Fiona (who, now that I think about it, might be one of my favorite princesses of all time because she's stubborn, a lady, tough, strong-willed and weak all rolled into one) has been locked in a tower since she was a wee little lass (spoken with a Scottish brogue for emphasis) and has been awaiting the Prince Charming she has been reading about for God knows how long. She has this idea of what her own fairytale is going to look like...PC comes climbing up the wall into her room (much like Sam did with Clarissa in "Clarissa Explains It All"), kisses her, they fall madly in love and he whisks her away to live happily ever after.

If you haven't ever seen "Shrek"...spoiler alert...it doesn't happen like that. I mean, the basic gist is there, but it doesn't pan out like Fiona thinks it will.

Fiona gets "rescued" (she would use that term loosely) by an Ogre with no manners or control of his bowels and his sidekick Donkey, plans on marrying who she thinks might be PC, but ends up falling in love with the one who originally got her out of the tower and she turns into an Ogre after "true love's first kiss" and they live ogrely ever after...not exactly what she had in mind whilst she sang in the tower for those 8,423 days.

Anyway, I love pretending to be Fiona in the mirror, acting like I'm singing with a stellar voice in front of a packed Broadway house. I love this song. I love the irony of it. I (being the all-knowing audience member to the song) know that what Fiona is singing about isn't exactly what's lined up for her. (I wonder if that's how God feels when we make plans and He laughs.) The thing is, like I said before, she's got the basics right. She gets rescued, I mean he shows up, and they do fall in love but not in the time she assumes it'll be in.

Don't we do the same? We have an idea of how our own fairy tale should pan out. Chances are, because God's timing is perfect and ours clearly isn't, it won't work out like the Hollywood-romantic-comedy-script we have already jotted down on a bar napkin. I can testify to that. It won't. It doesn't. God's a better writer than me.

And another thing: we always compare our stories to other people. Maybe it's a princess, maybe it's a friend, maybe it's nobody but our own creative juices, but we compare. And when our story isn't reading the way someone else's, we get distracted/depressed/defeated. But really, who wants a repeat? If God speaks to us differently, if He gives us different gifts and talents, if He loves me uniquely, why wouldn't He write me a unique fairy tale? I like that Fiona has one-hell-of-a-surprise in her story. I am a fan of the surprise...only the good kind, but let's face it, a lot of surprises in our stories are not necessarily very pleasant.

Sometimes I can get so caught up in the first draft of my story that I think I miss out on the plot line that has been planned. I look at the details and forget the bigger picture. I try to scribble in my own ideas, and while they are appreciated, I'm an amateur writer. I make suggestions, plead prayers, fight with the Director, but at the end of the day, what do I know? I mean, I know stuff. Please don't think that this is a "Becca is depressed and hates her story" piece. It's not. It's a recognition that I'm a meager blogger in the story of my fairy tale.

Fiona had to wait...a long time. I did the math, and Fiona was in the tower for 23+years, assuming she went in the day she was born. She was alone for 23+ years. Barf. As an extrovert, that sounds like my own personal hell. But dang it, Fiona waited it out. She was hopeful, patient, impatient, jaded, lovestruck, irrational, etc. She was human. But, she stuck it out. She knew the basics of her fairy tale, she knew of the prince that would come and the "Happily Ever After" that was coming and (if I were to psychoanalyze her a bit) I think that because she got caught up in how other princesses stories panned out, she compared hers too much and put herself through more misery than was necessary.

I guess the moral of the story is, while God gives us points in the plot line, He wants to write us each a unique fairy tale. AND, He doesn't want us to compare ourselves to others' stories. AND, He probably wants us to be patient with the Writer...He wants it to be perfect.

Take heart, Fionas of the world - whether your a Fiona in love, work, school, hobby, aspirations whatever. Keep practicing your solo in the mirror. God delights in our silliness and he wants us to delight in Him too...He gives us the desires of our hearts. It's in your contract with the not-so-fine print of Psalm 37:4.

Homework for today: read the story of Tobias and Sarah in the book of Tobit - fairytale of the Bible. But don't compare yourself. And ask Archangel Raphael to be your guide along the journey of your own fairy tale.

He's the man...okay the Archangel. Patron of healing, happy meetings, joy, love, marriage, travel, young people, eye problems, against nightmares...pretty much everything. His feast day is coming up on the 29th...expect a special blog in his honor.

Who doesn't love a good love song?

I like to do random PR. Here's another plug.

I am a big fan of Train's new song "If It's Love". I just love Train. I stumbled across this young gent doing a cover of it on YouTube. He does some covers of songs and some of his own. He's apparently from the Pittsburgh area, so if you are too, you should check him out - Caleb Lovely. Good voice. I love this cover. Very simple and pure. And...ladies, he's got a nice swoop going on. We should call him LL Cool S - Ladies Love Cool Swoop.



Check out his cover of Train's "Marry Me" and his original "My Love". For serious. Check him out. Totes Presh.

Words To Live By

I tend to live by the following words. When I was in college, I was part of a small faith community (or Household, if you will) of about 50 women that were committed to the writing you see below. We prayed together, shared with one another, and signed a promise to live the "covenant" (see below). I try to read this everyday (Confession: many days I don't, but I at least think/pray about some aspect of it everyday) and pray that I can continue to live it out. It has become part of who I am and has utterly shaped my spirituality and relationship with Our Lord and Lady. I hope that you can take something from it and shine the light of Christ, like Mary did, in the world around you. Enjoy!

Stella Mariae Household Covenant

 

Our Covenant to Jesus and Mary

We burn with the fire of God’s love that comes to us from the Sacred Heart of Jesus. This ardent love consumes us from within, burning out our sinfulness.  Jesus’ heart is the source of our light, and from His enflamed Heart, He makes our hearts shine, shine with Love and Light.  We surrender our will to the Lord’s Love and place ourselves in His Heart.  Here we abandon our own will and are filled with the will of the Father.
 

Our Lady is the Star that has led us to Jesus’ heart of love.  She teaches us and clothes us with her Ten Virtues: her profound humility, her blind obedience, her ardent charity, her constant mental prayer, her universal mortification, her heroic patience, her divine purity, her lively faith, her angelic sweetness, and her divine wisdom.  As we fight in her army, we stand strong with the Ten Virtues as our armor.  Our weapons are ones of God’s peace.  Thus, Jesus’ Heart shines as the Sun, while Mary’s virtues, as the Moon, are the perfect reflection of her Son’s Heart.  So too, are we the little stars striving to shine as they do.  As little lights of Jesus and Mary, we are to shine on until the Son comes again.
 

We commit ourselves first and foremost to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  Through this we strive to attend daily Mass (wherever we may be), because it is in the Eucharist that we are completely consumed by God’s Love.  We also commit ourselves to daily prayer through consecration to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary.  We also commit to pray to the Blessed Mother for her Ten Virtues in saying our household prayer the Ten Virtues, to pray the Holy Rosary together, and to celebrate the Lord’s Day together.

 Our Covenant With One Another

Christ has called us into a special bond of spiritual sisterhood with one another.  By this sisterhood, Christ calls us to LOVE (1 Cor. 13:1-13) Him first and then His Mother.  Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.  This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35). By striving to truly love Jesus and Mary, we will learn how to love each other.  Our love for each other is manifested as we serve, respect, encourage, protect, and challenge one another toward holiness.
 

We fight as women warriors, moving in unison with one another. Our battle is one for the triumph of Christ’s love in our hearts and in the world.  We are here to support each other in this battle, so that when one of us falls, the other women are present to help and protect the one who has fallen.  We call each other on to holiness, to imitation of the Blessed Mother; in the way we dress, act, and speak, in what we choose to see and hear.  We help each other make decisions for the good. In this way we set our lives apart so that we will be used to bring Christ’s Light and Love into this world of darkness.  In giving our lives and ourselves to Jesus and Mary, through interior and communal prayer, we are urged to go forth to evangelize and serve others in the different places God will place us.

St. Paul, pray for us.

St. Joan of Arc, pray for us.

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us. 

Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us. 

Our Lady, Star of the Sea, pray for us.

Law of Love

Fun fact. Right now, Aaron and I are both humming the theme from StarWars as we both work at our computers. Nerds. That means it's time for some Coldplay instead...

So yesterday, I found myself watching a (gulp) marathon of Real Housewives of New York. Go ahead and judge me - I judge myself. There's something about reality TV, it sucks you in and makes you forget about real life. I hate that. I hate not living my own life. But nonetheless, I've been sucked into their world of gossip, deceit, and middle aged women acting like Mean Girls in high school. Lame sauce.

There is a good side about watching this smut...kind of. It makes me really appreciate that I don't have their lives. I'm so happy that my life is pretty non-dysfunctional. I can get along pretty well. Thank you Jesus. I'm not saying this to judge them as people, what I'm saying is that I'm so thankful that I was born into the family I was born into. They taught me how to love and live and to know God as my Father. Saved me from a world of hurt. My family showed me a glimpse of what God's Family is like.

I went to Mass last night thinking about this - Real Housewives compared to my own life and all. I'll be honest, I was kind of lost during the first reading for a bit. It was from Amos and there was a line in it about "when will the new moon be over", and I thought of Twilight (barf) and kind of laughed slash felt bad slash was totally lost for a minute or two. (When will the new moon be over? When will the Twilight fever die? I'm sorry if you're a fan. I really am sorry. I just don't appreciate the books. That's another rant for another day.) Later on, the Gospel was about the servant who is trustworthy in small matters will be trustworthy in great ones. I like that. Trust is big for me. I am trying to work hard at it. I want to be a trustworthy servant who trusts.

Anyway....the nitty gritty. When it was time to receive Jesus, I did, and came back to my pew next to BFFK and Aaron, and I prayed. Earlier in the day, I was hanging out with them in the apartment and reflecting about how much they show the world that God is Love through the Sacrament of Matrimony. I am blessed to see the good and the hard parts and God's Love is through it all. I was reflecting about this as I prayed after Communion and I looked up and saw this middle aged couple walk up the center aisle, receive Jesus, and walk back to their pews. (You know you all people-watch during Mass.) I wouldn't even noticed them too much except that the woman was walking with a cane. She seemed too young for a cane, hence why I really noticed her and her husband. I noticed too that her husband didn't walk behind her or even walk with his hand on her back, to guide her. No. He held her hand the whole time. Because she had a cane, clearly she walked a little slower, so there was a little Mass traffic jam behind them as they walked back. I watched the husband and saw that none of this phased him. He kept his eyes locked in front of him and gripped his wife's hand as they struggled back to their pew.

I started to cry.

I realized, witnessing them during Communion, that they were living out their vow "in sickness and in health". They were a shining light to the world of what the Sacrament of Matrimony is all about - walking with your spouse to Christ and getting them to heaven...and everyone else along the way. The husband had to hold his wife's hand to get her to Jesus, and she in turn had to hold his and let him lead her. It was beautiful. I can't completely explain it all, but it was beautiful. The love they shared between one another and the way that they love the Lord...that's what it's all about. That's our Christian walk. That's what husband and wife are supposed to be - a light to the world to show who God is and what His love for us looks like and to give him all the glory. His love holds our hand when we can't walk on our own.

That's what BFFK and Aaron show the world. It's what they show me.

Real Housewives have nothing on what the Sacrament is, no offense to them. But in all seriousness, if you want to change the world, if you want to show the world God's Love, it starts in the family. It starts with how you love. That's what people will see. How are you showing God's love to the world? Are you burning with the fire of God's Love? Are you being a light and a trustworthy servant?

I'm not perfect...at all. But I want to love like Love does.

St. Gianna Molla (favorite) said that "Be living witnesses of the greatness and beauty of Christianity."  She was an amazing woman, disciple, wife and mother. She worked with teens and shared who Jesus was with them. She lived in the world but wasn't of it. She enjoyed life and lived it to the full, knowing who gave her Life to live abundantly. She loved to love like Love Himself an through her marriage to her husband (who she was crazy about) and family (who she was utterly devoted to). She has showed the world (especially me) that human love shows a glimpse of God's love and that holiness is possible for a girl like me and that it's not reserved for those in monasteries. It's for all of us. She even said, "Love is the most beautiful sentiment the Lord has put into the soul of men and women."

Holiness comes down to the law of Love.

Party in the...Canada?

This guy is from Canada. He is awesome. Let's be friends, sir.

Dynamite - Taio Cruz - A Cappella Cover - Just Voice and Mouth - Mike To...

Stabat mater dolorosa

BFFK and I are currently watching Kitty Bear flip out in the apartment because the weather is changing outside....it's no longer "Africa-Hot". It's just regular, old, hot. The cat only knows how to cope with the change by running around in circles/up the door frames/into the rooms.

Confession: I shut the doors to my room and bathroom when she wasn't looking in hopes that Kitty Bear would crash into the doors and go "splat". So far....no "splat". Oops.

Also at the moment, BFFK and I are watching the season premiere of one of my favorite shows "Parenthood". If you've never seen it, you're missing out. I'm not saying that everything on the show is morally perfect, but what I am saying is that it is pretty true to life. It's a show about these 4 siblings, their own families, and their parents who all live in the same town. It's all about the different forms and ways to parent and the funny/hard things families experience. It's hilarious and honest - two of my favorite things. Check it out.

Speaking of parenthood, today is one of Momma's feast days: Our Lady of Sorrows.

I like the title of "Our Lady of Sorrows". I mean, who hasn't at one point or another been sorrowful? I can remember being somewhere in Italy and buying a little statue of OLOS. She looked really sad. But hopeful at the same time.

There's been a feast for OLOS since, like, the 12th century or something. (That's a long time.) But ever since Jesus' Crucifixion, nay, the Prophecy of Simeon, Our Lady has been OLOS. She didn't even fully know that when she said "Fiat" how much was going to come along with it.

"The child's father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, "Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (and you yourself a sword will pierce) so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." (Luke 2:33-35)

Mary was amazed, blessed and pierced. (Joseph too, he was in important man in salvation history, let's be honest.)

Mary shows us that if we want to follow her Son, if we want to bring Him into the world, then it's gonna take us becoming amazed, blessed and, at some point, pierced in a way. Mary may not of necessarily known what it would feel like to have her heart pierced. She knew it was coming for 33 years. And even when it was pierced, she was sorrowful WITH HOPE. This blows my mind.

It's so freaking difficult for me to suffer and have hope. When we are sorrowful or suffering it's so hard to get out of our own little bubble and see the bigger picture. The pain overtakes us and we are frozen in the moment, unable to move from the sorrow, and even if we are able to move, we don't want to because it's just plain easier to be sad than to have hope. Despite the Truth we may hear or see, it's hard.

In those times, I try to look to Our Lady of Sorrows and I think of her hope. She had a faith like Abraham...knowing that the sacrifice of her only Son was going to break her human heart completely, but that God the loving Father is bigger than death and those things we don't understand. She hopes in the hard times, for me, for you, for all of humanity. She doesn't give up. Our Lady of Sorrows has the Divine Wisdom to hope and the Heroic Patience to wait in complete trust. She has the Lively Faith to know that despite even death, God is bigger than the mystery of it all.

Our Lady of Sorrows, pray for us. 

"Make me feel as thou hast felt;
make my soul to glow and melt
with the love of Christ my Lord."

When it's a #2, I look like #1

If you haven't seen this yet, for shame.
This is by far the best commercial I've seen in quite some time. This young gentleman is a man after my own heart...a white button up and jeans. Classy, young sir. Very classy.

Story time...

A few days ago, my good friend explained Fantasy Football to me. Now, I’ve never even had a desire to understand, let alone play, Fantasy Football. I don’t even remember how the topic came up. Needless to say, we were driving around and it came up. He proceeded to explain FF to me, but upon seeing that I didn’t quite grasp it, he gave it to me in a metaphor which included scheduling speakers for youth conferences. To quote: “You wouldn’t schedule Mark Hart for a teeny tiny breakout session, when he’s a big enough player to pack a room of thousands for a keynote.” He said this to help me get the whole draft thing with all the rounds. Believe it or not, I got it.

Last night, was the first game of the season, so we watched New Orleans play Minnesota. Whilst we watched (I love the word “whilst”), I asked a billion questions about how you earn the points exactly in FF and what every rush/touchdown/pass meant. I even surprised him when I understood the differences between Questionable and Probable categories for players in your own team. Go me. For a long time, Derek kept explaining things in the metaphor of youth conference speakers. I had to eventually stop him mid-game and tell him that he didn’t need to do that anymore…that I actually really did get it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no profesh, but I think I want to join a league next year. It’s all very interesting and kind of fun to me.

I share this story for a few reasons:

1)    To let the world know that I’m not a ditz when it comes to sports. My father played basketball and football in high school and football in college and made sure to teach me a thing or two about sports. I may not be good at anything, but I understand it. (Sidenote – I love Baseball and even thought my ‘Stros have sucked it up this year, I am a die-hard fan. I can watch baseball all day and be entertained.)

2)    Also, to explain the learning process of our small human brains. Let me explain:

You see, I think that we as a human race (God bless us) are completely self-centered. Our personal worlds are so small and close to us, that it’s hard for one to comprehend something outside of our selves. I understand thing in reference to what I like and what I know – like dance, stories, speaking, flying, etc. Derek had to explain fantasy football to me in a way that I would understand. He knew that I understood speakers and booking and scheduling, so he went that route.

Quick story – when I was in high school, I danced. A lot. I was in charge of my team at school. I would choreograph and teach dances and keep people in line. When you dance, it helps to have a story for motivation. If you’ve ever watched SYTYCD, the choreographer usually has a story they are trying to express in dance because words just won’t do. They typically explain it during the clip of the dancers learning it. It helps the dancers to know the story behind the choreography so that they can appropriately communicate the story to get the audience to participate in said story and feel what cannot be expressed in words. In high school, the girls called me “Mother Goose” because everytime I taught, I gave a story to explain how to dance. One of the routines was a kind of angry piece put to a medley I created from “Road to Perdition” (great soundtrack) and the story was about the Storming of Bastille that we learned about in History class. Google it. I told the story of what happened so that the girls could better understand the emotion I wanted them to express in order to get the audience to enter into the story. Just like the SYTYCD choreographers, I tried to get the audience to enter into my story by giving one to base everything off of. Derek tried to get me to understand Fantasy Football by giving me a story that was relevant to me.

This is exactly what Jesus did.

Jesus taught in parables, meeting his listeners where they were at (in a boat, in a family, at a wedding, in the field sowing, etc.) to invite them into the story and get them out of the self-centered world they lived in so that He might show them that He was indeed the world they needed to live in. He was bigger than the world the had found themselves looking at.

Jesus teaches us in parables still.

He has shown me that when I love selflessly, my worldview is bigger and not focused on only me and my tiny circle of a “personal space bubble”.

He has shown me that when my BFFK gives a granola bar to the same homeless man every week at the same overpass that He always provides and loves unconditionally.

He has shown me that when my former pastor sees me after years of not seeing me and tells me I’m a beautiful young woman that He sees me as His beautiful daughter that He is proud of and loves unconditionally.

He has shown me of His undying affection for me when my BFF Rachel has my back and always supports me in all that I do. I understand that He loves stupidly by accepting the love she shows me.

The stories of my life show me (and God-willing, others) that He is Real, He is Love and He is Relationship. Through the mystery of the Incarnation, God sent Himself to be humanity, to suffer on the Cross and to die and defeat death, inviting everyone into a RELATIONSHIP with a Being who is Real, Love and Relationship itself. He meets me, and you, where we are at by inviting us into a story that is bigger than ourselves to get us out of ourselves. He speaks in the strangest of places and, at the same time, the place where we are in order to Be with us.

Listen to the parable God is speaking to you, the story He is reaching out to you in today. He meets you where you are. He becomes Bread so that you can receive His Body – talk about profound humility. Let God be God and humble himself to meet you in your self-centered world so that He can show that there is so much more.

Jezu Ufam Tobie

Listen in the....wherever

I cannot remember a time when I have slept so much. I got sick on Friday, and have slept at least 10 hours every night since then....plus naps. I am a firm believer that when you're sick, the best treatment is sleeping. Luckily, I have the opportunity to do that. But, sleeping makes me feel weak. Not, "I'm a weak little baby" (said in a Schwarzenagger voice), but, you know, I get up and walk around for a while and am just wiped. Plus, Tropical Storm Hermine (pronounced "hur-mine", not like the character from Harry Potter, contrary to what I believed and was corrected about by the weatherman on Channel 2) has rolled into Houston and it's been raining, a lot, feeding my sleepiness.

On Sunday, a great friend of mine who is in the seminary in Houston, invited me to Mass and brunch. I was excited because I hadn't seen him in quite some time and I love the Church at St. Mary's Seminary. (Sidenote - I'm a sucker for liturgical art. The way a Church is designed and the art in it should lead the congregation closer to God. See CCC 2503-2503.) St. Mary's is old school and has a fantastic ceiling above the sanctuary. There's gold and a ton of symbolism in everything. Needless to say, I was stoked. I was feeling sick, but I knew I needed to go to Mass and the trip was worth the sacrifice at 9am. I arrived just in time and followed my friend into Mass.

Never have I felt like I stood out soooooo much. I was the lone girl in a sea of 85-ish seminarians/deacons/priests. Awesome. They were all in suits (or clerics) and I in a modest gray and black dress (thank God I got the color memo). However, I was wearing a bright red-orange cardigan which announced my presence...as did my lack of a Y chromosome. I fidgeted the entire time with what I was wearing, even though I was completely modest, and freaked out if I should have worn my floor length burlap sack.

Mass was great. I was a bit foggy with my cold/flu, but it was nice. Brunch was great. I got to see some friends from college also, and it was great to sit and chat with these awesome men. My friend wanted to catch up, so after brunch we went on a walk on the grounds.

St. Mary's has a great path system in the woods, complete with stations, and my friend showed me the tennis courts and all the other fun stuff, including the damage that still exists after Hurricane Ike.

On our walk, we talked (of course) and I asked him a very blunt question - "How do you hear God?" I think he was a bit taken aback, so I explained myself. A couple weeks ago, a former teen of mine asked how I hear God. My immediate reaction was, "I don't know", when in reality I do know. I told her that I just hear Him and I didn't know how to teach that. Since then, I've been on a survey kick, asking people how they hear God. My seminarian friend told me he just kind of gets a nudge on his shoulder. My BFFK (that would translate into my "best friend friend Kristin" aka, the "housemate") hears God kind of the same way I do. Her husband hears God through people. (Sidenote - when I asked him how he knew he was supposed to marry Kristin, he said "God said 'marry her or I'll kick your butt'"...I laughed...hard. He was kidding.) My mom doesn't hear God the way I do. Neither does my dad. It got me thinking...how do I hear God? How did I get to this point?

I'm no mystic. I'm not a saint. But, I wanted to know how did I get to place when I hear Him in the bathroom a lot of the time. I know it hasn't always been that way, but what happened?

I sat down with BFFK and we talked it out. I realized that when I did first "hear" God speak to me, I already knew His voice. I had heard it before, but I couldn't pinpoint it. I had to think...

I grew up with a family that was very faithful. We're talking Mass every Sunday, my parents were really involved at the Church and I had always known who God was and that I was His daughter. I knew that Jesus was the King and He should be number one in my life. (Look at CCC 2685, the Church states that the first place a person learns about prayer and God in general is in the family. Family is the domestic church, by virtue of the sacrament of Marriage.) As I talked it out more, I told BFFK that when I was a young teen, I used to sit up and read the Bible at night. Call me a dork, but that's what I did. I just wanted to hear what God had to say. Through that, I heard stories of times when God spoke to people. I learned what happened when He chose to speak to people like Moses, Abraham, Ezekial, Tobit, Mary, Paul, etc. I read what His voice sounded like, the peace that it brought, the doubt that a human had when hearing it because they were afraid (Fear of the Lord), the love that ensued, etc. I saw how His voice transformed people and I knew that once God spoke to somebody, things would never be the same. From an early age, I learned the characteristics about God's voice, so that when I did hear Him, I already knew the voice in a way. It was familiar. It was home.

I'm nobody special. I try to love and listen to God. Sometimes I hear Him. He's always there, though. He's there in the way I hear Him and he's there nudging my seminarian friend on the shoulder. He's there with BFFK's husband when he hears the voice of God through other people. He meets us where we're at and I believe God spoke to me when He knew I was ready to hear Him and that I would recognize His voice...like His little sheep. He's my shepherd and I know His voice. Sometimes, when I'm out in the field and wandering, he hollers and I come running. Other times, he knows I'm within the fence and He can see me and let's me sniff around and eat some grass (I just took that analogy really far).

Even when I'm sick and stuck on the couch, listening to the rain gently hit the window pane, I know He's got me. Okay, so I WANT TO KNOW completely that He's got me...but it's a growing process. Trusting in His voice...not just hearing it. Maybe that's what you need to do today. Get to know the voice of God, the voice that speaks something into the nothingness. Read His Word and get to know the people who He has spoken to in Scripture.

How do you hear God?...feel free to comment and respond.

Becca is a proud sponsor of the Disney Channel, bringing readers together

*I'd like to first state that, the things that are underlined are in fact hyper-links and are meant to be clicked on...they usually bring in a pop-culture reference to make something more real, or, in most cases, funnier. So, click them.*

I am sick. There might be very few things that are worse (rather, more inconvenient) than being sick in the summer....the summer flu. It reminds me of a scene from The O.C., where it's made light of. Granted, I am not in the same boat as Seth's character - he's faking sick - but I am sick. It sucks.

I'm actually supposed to be at a wedding RIGHT NOW as I blog. I had to cancel my flight because I have a fever and flu-like things. Bleh. This all adds to the frustration of being sick.

When I'm sick, I don't have much of an appetite or drive. What I do have is a fever...and the only prescription is more cowbell. Kidding...I crave fast food when I'm sick. I'm like a pregnant woman - I don't feel any better until I have a burger and fries, namely, from Whataburger. If you're not from Texas, you don't understand. I am this close to hiring an assistant to go buy me a burger.

Since I'm sick, with nothing to do and nobody to really talk to, I've got a lot of time on my hands. Last night, when I woke up from a coma at 7pm, I watched (gulp) Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam. Please don't judge me. I like the Disney Channel. It's mind-numbing and funny - all the makings of a good comfort when one is sick.

(Sidenote - I haven't watched a lot of TV lately, but the stuff I have watched has made me angry: dumb plot lines, people fighting for the spotlight, etc. I'll share more about that later. Just know it's coming soon.)

Anyway, so there I was, sprawled out of the couch, blanket engulfing me while a roll of TP sat in my lap to catch the constant drippage and coughs and I held onto my cup of tea with all my strength. Camp Rock 2 was...like HSM went to camp with worse dance moves. I'm sorry, but there is one girl who they hired who just doesn't have much rhythm. Maybe I'm picky because I was once a dancer (nothing extravagant or perfect by any means) and I have high expectations when one dances on TV (sorry Kate Gosselin). The whole movie was disappointing, but I stuck with it because, due to the cloud that was setting up residence in my head, I wanted to pretend my life was in fact a musical for the night.

(Sidenote #2 - I like to pretend that often. I am a fan of dancing around and singing to music, pretending that I am, in fact, really good, and in a musical. Confession: I always do this in the bathroom while I get ready for the day. You ever seen Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me"? Yeah...that's what I do. The funny thing is, chances are you do it too, but it's one of those things that is taboo to talk about...until you walk in on your roommate dancing around their room in their robe, pretending that they are the newest cast member on "Glee", singing "Faithfully" at regionals.)

Something funny I noticed whilst I entered into the nothingness of the Disney Channel made-for-tv movie: Disney is getting outside sponsors now. Maybe this is stupid info for you and you're thinking "Becca, what are you talking about? Aren't you too old for Disney?", to which I respond, "No, one of my life goals is to be a Disney princess" (which is a future entry all-together). Whatever you're thinking, the fact is, Disney now has little commercials from companies like Verizon and Dodge Caravan. They're not even real commercials - they are usually a flash of the sponsor name with the "Disney voice-over guy" saying "Verizon is a proud sponsor of Disney Channel...bringing families together". Now, I'm glad that Disney is bringing families together. I just think it's funny that, not too long ago, Disney only was sponsored on air by...themselves. The "commercials" were always promoting their own programming, music videos of Disney Channel stars, previews for their own movies, etc. They are a self-run machine and powerhouse - they rule the media all on their own. And they're trying to focus on the family. Even one of their newer shows "Good Luck Charlie" is all about a bigger family (4 kids) with married parents and the hilarity that ensues after the fourth child, Charlie, is kind of a surprise. I'll admit - it's really funny. My housemate and I laugh at it...a lot. But I digress.

There's not so much a moral of this story. It's mostly an observation I have made. I wonder what is happening at the Disney corp and why they have begun to seek outside advertisers on their channel. Now, I understand that Disney is one with ABC and ESPN....one company, three divisions (Trinity joke, which probably fell short of the "joke" realm, landing nearby in "almost-offensive-town", sorry...blame the flu). But needless to say, it's one of those changes that make you think.

I don't know what Disney Channel will look like once "It's On! - Summer 2010" is over. I'll be expecting some newer, brighter, more stimulating and obnoxious color-scheme of a program. You should too. Or not. Go read a book. That's what I'm going to go do. Disney Channel promotes reading and fitness a lot on TV, which is kind of ironic.

Anyway, my head is cloudy, just like the sky here in Houston today...a little overcast and cool - way off from what summer is usually like. Hey look - my health parallels the weather....weird. Becca out.

Jezu Ufam Tobie.

Honesty is the best policy, part deux

Yesterday was one of those days...

I woke up and it seemed the whole wide world was stacked up against me. Granted, I had been traveling all day, crashed at 2 am, and woke up on a very uncomfortable pillow...all of this created the backdrop for a perfect storm. Do you ever wake up and things are already going not-so-great? Like, as soon as your feet hit the floor, you feel like pretty soon, your knees, hips, elbows and shoulders will hit the floor soon after? I'm not talking about feeling paralyzed here. It's a metaphor. Please keep up.

I went to the living room of my friends house where I was staying, and was already not in a great mood. Granted, I am not a very big morning person, but this was different. I sat down and shared with my friend how I was feeling, that I was mad...at God. It took guts to verbalize, but I did it. I began to cry, expressing that I hated being upset, hated confrontation with God and just wanted to love Him simply. My friend, the great friend that they are, said "let's go to the Chapel". You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone is right and something big is gonna happen?...this was one of those such times.

We drove to the Church, and I was dropped off at the Adoration Chapel, where, upon walking in and seeing about a dozen little old ladies praying piously, I realized that this was far too public an arena for me to be honest with God. I suspected tears would be flowing (since they were already welling up in my eyes) and really wanted some privacy. So I got my friend to unlock to Main Church and I stomped my way to the tabernacle and sat down.

I soon began to cry. And when I say cry, I don't mean "a beautiful solitary tear fell across my cheek, splashing onto the floor". Nay. I sobbed. Wept. Dribbles of snot everywhere. That kind of a cry. I was furious as I cried too. I yelled (literally) at Jesus saying "Why aren't you saying anything?!!?!" I pounded the floor with my fists. I kicked, groaned, and trashed about like a beached whale. (Weird image, I know.) I yelled that I didn't understand what the heck He was doing. To put it plainly, I threw a temper tantrum...in front of the Lord. And I didn't care. I was so in the moment of honesty with Him, knowing He could handle my tantrum.

Now you probably are reading this with the image of me performing such an act in your head. You're probably thinking it looked pretty funny. And it probably did. But it was just me and Him. At one point, I even got up to stomp to the back of the Church for some tissues, wandering into the bathroom, barefoot like Brittany Spears, grabbing any toilet paper I could find and STOMPING UP THE AISLE BACK TO THE TABERNACLE. This was def-com 5 hissy fit action. Again, it looks hysterical in your head, huh?

Part of me is kind of embarrassed to say all of this, but I say it for one reason and one reason only....because it is the honest truth.

I sat and thrashed before my God. The God who has loved me, formed me in the Truth, spoken to me in Love and Truth, and yes, at times, said nothing at all. I sat on the floor at His feet and cried. Like a 4 year old. And do you know what happened next?

At first, nothing. I actually laid down on my side, curled in the fetal position, and gently wept until I calmed down. I breathed deeply to regulate my heartbeat and take a break. And then...then in the quiet part of my heart where I can remember being a kid and hearing His voice for the first time, He said "I love you and I've been there". Part of me didn't want to hear it. Sometimes we don't want to hear God. We want to sit in our stuff and stew, throw a pity party. But I heard Him, loud and clear. He said He loved me. He also later said that it was going to be okay and that he appreciated my honesty. I was afraid to be honest, but boy, did I lay into Him, knowing He could take it, accept it, love it and transform it.

It reminded me of being a kid. When I was in trouble, my parents had a "time out bench". This was no ordinary bench...it was actually an old church pew, uncomfortable and rigid, with some sort of hand made family heirloom doily; ugly. I can remember doing something stupid and being told, "you have to go to time-out". I would wail when I heard those fateful words, "time out". Once I made it to the dreadful bench, I would be told by my father that I would have to sit there for 5 minutes, which would make me cry even more. He also would say that the time didn't start until I stopped crying...which consequently would make me cry all the more. Eventually, I'd slow it down to a sniffle and eventually stop, then before I knew it, my time would be up and I would never ever ever want to be on the bench again.

The discipline of my father and the "bench" reminded me of how God sits while I throw a fit. In that moment in the chapel yesterday, I yelled and screamed and wondered aloud as to why all of this was happening and why He wasn't saying anything, but it wasn't until I shut up and was quiet, broken, open and vulnerable with my Father, that He clearly spoke to me.

(Side note, I realize that God speaks to all of us differently, so please don't think that I'm some mystic that God has chosen to speak to, this is just how the two of us work and that I've slowly been able to get out of the way and hear Him throughout my entire life. I bet a lot of you don't know that. Hence the "Listen in the Loo" title.)

To continue with the analogy and the story all together, my friend came into the Chapel, after receiving a text requesting the presence of a person from me, and upon seeing me, hugged me, helping me to see that God was there to comfort me with not just words but also with a physical manifestation of His love. My friend proceeded to listen to me explain what had been going on and they said, "Sometimes He does it for our own good"....kind of like when my parents would put me in time out for my own good, which, again, didn't start until I stopped crying.

The point of it all is this, honesty is the best policy especially with the One who Loves, who is Love. In the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Carmen tells Tibby that it's easy for her to get mad at her because she knows she'll still be there and love her. Isn't that true with love? When you know someone loves you, you aren't afraid that they'll leave when you're honest...if anything they'll be more apt to stick around. That doesn't just go for our relationships with others, but with God, because, after all, our love with others shines out to the world to show what the Love of God looks like. It's only appropriate.

Be honest with God today. If that means you don't say "Dear Jesus" or "Thou" or "Thine" when you go to pray and instead say "what's up", do it. If it means, you sit before Him and throw a hissy fit, do it. If it means you just sit there silent, do it. Go and be with Him....that's what prayer is. That's relationship. He is relationship...not a theory, not a formula, not a "thing" in the sky, but a Person...who just happens to love you. Surprise.

Love can handle anything. That's what I keep telling myself because God keeps telling me and I keep doing. It's hard, don't get me wrong, but it's worth it. Why would you love something that was just easy, when the things that are hard are always the best and most worth it. Honesty, selfless love. It's possible. It is REAL and undeniable when Love is made present and Love takes the temper tantrum and still loves.

Wackaoo YouTube Video...a must see

This is the craziest video I have seen all week. Be careful, you might scream in surprise...

Sweet dreams are made of these, who am I to disagree

Yes, I did just use a Eurythmics song as a title, thanks for noticing.

Tangent before we start: Why are all the people in the new Snuggie commercial doing the Macarena? Did I miss the time-space continuum that the entire world apparently fell in to? Dis. Sturb. Bing.

Another tangent: I think that I have a very large brain that constantly needs to be stimulated. Currently, as I write, I'm drinking some delish Cafe DuMond Coffee (in a monster sized artsy mug, of course), listening to my iTunes (Mr. Big's "To Be With You"...an excellent ballad from the 90's), as well as watching "Real Housewives of New York" on mute. Do not judge me. Sometimes, watching other people's train wrecks can give you great perspective on your own life...and, let's be honest, make you feel better about yourself some times. Bless their hearts.

Speaking of blessing hearts, I had a fantastic conversation with a good friend of mine...a sister of mine actually. Her name is Kate and the following reflection is really from what God shared with her and she, in turn, shared with me. So Kate, thanks for your insight ahead of time...it's been rocking my heart the past few days...it might rock yours, my dear reader. And we're off:

The Annunciation is one of my favorite mysteries of the Rosary. You know the story, Mary, a sinless and most perfect virgin, is found to be preggers in quite a mysterious way by the Holy Spirit. In the Gospel of Matthew, chapter one to be precise, Joseph finds out, and he kind of freaks out. Now, I try to think about what happened to Josephs heart when he found out the woman he was supposed to be with was pregnant in some crazy way that he couldn't really understand, and as hard as she tried, Mary probably couldn't articulate exactly what happened (hence the mystery of the rosary). Now Joseph, although scared, was a stand up guy and wanted to end the relationship quitely so that Mary wouldn't be persecuted to the fullest by the village people with their pitchforks and clubs. The Scripture continues to say that an angel appeared to Joseph (apparently guys named Joseph tend to have dreams, see Genesis 37 and following).  He told Joseph what was up, to not be afraid, to marry Mary (ha, word play) and that the child was from the Holy Spirit and he should name him Jesus. He also quotes some old scripture that Joseph was familiar with and then, ol' Joe woke up and did as he was told.

There's a lot happening in these 8 verses. The thing that strikes me the most is the timing - it's horrible! I guess that goes to show that God has His own timing, eh? It's proven even in the timing of Jesus' conception. If you read the scripture and really think about it...there's not even a time stamp. I mean, the author doesn't share with the group about how long it took until Joseph had a dream. Can you imagine Mary's heartache? I mean, here's this young girl, and while yes, she was sinless, the man that was set aside for her was pretty much freaking out and seemingly MIA. Now, I know Mary is pretty much "IT" when it comes to being a disciple and saying "Fiat" to the Lord, but can you imagine her heartache? I can. I've been there. Maybe you have too, I hope to God you haven't, it's the most sucky pain. But in all seriousness, who knows how long Mary had to wait. All she had to cling to was the promise of God - that her "yes" had changed the world, and allowed for Love itself to become flesh, to be Incarnate for all of time, for salvation to be won with a simple word from a humble girl. This humble girl waited and trusted that God would take care of her and His only Son. She loved Joseph, sure. But more than that, she loved her Lord. And she trusted.

In His most perfect time, God worked on Joseph. He had the truth knocked into his brain and could say nothing but "Fiat" himself. I'm sure he felt a lot of pressure to raise and protect these precious treasures of God, but again, he also trusted. He loved the Lord even more than his beloved...which is how it's supposed to be.

Mary's Immaculate and Sorrowful Heart and her Son's Sacred and Eucharistic Heart beat as one, sharing the same blood which trusted and loved the Lord. Joseph, set aside for Mary, had one heck of a heart too, one which was scared by the Truth, then was able to recieve the love and peace of God, and trusted Him above all else, all the while, loving the most perfect woman and Son.

Both Mary and Joseph waited on the Lord and look what He did - salvation! Hello. McFly.

So have hope. Live and love like Mary and Joseph do.

A Scripture to close with....
"The law is fulfilled without fail, and perfect wisdom is found in the mouth of the faithful man. A man with training gains wide knowledge; a man of experience speaks sense. One never put to the proof knows little, whereas with travel a man adds to his resourcefulness. I have seen much in my travels, learned more than ever I could say. Often I was in danger of death, but by these attainments I was saved. Lively is the courage of those who fear the LORD, for they put their hope in their savior;He who fears the LORD is never alarmed, never afraid; for the LORD is his hope. Happy the soul that fears the LORD! In whom does he trust, and who is his support? The eyes of the LORD are upon those who love him; he is their mighty shield and strong support, A shelter from the heat, a shade from the noonday sun, a guard against stumbling, a help against falling. He buoys up the spirits, brings a sparkle to the eyes, gives health and life and blessing." - Sirach 34:8-17

Jezu Ufam Tobie

A little reading does a body good

The readings for today are kicking my butt. 

Have you ever known what you should be thinking or doing but there's something inside you that wants to revolt against that (even if it is good) just because you can revolt, throw a temper-tantrum, and be pissy? That's how I feel right about now.

I hope that I don't sound crazy, just human. So this morning, when I woke up, all I wanted to do was shut out people because I could. I wanted to be a rebel and turn away from people just so I could do it. No reason. Just being a pre-teen...even though I am far from it. I literally stood at the microwave and said outloud, "I don't trust you". I don't know who I was talking to...myself? Other people? God? Either way, I said it, and I wanted to be pissy and throw a fit. 

I sat down to write and I had nothing. I've been having nothing for a while. Just feeling empty, you know what I mean? 

So, I read the readings for today and lo and behold...a butt whooping. 

The Lord spoke to Ezekial, and told him that he breathes new life into our dry bones. (Read the reading...it's highly imaginative and descriptive.) The bones themselves told the Lord that “Our bones are dried up, our hope is lost, and we are cut off." Man, I felt like those bones. I feel dried up with no hope and cut off from everything. But then, God says that He will make the bones come back to life and come home to Israel. As much as I didn't want to hear it, God was telling me that HE IS IN CONTROL. He is the Hope of Israel and my Hope too, even when I don't want to see it and want nothing more than to sit in my dry bones in a grave and whine. He still is Hope. He is Love, and that doesn't change. 

The Psalm for today was pretty butt-kicking too. The refrain: "Give thanks to the Lord; his love is everlasting."

Boo-yah. I want to be a baby. I don't want to give thanks. I WANT to complain. I do complain, let's be honest. But the thing that gets me every single time is that "his love is everlasting". Ugh. It's true. Dangit! I may not feel it nor may I want to receive it, but it's freaking everlasting!!!!

The Gospel. Oh the Gospel. One of my favsies. The Great Commandment in Matthew:

“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart,
with all your soul, and with all your mind.
This is the greatest and the first commandment.
The second is like it:
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”

FTL. For The Love. That Hope and that Love lies in Him. His Love is everlasting and it has the power to breathe new life. Into me...and you. Even when all I want to do is lie in my grave. 

I am uncomfortable with these readings. It's uncomfortable because I know I need to allow life to be breathed into me and to accept this unending Love and give it back. Ugh. It's good and painful all at the same time. Faith is complex like that...but oh so simple at the same time. 

Dear Church, thanks for organizing the readings for today through the Holy Spirit so that I can have my butt kicked. Love, Me. 

Honesty is the best policy

Fun fact: I almost electrocuted myself plugging in the power cord for my computer. There's nothing like a near death experience to put things into focus. Or a blur. I guess it depends on how close to death you get.

I'm gonna be really honest. I have had an AWFUL week. You know when you think everything has gone wrong and there's no way it could get any worse...and then it does? Yeah, it's been one of those. Maybe you can relate. I really hope you can't, but let's face it - it's a human thing and you probably do.

I've felt a lot like Job this week, like everything is being taken away from me. I hate looking at God as a punisher; a big bully stepping on the little ol' ant that is me. I really do. My heart hurts. Heartache, not chest pains or anything. It's broke. Toe up from the flo' up. I feel abandoned. I feel not cared for by God and others. I haven't felt alone like this in...ever. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am in the thick of it. I don't want to pray. (Now I know a few days ago, I wrote about desolation and the need to pray MORE...but I don't want to. Again, being honest.) I'm afraid. I'm mad. I'm anxious and nauseous. I'm flat out miserable to say the least. I sound like a Debbie Downer or a Complainer McComplainerson. And I am. I just want to wallow and be a baby and be angry. The funny thing is, I'm afraid to be honest with God about it.

Now normally, I am a huge proponent of honesty - in relationships, with God, with blog, you know the drill. My friend Zach told me awhile ago that prayer should be two things - honest and consistent. I'm so scared to be honest. Why the heck am I afraid of being honest with God? He already knows my heart. It sounds stupid, and it is. I know this because when I finally got the guts to be honest with God today, I saw how stupid it was.

I went to Adoration (which of all the places to pray is probably the best since I forced myself to be face-to-face with the One I needed to be honest with. I couldn't avoid Him...He was looking right at me. To ignore Him would just be awkward).

So there I sat before the Lord, staring at Him for a bit, almost like a Old West stand off...who's gonna shoot first? Well, I shot. Big time. I told God how angry I was and how I was sick of being patient and how I hated thinking of Him as a parent in a toy store. You remember being a kid and your parents would take you to ToysRUS or Walmart or whatever and you'd find that one toy you wanted most of all. You'd say "Daddy, please can I have it?" And Dad would say, "Yes, but not today. Wait for your birthday/Christmas/Batmitzpha/Easter/Saturday/[insert day here]." But as you kept walking through the store, you'd bug dad more and more, "please can I have it?" And your dad would say, "If you keep asking me for it, you're not gonna get it!" I hate thinking of God like the Dad who would dangle the toy. I'm afraid that if I'm REALLY honest with God, complain about wanting something that He said I can have, that He'll refuse to give it to me because I'm hassling Him so much.

As I said this to God, and wrote it in my journal for safe keeping, I felt dumb. I told God that I felt dumb. I told Him that I knew I knew better - that He isn't like that. I had to ask Him to help me see the Truth, the Truth He has spoken so clearly before, that because I'm in this crap-hole of desolation, I can't see very well anymore. I realized, looking at what I had "yelled" in my journal to the Lord, that all the things I want and am walking up and down the aisle, tugging at His pant-leg for, He wants to give me...but first from Him.

You see, I realized today, that I don't have Him first. Big surprise, that's usually the case. I hate always realizing that because it makes me go back to the toy store analogy and I think if I don't get the whole "put God first above all else" thing, my life will be a formless wasteland. Again, not totally true, but it's how I think sometimes. It's twisted and dumb, but it's my fallen heart. My broken heart.

I can't pick up the pieces and neither can anybody else. I wish that were the case. I can see myself. I can see other people. But I can't see God who wants to love me. It's hard, Him being so intangible with His omnipotence and all. I know that I need to want to need Him. That was prayer at the end. "I want to want You. I want to WANT to want you."

It's scary. I hate it. I'm still miserable even after being honest - there was no quick fix whatsoever. I feel anxious and unsure. I want to walk through the toy store with Jesus and know that I can tell Him anything and that He loves me and wants to give me every good gift. "All good giving and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no alteration or shadow caused by change." (James 1:17)

It's so hard to believe that sometimes, especially now; that I can be honest and hurting and that He doesn't stop loving - He loves all the more. (To be honest, I'm in tears writing all of this. Sidenote, crying by yourself is NOT fun.) Oh, how I don't want to be patient, how I want things NOW, and how I want God's word to be fulfilled in my heart and in my life so that I can be with Him (and want to want to be with Him) eternally.

My friend Josh told me today (and Rachel, too) that God takes you down into what seems like the abyss, to bring you back to Him. God uses the times when we feel like we have nothing so that we can see that He is everything. I tell people this all the time and, yet again, here I sit, prepared to feast on my own words, to chow them down and hopefully keep them down.

If you see me or talk to me, please remind me that His Word never returns void, no matter the circumstances. He is God and does what He says He will. I'll remind you of it too, it's just good to be reminded of that kind of thing. Let the Lord love you honestly...I'll be trying to do the same.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce Bear

One of my favorite feelings:
Getting into a bed with ultra-fresh sheets.

One of my pet peeves:
Getting the last 4 squares of TP on a roll when I really like to have a little more than that.

As you may be able to guess, I just went to the loo and am currently sitting in my bed with super clean sheets. I love that feeling, don't you? It's classy, never goes out of style and it's comfortable...kind of like a great white V-neck tee. (I totally love those too. I have way too many. But then again, they're classy, never go out of style and are comfortable. What's not to love about that?) I love being in bed. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a total lazy bum, but it's so dang comfy! I love being a tinge chilled so that I can bundle up under all my blankets and such. Snuggle with my bear, who's name is Bear, btw.

Bear is probably my most prized possession, more so than this here lap top. Or even my passport. I could always get a new one of those. But Bear...well, he's for keeps.

I've had Bear for, oh, going on 14 years this December. He was a gift from my mom when I was 12. You see, the day after Christmas, I had to have ear surgery. When I was a wee little chick-a-dee, I had tubes put in my ears which we supposed to fall out within a year. They didn't. One fell out a few years after the fact. The other (good ol' lefty) vacated my ear drum around the age of twelve...leaving a hole behind. He failed at his job. Epically. The doctors said it was a miracle I could hear at all. (Apparently the hole was, like, a millimeter above where I would have been completely deaf. Granted, I am a tad tone deaf, but you win some, you lose some, right?) So, my brilliant father scheduled my surgery during Christmas break so I wouldn't have to miss school (how responsible) and the only available date was the crack of dawn (before God is even ready to start His day) on the 26th. Barf. Literally, I barfed after surgery. Anesthesia is potent in my body.

Anyway, when I came to, there was Bear, resting comfortably in my arms with the same bandage around his head that was around mine. It was love at first consciousness.

Bear has been with me through thick and thin. I realize that age twelve is a tid bit old to become attached to a stuffed animal. I also realize I'm probably too old to still sleep with one. But, I don't care. At all. He fits perfectly under my arm in a nice little head lock. He went with me across the ocean when I studied abroad. When I travel every summer, no matter where I go, Bear is smashed into my suitcase to be my companion.

Poor Bear has been held outside of car windows flying through the air at 70 mph (not with my permission), hung in a shower by a noose, and punched in the face by many silly boys. He has stared at me his deep eyes while I have prayed, cried and laughed. He has a certain crooked smile now from being squished so much. He's been through a lot. I kind of love him...the healthy way that one can "love" a, inanimate object.

The way Bear is faithful shows me in a strange way that God is faithful. I know it's a stretch, but stick with me. Bear stays with me through thick and thin. He doesn't speak (always...wink). He fits a special place in my heart. He has suffered greatly for me and while he may seem to others to be a little worn and tired, I know that he is always the same.

Please don't think that I'm heretically comparing my teddy bear to the Lord. The Lord is perfect, and Bear has also almost been decapitated once or twice and quickly sewn back into prime form. My God, your God, is perfect. He is steady. He is the light. He brings comfort. He may be silent sometimes, but He is always there with loving eyes and a Love so intense for us, so ferocious, so gentle, so healing, that He willingly suffers when we (especially me) want to run from the Love.  He keeps on a'comin.

God is there in the midst of it all. In the desolation, in the joys, in the little victories, and everywhere in between, He stays true. He is Truth. And Truth is Truth. It cannot change. If God were to stop Loving...well He wouldn't be who He says He is...which is I AM.

Bear is my snugly little pal. God is snugly when that is what I need, but He is also a virtue-builder...a carpenter for my heart, if you will. And as much as I fail, epically, at letting Him build my life, I always find myself resting in HIS arms, knowing that it's there that I am loved.

Tanning is gold

*I tried to post the following last night but there was some error. I am too lazy to correct the tenses. Oops.*

Random fact: Right before I sat down to write this, I tried to do a back flip off the couch. I failed. Epically. My neck hurts. That was dumb.

Today, the weather in Houston was “Africa Hot”. It was the choice of myself and two of my friends to sit poolside for the afternoon…in the heat of the day. I lubed up with some awesome sunscreen (yes mom, I used sunscreen) that contained a great bronzer, and now I am pretty golden brown.

I love being tan. It’s not a superficial thing. (Okay, it might be a little bit, let’s call a spade a spade…) I just love the feeling of being tan. I feel healthier. I assume I look better. There’s a very apparent glow about me that comes not anything having to do with hormones, and I like it.  I could sit by the water slash in the water on something that floats all the livelong day and be pretty content.

(Side note: I could also live in my swimsuit. It’s not a nudist thing or anything, it just feels good and free. I’m pretty sure that if you were to ask my mother what I was like as a child, I probably went through a phase in which I pranced around in a Minnie Mouse swimsuit and red cowgirl boots for a period of time. That was probably also around the time my parents let me dress myself – a poor choice they made which still at times has ramifications, like now. I don’t think I look awesome of anything in a swim suit, I just like feeling free and comfortable. So sue me. Okay, please don’t…) Back to tanning...

I thought about being tan as I drove my happy butt home to get ready for Mass…

When I went to Mass this evening, I was a tad bit vain and I noticed how much darker I was a few hours later. Okay, I’ll admit, I was straight up distracted because I was so giddy with the tan-ness. But something in the music tonight brought me back in to focus. A lot of the songs were about shining. And light. And love. Some of my fav things, to be quite honest. Favies. As I listened to the readings for the Sunday and the awesome homily by Father Troy, it hit me in a newer way – as much as I was happy being tan, I was changed. I like being tan because I look different. My body is physically changed when I’m tan. The melanin in my skin does a crazy wack-a-do thing and I appear different. Also, there’s an increase of Vitamin D (which, fun fact was discovered in the early 1900s to cure rickets) and there’s a connection between mood and sun exposure. People in warmer and sunnier climates are typically happier and healthier – thanks to that boost of Vitamin D and the good ol’ big yellow thing in the sky. When you are in the sun, it changes you.

You’re changed when you’re in the Son. (I know, I know…that sounds totally cliché. But things are cliché usually because they are true. They’re true and they get repeated and hence become cliché…you get the idea.) When we receive the Love of the Father, thanks to the Son, brought to you with no commercial interruptions by the Holy Spirit, we are transformed. Love transforms everything.

Now as I look awesomely “girl-next-door” tan (that’s for you Josh), and am physically different now, so too am I changed by the Love of Christ in my own heart. It starts beneath the surface. When you tan in the sun, it all begins in the lower layers of your epidermis (hello, McFly, you’re epidermis is showing – ps, that’s your skin) and melanin is released by melanocytes. (What? Are surprised? I know stuff. I had to take Anatomy and Physiology for a year in college. I know the body. I even had to dissect a cat. Different story for a different day.) Tanning starts beneath. So does love. God loves us and we in turn are changed and love Him. We may even shine that love to others. And God who is faithful (even when we are not) keeps loving us and through us. But first and foremost, loving us. You+Me=Us. I know my calculus.

Get out of your own way. Receive God’s ferocious and burning love. Let it transform you. Change you. Tan you. A side effect of it all will be a certain glow – knowing that you are loved and in turn you can love. God, your neighbor, yourself. Take some time to bask in the rays…in both senses of the word. Double entendre. Wordplay. Pun. True. Cliché, but true.

From First Class to the Last Row

Before I even get started...I have a book recommendation:

Blue Like Jazz
This book is awesome. Donald Miller is a fantastic writer with a voice (which I find similar to mine, which is comforting and familiar, and I therefore really relate to). He writes short chapters about little encounters with the Person of Christ, making Him more tangible and real. His stories are normal and part of the everyday, which "Listen in the Loo" is all about. So thank you, Donald Miller for your book. Buy it. Check it out at your library. Borrow it from a friend. Read it.

Anywho, down to business.

It has been quite some time since I've written. Oops. I have a good excuse though. Sort of...

I've been traveling for about a month with a certain program associated with a certain youth conference. It has been quite the month. I think I got on about 9 flights within a 3 week period. I was airlined out, to say the least. I have realized that I love certain airlines...and loathe others. Funny story:

So on my way from one speaking gig to another, a dear friend of mine booked my flight in first class. I was sooooooo excited. I've never flown first class (nor have I ever been in a limo, but that's a story for another day) and I was about to pee my pants from the excitement of riding in style with actual leg room and a legit snack and drink on a flight. When I was seated in my first class seat, amid all the business profs, I totes looked out of place. Here I am, a 16 year old looking kid (I am most def NOT 16) sitting next to some high-class-McBusinesspants-kind-of-men, about to pee my pants from the opportunity to sit in my big cushy leather chair. (The above picture is a slight exaggeration of an actual situation....only slight.) All of the sudden, the stewardess, who was right in front of me because I was in first class and all, announced that we would be sitting on the runway for half an hour due to bad weather in our connecting city. No biggie. Then, the pilot came on to share the little gem of a newsbite that we were be deplaning because we didn't have enough fuel to wait there for an extra HOUR due to weather. Poop. I mean, I didn't poop, but I don't want to share the actual expletive that went through my head, this is a classy site. He also said that if we had a connection we should check at the gate for possible missing of flights. That would be me. So, I left my cushy chair and ran to the desk to talk to "the man". "The man" told me that I would miss my connecting flight and re-booked me for the next morning. I tried to be all professional (because I was in first class and pretty important in the world of flying) and used my big girl words to explain where and when I needed to be. Everything got squared away and I got picked up again at the airport to stay and extra night with the fam. The next day upon my arrival and check in, I came to find out that I was rebooked on a flight that had no first class. Not only that, but once I boarded, I realized I was rebooked into the LAST SEAT IN THE LAST ROW....NEXT TO THE BATHROOM. (Oh the irony.) Talk about humility. I went from being in a cushy first class seat one day to being exiled to the seat that didn't even recline next to the loo. Poop. Literally. There was poop at some point on the flight - not mine. I smelled it. Gross. I was pissed. I told the Lord (because we're close) that I knew He was laughing at me, in a kind and loving God kind of way) but I would "offer it up". So I did. Slash complain in my head. And to the lady next to me. Oops. Hey - don't hassle me, I'm human and virtue is hard.

While I was sitting next to the loo, it hit me, that I hadn't "heard" God speak to me in over a month. In all of the times that I had gone into the "sacred silence" of the bathroom, I got nothing. I have been in a time of desolation for a long time. Don't get me wrong, I'm no mystic or anything. But as you may have ready, I hear God speak to my heart in simple yet profound ways. Now...I've got nothing. I'm in what is referred to in the spiritual life as a time of desolation. (Check out the Catechism of the Catholic Church especially paragraph 2731.) There has been a lot of God speaking to me in my life - but now, I'm just kinda.....eh. Maybe you know what I'm talking about, feeling like you're all alone and God has turned His back on you. That's mos def not the case, but it feels like that sometimes. I could go on and on about this feeling of desolation, but I won't. I'm gonna go back to the hope - the consolation.

While I was in Rhode Island a couple weeks ago, I got the opportunity to go to confession with an awesome priest named Fr. Matt. He was so cool....he had Reef flip-flops with bottle openers on the bottom. Too legit to quit. Anyway, one thing he told me was that in times of desolation, you have to cling on to and go back to the consolation...when God was speaking very loud and clear. I know that I knew that in my head, but when he said it, it went straight down, smack dab in the middle of my heart. Just because I couldn't hear God didn't mean He wasn't with me or that His truth was not real. It was all the more real. His Word goes out and doesn't return void. God speaks that through His prophet Isaiah: "So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it." (Isaiah 55:11). While I feel like I've been walking in a long hallway towards a door and now the lights have been shut off on me....it doesn't mean the door moved. I have to keep walking and not change directions. It's croosh (that's crucial) for us, when we feel as if we're in a time of desolation, to keep walking...not to stop praying of turn away from God, but to PRAY MORE, DON'T CHANGE DIRECTIONS, and BE PATIENT.

Geesh, that is hard for me. Clearly, from my experience on the plane getting kicked to the last row from the first, I threw a mini-fit to myself. But I go back time and time again to God's Word, which is always accomplished, and to the truth Fr. Matt spoke to me, and that of the people who know my heart best and I press on, sometimes begrudgingly, but I keep on. I suck at praying during desolation. It seems easier to not. But I have to make myself - which is hard because I'm not very self-motivated. I need my butt kicked by people sometimes. (Thank you Kristin, Fr. Dan, Ashley, Derek, Connor, Melea, and Stephen - you have done it oh-so-well.)

Just because I don't hear God in the bathroom right now, doesn't mean He's gone. He's still there - my will is being tested and strengthened and I'm learning (gulp) humility and becoming (hopefully) more faithful. You should too.

"Lemon out!"

(For your enjoyment and laughter because I love 30 Rock, click on it)...