Aimless Wanderings

Maybe it's just me, but I kind of thought there for a little while that life would somehow get easier or less complicated the longer I adulted.  As if the more I practiced, the easier it would get, or the longer I waited, the clearer the answers would become.

All I've learned, and especially this year, is that instead of answers, we only face more questions.  We all have our own battles that we're facing, and for the most part, we all just go around living like everything is fine. Is that because we feel we're supposed to be adults and just suck up our feelings and deal with our problems?  We hear screaming children from various corners of the store at work and we always sort of look at each other sadly and say, "That's how I feel inside."  It hurts my ears, but I admire the honesty of children, and I wish I could be that vocally honest about my own feelings sometimes.

Courtesy of my brother, from Fawnly Prints

Those brave souls who speak out about their struggles and insecurities--I admire their ability to be vulnerable, to bare their souls, to speak up so that others who are experiencing similar battles can know that they are not alone and can find comfort or perspective or fuel for their own fight.  But sometimes our battles are so deeply personal, or we are so deep in the thick of it that speaking up is not in the cards for us right now.  

So what do we do?  Keep plastering on our brave faces and plugging along like everything's fine?  

Some other alternatives are to 1) scream in the middle of the grocery store (tempting, I know) or 2) offer enough vague complaints that people have pity on us and begin to pry in well-meaning attempts to offer support, but then we remember that we actually don't want to talk about it because it's so personal and complicated that a general explanation will never do and neither will giving this person access to our deepest, darkest secrets.

Or, we can choose to continue to wander aimlessly as we strive to fight our battles with brave faces and find balance in our awkward, complicated lives.  We can learn to appreciate the present and enjoy life where we are while we wait for life where we want to be.  And we can take comfort knowing that God is with us in our wanderings.  He sees each (mis)step we take, and His hand guides us gently along the way.  

When we have a bad day--one where we're so physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted that we actually feel like this might be it, this is where we lose it completely--He gives us a new day full of new mercies.

That's right, as we finish our Head and Heart Reset yoga flow with Adriene in the early morning before work, the final twist turns our head to the window so that we see the first glimmer of morning light through the trees, the beginning of the gentle fade from black night to blue day.  And as we sit outside for morning prayer, the cool fresh air fills our lungs and the chattering of the birds soothes our souls and we are reminded that He loves us, that He is working in us even when we are filled with pain--or confusion, or disgust at our own sin, or anxiety, or depression, or anger, or questions, or all of these things and more-- that the cross must come before the glory.

When we remember that He is there with us through it all, we learn how to accept these unpleasant things as they come, even if we don't always accept them happily or patiently.  And we learn, as Rainier Marie Rilke wrote in Letters to a Young Poet, to 

". . . be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.  Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them.  And the point is, to live everything.  Live the questions now.  Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.  Perhaps you do carry within yourself the possibility of shaping and forming as a particularly happy and pure way of living; train yourself to it--but take whatever comes with great trust. . .take it upon yourself and hate nothing. . ."

You can find Alanna's music on iTunes and Bandcamp!

As I've been learning this all the hard way in the last several weeks, I've been wandering aimlessly to the soundtrack of the lovely young poet Alanna Boudreau's album Goodbye Stranger.  Her music (especially this album and her previous album, Champion) helped me to the realization of what I've written here.  By providing a lovely sound to listen to along with intricately beautiful images and poetry, her music presents and reflects great mysteries that sweetly linger and haunt my thoughts. They leave me questioning and pondering, but in such a way that I find myself able to enjoy the uncertainty, that I'm now able to sit more comfortably with my constant questions, and to explore beauty from different perspectives.

Having realized that, I find myself here, telling you, dear reader, that you are not alone in your aimless wandering, in your questions answered with more questions, in your pain, in your fight.  We are all in this together, and the great God who loves us more than we know, has us all in His capable hands.

Lay It Down

Back in January, Yoga with Adriene hosted a free series called TRUE:  30 Day Yoga Journey.  It was perfect for me since I'd just received a pretty new yoga mat for Christmas and was determined to actually start taking care of my body this year.  When I turned 30 last year, it was like a light finally flicked on in my head that told me that if I didn't start moving more, I was going to sink into the couch with the potato chip crumbs and wither away.  Since I've never been one to enjoy anything that requires too much exertion (i.e. anything that involves running), I figured becoming more serious about practicing yoga was a safe place to start.

I began the 30 day journey and added 5-10 minutes of some extra exercises (like squats, push ups--which I can actually do now--mountain climbers, etc.) every day and wow.  I noticed changes within the first week.  Not big, extravagant physical changes, but small ones inside.  For one thing, I love exercising this way.  It's slow and intentional, which is so how I prefer to live my life when I can.  I began to enjoy the feeling of becoming stronger, and of becoming more in tune with my body.  

Mostly, though, I felt myself becoming more disciplined.  Even on days when I didn't really want to come to my mat, I made the choice and felt so much better for it.  

A huge grace was coming across this quote by Saint Josemaria Escriva on a tank top at an online shop right around the time I began this journey:  "To begin is for everyone.  To persevere is for saints."  I immediately thought, "That's me!  I want to be a saint, so I must persevere!"  Now I hear those words in my heart, a whisper in the morning when I 'd rather roll over and close my eyes for a few more minutes:  Persevere.  Do it for God.  He gave you this body, now take care of it, be good and true to it.  Do this for yourself, and for any children He may give you in the future.  Don't just begin.  Keep going, persevere.

When I continually choose to take the time to come to my mat, I find that the discipline makes me more aware of all the choices before me during the day--the choices between nature and grace.  I don't always choose the right one, and I often find myself battling my natural reactions and inclinations, but I am stronger--physically, mentally, emotionally--for the fight.

A few of my favorite things.
And yes, sometimes I come to my mat with my coffee and some spiritual food for thought.

"The language of yoga teaches me how to balance my energy so I may have everything I need to serve others and help make the world a better place." 

~Adriene Mishler of Yoga with Adriene

*        *        *

I come to my mat with my intention--to be holy, to be a saint, to be a light.  I lay it down, I lay down everything I am, everything I long to be, I lay it down at Your feet, Lord.

I come here to be more in tune with my breath, with Your breath in me.  When I am in tune with my breath, my center, I am in tune with You.  I am better able to discern the line between nature and grace, better able to choose the better part, which is You.

I want to run the race so as to win.  I want to walk in Your ways, Lord, but I am broken.  I let my nature dictate my actions.  I am self-seeking.  I ignore Your grace.  I push it away.  I stumble and fall. 

Day after day, hour after hour, I find myself on my knees at Your feet, laying it all down again and again.  I come here to be better, stronger, healthier, holier.  

By Your grace, I will persevere.  I will continue to lay it all down, everything I am, everything I long to be, at Your feet.  I will surrender all to You, Lord, for You are the source of all strength, all grace.  Your power is made perfect in my weakness. 

You tell me, "Child, your sins are forgiven. . .rise, take up your mat and walk!"

I believe, Lord; help my unbelief!

A cork yoga mat I won in a raffle at work! Yay for free stuff!

Side Notes

*Motivational quotes aside, I didn't finish the series in a consecutive 30 days due to a circumstance that is a story for another day, but as soon as I was able, I retraced a few days and then kept going.  I don't practice every single day, but I practice more days than I don't.  Now that I'm stronger, more toned and disciplined, and now that the weather is finally nicer, I am ready and excited to get outside to walk (not run) and bike more, to push myself to be more fit and active and healthier all around.

*If you are interested in starting at home yoga practice (I still have never been to a class), I highly recommend Yoga with Adriene.  It's free on YouTube, and her practices are very casual (sometimes her giant dog lumbers in to join her), and are the perfect mix of focus and goofiness.  It's like doing yoga with a friend, but a friend who can't see how totally not flexible you might be. :)

* "Lay It Down," by Matt Maher: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPoxM0D_0n8

The Love Letter

Today I finished my fifteen month journey of reading the Bible in a year.

Obviously I didn't accomplish my original goal of reading it all in twelve months, but life happened and here we are.  It's weird to think that when I began, I was a whole year younger, with so many dreams and hopes for what the year would bring.  The journey wasn't anything I expected.

I struggled in the first few months to find a system that worked for me so that reading God's Word didn't feel like a chore.  Eventually I sucked it up and developed the habit of waking up fifteen minutes earlier every day so that I could take that time to sit with God and soak in His message.  Some mornings my heart was too heavy or too tired to read, so I simply sat in silence with God, or poured out my heart in my prayer journal.

Because I was no longer beginning my day with the stress, anxiety, and nonsense that often comes with scrolling through social media or watching the news, I began to feel more peaceful, and I noticed God's Spirit moving in me in a more real way.  I began to make better choices throughout my days and develop other good habits.

From the outside, my life hasn't changed much in the last fifteen months, but I honestly feel like I've been on a real journey.  I've had some beautifully fun reunions with old friends who are more like family, and I've been through some seriously dark times and struggled in silent desperation.  I've had deeply profound spiritual experiences at the beach, and had tearful meltdowns when circumstances led me to eat cold Chipotle alone in the car after a long, frustrating day at work.  I've had identity crises where I've tried to reconcile who I was with who I am with who I want to be with who God created me to be.

And all along in these growing pains and turbulent existential waters, the love letter that is God's Word has reminded me of His love, His peaceful ocean of mercy. 

And I've learned that what's even more important than loving God is recognizing this love He has for us.  His love for us is fierce and gentle, all-encompassing, unconditional.  He takes us as we are, and, if we let Him, he will make us new creations in grace.

Take this from 1 John 4:10 as His valentine to you:

In this is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the expiation for our sins.

He loves me.  He loves you.  He loves the cranky lady in line  at the grocery store.  He loves the person in front of you who failed to use their turn signal.  He loves the person in authority at work who continues to make decisions you disagree with.  He loves us.

He loves you.

It's not coincidence that Lent begins on Valentine's Day this year.  God's message of love for us is also an invitation to take the time to let Him tell us just how much He loves us.  One great way for women to do this is by signing up to receive daily Scripture readings with short reflections through Blessed Is She.  These have been a huge source of grace for me!

In addition to these daily dives into Scripture, I'm going to be re-reading one of my all-time favorite books, I Believe in Love by Father Jean C.J. d'Elbee.  Every time I read it, I am able to go deeper into the mystery of God's love for us, and He helps me to believe even more strongly in Love. I highly recommend it!

So, Happy Valentine's Day, Happy Lent, and take heart knowing that God loves you more than you will ever know!  He loved you first and He will love you forever!

Lately (i.e. Winter is Dumb, but God is Good)

"The Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." (Matthew 26:41)

But I've been wondering. . .is the spirit willing?  Lately, I think not.

Deep down, the commitment is there, but in the day to day, I'm just plain tired.

Tired of the way things are.  Tired of trying to figure out what the next step is.  Tired of trying to change things when all my efforts are met with failure.

Disappointment and frustration cloud my view of all that I should be grateful for and all the ways I can live more fully where I am.

My sins suck me down, and others around me are beginning to feel my anger and frustration since I no longer have the energy to hide it--or am I even trying anymore?

People notice, and their humbling comments bring me to my knees, and once again, Mercy intervenes.

*           *           *

"I am dead to sin and now living in Christ Jesus."

The preacher let the words sink in, then repeated them, "We must remember and live that truth:  I am dead to sin and now living in Christ Jesus."

I want to remember.  I want to live like this, to believe it in my heart, to let it pulse through my veins.

But I get in my own way.  I let the darkness of my sin, of my fear consume me--fear of my self, of who I think I should be, of who I actually am, of who I want to be, of my constant state of failure at trying to be a woman of Love.

But if I am truly dead to sin, I need not fear my weaknesses or my failings.  I will still fall, because I'm human.  But I am now living in Christ Jesus, and He will make up for all I lack, in His mercy, His grace, His goodness, His love.

*           *           *

I always have such high hopes when the New Year rolls around.  This year was no different, and even though the first week was as boring as a pile of dirt and colder and more miserable than I can really handle without turning into a monster, I still have hope.  

My reflections and ponderings of last year (and my attitude this past week) provided me with some ugly truths about myself, leading me to think that quite possibly the changes I need to make are not so much in my external circumstances, but in my soul.  I can't just keep holding on to a superficial optimism that if I endure the difficulties with a glued-on smile, that's doing God's will for my life, and everything will turn out okay.  

I need to actually open my heart and soul and life up wide to His promised Grace and Mercy and let Him do something new in me.  And I think part of opening myself up to that is letting go of my old self, the comfortable self that likes to be cozy and comfortable and watch lots of cheesy wholesome movies.  Last year I developed better habits, one being a routine of reading the Bible and praying in the morning before I go to work.  This prayer life is a good foundation, but I find myself now at a crossroads--it's time to actually live.  That means that I need to do things that scare me, but that are good for me (like doing more yoga and exercising to get into shape, like cooking healthy meals, like finding friends nearby who share my faith).

Because as I've written before, in order to love others as we love ourselves, we have to first love ourselves, to take care of ourselves, to allow ourselves to be loved by God and formed into new creations by His merciful touch.  

I want to believe with every fiber of my being that I am dead to sin and now living in Christ Jesus, and to let His Love transform me from the inside out so that with every breath I take, I am living life to the full in His Love.

I believe, Lord.  Help my unbelief!

To Believe or Not To Believe

On a cloudless autumn day, under the sky so peacefully blue, the sun shines down like rain.  The tops of the trees catch the light like fire and begin to flicker like flames in the soft breeze.

And in the midst of the warm, bright plans we make, doubt creeps in and darkness grips the soul of it all.

Sweet gray pots etched with silver words and holding baby flowers catch my eye and speak to me: Love, they say.  Joy.  Believe.  Words that remind me, words that call forth beauty, hope, peace, words that call me on to live these things in my life.

We don't need any more plants in our tiny apartment, but the words and the sweet baby orchid blossoms of white and purple beckon me.  On closer inspection, I see the pots are cracked--hence the reason they are sitting in the break room marked down for associates.   

I don't need a broken pot with another orchid in it, I tell my husband.

No, you don't, he says, but you're going to get one anyway.

He knows me well.

I find it difficult to choose only one, because I need all of these reminders!  I know that the greatest of these is Love and that in the humdrum routine of the daily grind I struggle often to be Joy, but I choose the healthiest looking plant with promising baby white blooms and it tells me Believe. 

Life goes on and continues to resist our efforts to move forward.  As darkness and doubt creep in, it would be easy to let them consume us, to crush our hope.  But there in the corner of our living room is a little broken pot that reminds us:  Believe. 

Believe.  And I know that this imperfect pot is a grace, a simple moment of beauty that God is using to show me my imperfect self and a deeper truth.

While we make our plans, we trust in God and His perfect plan.   We know that when the outcome is not what we would prefer it to be, ultimately it is what God wants, and therefore, it is perfect.  This is not always easy to grasp, but then, the cross never is.  And we know that without the cross, there would be no glory.

Without our cracks, our brokenness, our wounds, our weaknesses, our darkness, we would not need His Mercy. 

We are all imperfect, cracked and broken, but no matter how beaten and bruised we are, we always have a home with God.  He heals our wounds and uses them to make us more beautiful than we were before.  We learn to trust in Him.  And life happens and we get hurt again and again, but we continue to trust and believe in His Mercy, His Healing Love, His Goodness. 

Sometimes the wounds cut deep and take time to heal, and sometimes the darkness seems never-ending, and as we wait to feel healed, we wonder what the point is of continuing to believe, to hope.  But in the darkness and in our pain, we are closest to Him on the cross.  He holds us in His Heart so that our thirst is His thirst, and I have found that the surest way to quench this thirst for both of us is to choose to believe, to pray over and over, "I believe; help my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24).

And He will.  He will absolutely help your unbelief.  And it probably won't be at all in the way you think, but He will fix your broken pot, and in the meantime, He'll give you grace, which might look like precious baby orchids.  Or something else entirely.  Or something that you can't even see.  No matter how the grace falls--like petals, like snow, like an invisible strength deep inside you--never forget that He loves you, He loves you, He loves you!

HE LOVES YOU.

P.S.  If you're looking for a more book-length encouragement on how to keep hoping in the darkest darkness, check out Daring to Hope by Katie Davis Majors.  I highly recommend it! #goodreads
 

Slowing Down

The last few weeks have been busy for me.  I attended several workshops on how to set small manageable goals and habits for developing a prolific writing life (or whatever life you want to have, really).  In the midst of that I've been meeting weekly with a group to prepare for Marian consecration on the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary.  And in the middle of all of that, I've had some intensely stressful things to deal with.

While I enjoyed my workshops and meetings, they caused my work schedule to be even more up and down than usual and the stress was starting to take its toll.  I was so exhausted to the point where I almost wasn't sure I was going to get through work on Monday.  I was off early that day and two glorious days off in a row followed, so I had all sorts of lists going of things I wanted to accomplish and errands I needed to run.  Of course, I also had to crank out a few hours on my fiction writing project, since that's what I vowed to do in my writing workshop.

But by the time I left work on Monday, I knew none of that was going to happen.  No, not even the writing.  If I was going to survive this week, I needed to slow down and take time for myself.

It's interesting how clear it all came to me while I was taking those workshops.  I was busy making plans and creating schedules so I could follow my dream to write a book, and life happened, as life does, forcing me to reevaluate my priorities.

Like I said in my last post, writing is a part of me, and I owe it myself to write regularly.  What I've discovered for myself though is that the writing will take different forms.  Sometimes I'll have the creative energy to put into fiction (and eventually I will finish writing a book!).  And sometimes I'll need to write in my journal or on this blog in order to slow down, to reflect, to process what's on my mind and in my heart.

So yesterday I didn't venture far from home.  I enjoyed a leisurely morning, then did some basic cleaning around the apartment, walked to the nearby church for noon mass, watched an episode of Dr. Quinn (the whole series is on Amazon Prime, fyi) while I ate lunch, did some reading and journaling, walked to the library to return a few books, and then drove up to work to pick up a few grocery items for meals for the next two days just in time to give my husband a ride home.

I still accomplished some things, but I didn't kill myself over it.  I took the time to notice the clear blue sky devoid of any clouds, to feel the heat of the sun and the cool whisper of the gentle breeze, to sit on the balcony in silence and eat an apple while watching the neighborhood unfold beneath me.

And after that slow-mo day yesterday, I feel more rested.  I had the clarity to sit and write here, and there's creativity flowing in my brain again, so, depending on how the day goes, I may work on my fiction later as well.

Part of me feels guilty that I didn't follow the schedule I made for myself, especially after just coming out of those workshops!  But I think we need to learn to forgive ourselves when we don't accomplish everything we want to.  Sometimes, especially when life throws us curve balls, we have to slow down and take care of ourselves.  Otherwise, how can we ever be expected to care for others?

During these two days of slowing down, I've lived more intentionally, more mindfully, and I've reconnected with my center, which is Jesus.  He's still holding me close; He never let me go.  And He hasn't taken the pain away, but He's transforming it, and transforming me so that I can bear it with all the love with which He bears His.

This book by Fr. Michael E. Gaitley, MIC, changed my life. Just FYI.

The Way I Am

As I sit here letting my fingers glide over the keyboard, I know that it has been too long since I've really written on here regularly.  Ingrid Michaelson is playing, and I am reminded of that time her song "The Way I Am" was an incredible grace for me.

The song was new to me, but I loved it.  I was on a retreat with the Little Flowers (my household, which is like a spiritual sisterhood) my sophomore year of college.  In a moment of prayer, little introverted me received an immense grace.  I felt for the first time really and truly unconditionally loved for me.  I felt I had lived my life up until then content to hide in the shadows of my older siblings, lost in my own little introverted head.  God whispered to me that day that I am unique, that I have my own light to shine, and I don't have to compare myself or try to live up to someone else's expectations:  I have only to be me, and God will take me the way I am.

With the words of Ingrid's quirky song in my head, I felt really and truly loved and alive.

It's funny how over the years we change, and yet we stay so much the same. 

I couldn't resist!

At a workshop I recently attended, I heard it put this way:  Change is inevitable; growth is optional.

I love that.  Change will always come with time, and often without our having any control over it--seasons, age, sickness, outward obstacles that prevent us from going where we want to go.  Growth, however, is an option.  Growth is born out of our reaction to whatever life throws our way.

Lately I've been focusing on that whole, "Bloom where you're planted" idea.  Part of that blooming means first rediscovering myself.  For too long I've played the victim of circumstance.  I can't seem to get ahead making any big changes, so I'm starting small.  These small steps are creating momentum, and I find that I'm accomplishing more, but more importantly, I'm remembering who I am.  That helps me remember to do the things I love. 

By making a priority to write, I am remembering that writing is a part of who I am.  It's how I express myself, how I best communicate with others.  I have stories in me that I need to tell, and I'm letting myself tell them now.  As I allow this part of me to bloom, as I accept my need to be this person, I am being more true to myself, and that will help me not only move forward but also live more fully where I am.

In many ways, though I've changed and grown a lot over the years, I am still that immature, romantic college sophomore who made the song from an Old Navy sweater commercial her anthem.  She's a part of me, a part of who I have become, a part of who I am becoming.  The darkness that has fallen over my life these days is similar to the darkness I experienced before that revelation, but I've placed my hope once again in God and in His particular care for me.  

In my time of need, He is reminding me how much He cares for me.  He is telling me that He won't take away all the pain, because the pain brings me closer to His own suffering heart.  He wants to hold me close to His heart, to let His blood cover me and purify me.  He takes me the way I am.  He wants more for me than I want for myself, and when I give Him full reign over my life, He teaches me how to love myself better, and in turn, love others better.    

He takes me the way I am.

He takes you the way you are.

He loves us unconditionally.  Even if we keep making mistakes and falling and failing miserably and ignoring Him completely, He is still there to pick us up.  And He wants us to do this for each other.

I aspire.

Note to Self

"Cast all your anxieties on him, for he cares about you.  Be sober, be watchful.  Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking some one to devour.  Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same experience of suffering is required of your brotherhood throughout the world.  And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, establish, and strengthen you." (1 Peter 5:7-10)

 Cast all your anxieties on him,  Give him your worries, your pains, your fears, your tears.

for he cares about you.  He loves you with an everlasting love, a merciful, steadfast love.  He loved you first and will love you forever.

Be sober, be watchful.  Get off your phone.  Turn off the TV.  Be mindful of the words you say, of the thoughts you entertain.

Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking some one to devour.  Keep your eyes on God, let God be your strength, your focus, your light, so that you do not become easy prey.

Resist him, firm in your faith, Give God your yes in all things--embrace the crosses and the sufferings he sends your way, trusting that he will carry you through the darkness, no matter how long it takes.

knowing that the same experience of suffering is required of your brotherhood throughout the world.  No one is alone in their suffering, in their fight against sin.  We all experience anxiety, temptation, fear, loss, doubt.

And after you have suffered a little while, even if it seems much more than a little while,

the God of all grace who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, because he calls all of us, because he loves us dearly, more dearly than we can ever know

will himself restore, establish, and strengthen you.  You look forward to it, and hold onto the promise with hope, and in the meantime you continue to Cast all your anxieties on him, for he cares about you.

"As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my love." (John 15:9)

The Fall

This fall has been the most beautiful I can ever remember experiencing.  The warmer temperatures and glorious sunshine that lingered allowed the leaves to ripen ever so slowly, drawing out their true colors in a spectacular show of God's palette.

Treetops stand out like flames blazing over rooftops, 

     

fireworks suspended in the branches,

 

glowing yellow dappled lights that work as the sunshine's minions even on the darkest, cloudiest days.

The extraordinary beauty of it all may be a result of weather patterns, or maybe I'm just more aware.  I am at a place of serenity, where God has given me the grace to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change (or at least attempt to change) the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.  

This season has been a serene one here in small-town Ohio.  At least, as far as the beauty of creation goes.  The world is tumultuous, our country is divided, and we as a race of humans are slowly coming to grips with the ramifications of our distracted half-living. But I have hope.

Because in the mornings I see the way the sun glows rising

and spreads its light through the trees to shower the earth.

And in the afternoons when I take walks and stop a thousand times to try and capture the way the light spreads through the leaves like fire 

and my phone's camera fails to do God's creation justice, I smile, knowing that all our man-made technology will never be enough to inspire and foster hope, goodness, love, mercy.  For that, we need something, Someone greater.

Because of that, I find myself more often on my knees giving thanks and seeking mercy.  On election day, I consecrated myself to Divine Mercy, because God is BIGGER and BETTER than this mess we have created for ourselves.  

I joke that I'm an eternal optimist--95% of the time.  But I am eternally optimistic, that is, optimistic about eternity.  No matter the messes we make for ourselves or the struggles we experience in dealing with other people or with our health or with the demons in our own minds, we have hope.  

I believe in our redemption through Christ and the cross, and I believe in the hope that rises with His resurrection, and I believe in the grace of His Divine Mercy which He offers any time we ask for it.

I pray that in this time of turmoil and change, as fall fades to winter and our country transitions to the next phase and the world continues to turn, that we all find the serenity and peace of mind needed to carry on hopefully.

Love and Coffee

Coffee coffee coffee is my mantra. I love coffee.  I love trying new coffees, making coffee, sharing coffee.  When a co-worker/coffee friend gave me a delicious bag of beans from a recent trip, I thanked her for sharing the coffee with me, and she replied, "Of course, that's what coffee is for."

Communion.  Every cup is a communion.  It is the sharing, the community, the relationships between co-workers and customers that have grown and evolved over the years that I love the most.

Still, I don't necessarily want to be a barista forever.  And in the restlessness of wondering, the aching for more than pouring coffee and making lattes and being constantly sucked dry of all energy from being on my feet and socializing all day (which let me tell you, for this introvert, is exhausting), I find peace only in the One who made the stars and the sea and the coffee trees.

Gratitude is too shallow a word to describe the depth of joy I find at the gift of His peace, manifested in His mercy and grace, especially in the darkness that has recently visited.  In the exhaustion that cannot be cured by coffee (yeah, I said it), He picks up my weary soul and carries me through it all.

Just after the recent canonization of my beloved Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta, I picked up a free copy from church of With Great Love, a book of reflections on Mother Teresa by Susan Conroy, who spent time working with the saint. Saint Mother Teresa and her patron, Saint Therese of Lisieux have always been close to my heart, and I aspire to follow their examples of putting great love into the every little action, no matter how simple.

In this looooong week of work full of too many too-early mornings, God, in His mercy and grace, graced me with the perfect reflection on this very subject from Susan Conroy.  It's a lesson I have heard so many times throughout my life, and a lesson I have attempted to apply to my time working in coffee over the years.  But as I recently heard, our spiritual lives are not linear.  They are not gradual uphill climbs, but rather, they are paths full of stumbling and falling and, by the grace of God, persevering toward that seemingly ever elusive holiness and perfect communion with Him.

Every cup is a communion.  Not a perfect communion, but a communion of all our broken humanity scooped up into a mug, a chalice, a hug, a smile.

"Let every action of mine be something beautiful for God," said Saint Mother Teresa.  As she wandered the streets of Calcutta, she and her sisters performed simple tasks, such as sitting with the dying so they didn't have to die alone, or providing a blanket to someone who was shivering, or giving a glass of water to someone who was thirsty.  As Conroy describes:

"It was not the work that was extraordinary, but rather, the way in which it was done.  It was the spirit of the work that made it extraordinary: the spirit of love, humility, tenderness and respect with which each human being was touched and held and cared for.  It was precisely this spirit of love and humility that made Mother Teresa a saint and made every action of hers 'something beautiful for God.'

"It is always about the love.  Love, love, love.  Mother Teresa said that this is the reason we exist--to love and serve God by loving and serving one another....

"It doesn't matter how much we give, but rather how much love we put in the giving.  [Mother Teresa] encouraged us to 'put love into everything you do, and you will be fulfilling your vocation.'

"'God is Love,' Saint John the apostle tells us.  Do everything with God.  Do everything with 'the fullness of charity' in your heart, and you will be fulfilling your duty and your destiny in a way that is most pleasing to God."

No matter what I do, even as I search for work beyond barista-ing, I can put love into each little action, into each cup of coffee I pour, into each dish I wash, into each person I meet.

Yes, coffee coffee coffee is my mantra, but what is coffee all about?  It is about the people, the communion, the love.

"It is always about the love.  Love, love, love."

 

 May we never forget.  <3  

At the Heart of It All

Whenever we turn on the news these days, someone else has died a violent death.  Or dozens have.  Or hundreds.  It's sickening, confusing, and frightening.  We don't know how to process it.  We often turn to social media where commentaries and arguments have sprung up pointing the finger at others in blame and isolating the problem to one issue, race, religion or another.

But isn't that part of the problem?  Isn't it a problem that we are so ready to jump to conclusions and harsh judgments and stereotypes of our fellow man?  That we are determined to see the worst in one another, and to take sides against one another?

It's easy to be discouraged as these horrific events continue to unfold around the world, across the ocean, in our own neighborhoods.  It's a natural reaction to want to lay blame somewhere.  We want to see someone come to justice.  But there isn't any one person at fault here.  We are all part of the problem.

As a society, we have become selfish, rude, demanding, quick to anger, quick to judge, quick to blame others for our own mistakes.  We are a culture of waste, and we have begun to see one another as disposable.  We don't see each other as human beings.  We see the car in front of us driving like an idiot and it fills us with road rage.  We see our service workers as robots or low-lifes and treat them like crap.  We see the woman with the screaming child in the grocery store and judge her for obviously being a terrible parent.

We don't take the time to put ourselves in another's shoes, to recognize the difficulties that the people around us are facing, to see ourselves in one another.

We are all part of the problem, because we are all human. Rather than be discouraged by that, though, we should take heart in it.  Since we are all part of the problem, we can all be part of the solution.  We are all in this together.

We can stop pointing fingers, stop labeling the symptoms of the problem (racism, terrorism, homophobia) and acknowledge the root of all the problems:  our lack of respect for the dignity and equal value of each and every human life.

We can start overlooking the small annoyances and frustrations we feel from other people in our daily lives.  We can treat each other with kindness and patience, whether or not we receive the same treatment back.  We can attempt to understand the differences of others, rather than fear or hate them.

This isn't easy to do, by any means, but if we all stop making hateful, angry commentary on the tragedy and start feeling it in our hearts, we can work together to slowly but surely bring about peace.

I recognized yesterday my part in the problem when I received some news about an old, loyal friend. I learned that she is joining forces with someone that I believed we both couldn't stand.  When I thought of all those years I had to stand between them and fight them off one another, I was shocked that now they would be uniting as a team. I don't know the details of the situation, but my initial reaction was to feel betrayed and hurt that my friend would consort with the "enemy" in this way.

When I felt the word enemy rise up in my heart, I remembered the horrible, hateful killings of recent days.  Is this person really an enemy?  This is a person who we had perpetual misunderstandings with, but who never meant us any real harm.  We chose to hold on to angry, bitter grudges and refused to ever see this person as a person, but rather as an obstacle to our freedom.  But the real obstacle was in our hearts, a wall we had built ourselves to keep this person out, to side against this common enemy.

I want so much to stay angry, bitter, hateful even, toward this person, but I know that if I see someone like this person as an enemy, I am part of the problem.  If I can't forgive and let go of petty grudges and the annoyances that this person's differences have caused me over the years, how can we let go of hate in our world?

I remember my loyal friend's constant example of a pure love for Jesus, of her ability to love easily, even to the point of folly.  And maybe she has found a way in her heart to forgive this person, to love this person despite their differences, so that they can work together in peace.

That is peacemaking, friends.  That is the solution.  Letting go of grudges.  Choosing love, kindness, generosity in the littlest things of every day.  Smiling while going through the motions.  Responding to rudeness with kindness and patience.  Truly desiring what is best for other people, desiring their success, their well-being--whether or not we like them.  Forgiving others so that the walls in our hearts can be destroyed by love, so that all we have in our hearts is love.

In a few days, we will likely have forgotten about these tragedies, or moved on to mourning the next ones.  But let's please, please, please never forget that we belong to one another.  That all us humans are in this together.  

Please.

Monday Morning Musings

Life has been getting me down more often than not lately, but I've been doing a lot of much needed reading and reflection.  (I recently re-read St. Therese's Story of a Soul, and for Advent I am re-reading Consoling the Heart of Jesus by Father Michael Gaitley .  I *highly* recommend them both!)

The last two weeks have just not been good, and I needed a new one.  I was so thankful as I walked to work in the angry, gusting wind this Monday morning that it was a new day and a new week and I could start fresh.  And that even though it was mid-December I only needed a light jacket!

The first thing I saw when I got to the coffee bar was a note from an old co-worker and dear friend, who must have visited the store the night before and couldn't leave without leaving her love.  As is her way.  I was so warm and light inside knowing that even though the time and place are gone for good, there is still so much love in the club.

The morning was going smoothly until my first customer rubbed me the wrong way.  Yes, I know that I should know better than to let half-sleeping people get to me so early in the day, but it happens.  And it stirred up feelings of frustration and anger at how rude, inconsiderate, and thoughtless people can be.  

I prayed, "Lord, how am I supposed to love this?  This behavior hurts my pride.  It's inhumane.  How do I just smile and not let this get to me?  Surely you don't want me to simply ignore this injustice?"

Jesus' face came to mind, sweaty and bloody as he hung on the cross.  He tried to answer me with his voice but all he could do in his pain was gasp for breath, and then I didn't need an answer--grace intervened to make it clear:  He is in pain too.  And there's something I can do about it.

As a kid in a Catholic home, I very often heard the phrase, "offer it up" when life's injustice's hurt me.  All that meant to me as a kid though, was that I should "suck it up" because my problems weren't real problems in the grand scheme of things.  

What it really means to "offer it up," is to offer up my pain--of inconsideration, of other people's ignorance, of humiliation, of biting back snarky replies, of silencing my complaints, of keeping my gossipy observations to myself--

in union with Jesus' pain--of his passion, of rejection, of betrayal, of sin.  

It's the same as sitting with a friend when they are hurting.  You can't take away their pain, but you can sit with them and console them to help lighten their load.

When we offer up our suffering in union with Christ's, these sacrifices made in love, console Him.  This opens His Heart and allows the rays of His Love and Mercy to shine through us.

As St. Therese said, "To pick up a pin for love can convert a soul."  It's these little acts that, done with the eyes of our hearts fixed on Jesus, become acts of love and make all the difference.  

So at work, I displayed cookies with love, and brewed coffee with love, and cleaned up sweet, sticky messes with love, and listened patiently to things that I had less than zero interest in with love.  Another customer annoyed me and I took a moment to breathe in my frustration, prayed that Jesus transform it, and breathed out His Mercy with love.

Feeling full of love, I drank my coffee like I did in the old days before I gave up (*read as: tried to give up) dairy: in a ceramic mug with some good old  whole milk.  My hope was that even though it might upset my stomach, the vitamin D in the milk might help make up for my current state of D-deficiency due to lack of sunshine.

It was delicious, but the fact remains that I am highly dependent on the sunshine for my happiness. (Note, "happiness," not "joy."  There's a difference.)

These last few days have been gloomy and overcast, but warmer than usual for December.  Saturday felt very much like it did when I was in Seattle last October.  I loved Seattle and Portland, and every bit of the Pacific Northwest that I saw.  It's gloomy a lot there too, but at least it's near the coast where the ocean is a constant reminder that there is a whole world out there beyond the gloom.  Here in Ohio, we're landlocked, and rather than rain clouds, we have whitish, grayish blankets of clouds that cover us for days to the point that I begin to feel claustrophobic.

Anyway, my coffee tasted like sunshine this morning, and after a few hours of rain, the dark lumpy clouds stretched apart just enough so that the light caught our eyes and we looked out the window, barely believing that it could be real, and yet...there..."stupid cloud, move over just a little bit more"...there it was...THE SUN!

Thank You, Jesus.  For everything.

I Thirst

I thirst--I want to be good, I want to love as Jesus would have me love.  I want to forget all my fears and live for Him and Him alone.  I often feel as though I am not doing enough, like I should be doing more with my life.

I admit that at times I have been ashamed to tell people what I do for a living.  I'm in my late twenties and when asked about my profession my answer is, "I'm a barista."  If you were to ask me ten years ago where I would be today, my answer certainly wouldn't have been that.  But I am not the same person I was ten years ago.

Life happens, and in the last ten years, I feel I have lived a dozen lifetimes.  Each lifetime was necessary for me to be who and where I am today.  Each experience has been full of lessons, riddled with joy and pain and mistakes and victories.  Perhaps the greatest lesson that I have learned, the one I continue to learn each day, is one I have written about many times here:

Every cup is a communion.

I would like to say that every cup I serve is one of love, one of humble self-giving.  But the occasional demanding, hateful people I encounter make my job painful, make me feel like dirt, and I know that I shouldn't let it get to me, but I do.  It does.  Because I'm human.

*sigh*

And I would like to say that every day I go to work thinking of how I can share the love of Christ with others, how I can be kind to everyone, how I can bite my tongue from gossip and only speak about the good stuff.  But I don't, because I'm human.  And it's 4:30 in the morning.

But seriously, I thirst.  I desire to be holy, but it's so easy to be distracted:  by drama at work, by silly TV shows on Netflix, by the comforts of home.

In His typical mysterious ways, God brought me back to attention this past Sunday.

My husband and I both had to work, so we went to the early Mass together.  Though neither of us was happy that we had to work all day, it seemed that there could be no better way to begin our work day than by participating in the sacrifice of the Mass together.  (Is there really a better way to begin any day?  Of course not, but we're human, so we often fool ourselves into thinking otherwise.)

At communion, I recognized one of the Eucharistic ministers offering the cup as a regular customer from work.  Many early mornings during the week he comes in to our coffee bar to start his day with a cup of coffee:  a large light roast with room for cream.

And that Sunday morning, there he was, offering the cup, the Blood of Christ, at communion.  I was struck by how small the world is, by how we are all connected someway or another in the Body of Christ, by how every cup is a communion.

Certainly, the cups of coffee I serve in the early mornings are not in any way the same substance as the Blood of Christ, but if I offer them with love, if I am able to die to my self to offer them humbly, even to the hateful, demanding people of the world who belittle me, if I can serve them with a smile, they are, in a sense, cups of communion.

As a human, I fail and I will continue to fail, but I will keep trying.  I know that God thirsts for me, thirsts for all of us.  If we can learn to come to Him, even when we don't feel like it, even when we don't feel worthy, He will pour down His mercy and grace to fill our cups, and we can share that with others.

"I thirst for You. Yes, that is the only way to even begin to describe My love for you.  I THIRST FOR YOU.  I thirst to love you and to be loved by you--that is how precious you are to Me.  I THIRST FOR YOU.  Come to Me, and I will fill your heart and heal your wounds.  I will make you a new creation, and give you peace, even in all your trials I THIRST FOR YOU.  You must never doubt My mercy, My acceptance of you, My desire to forgive, My longing to bless you and live My life in you.  I THIRST FOR YOU.  If you feel unimportant in the eyes of the world, that matters not at all.  For Me, there is no one any more important in the entire world than you.  I THIRST FOR YOU.  Open to Me, come to Me, thirst for Me, give Me your life--and I will prove to you how important you are to My Heart." ~from the "I Thirst" meditation, Blessed Mother Teresa

Related posts: The Best Latte, Grace You Can Taste, Thankfully, Taste of Heaven, and So Much Love in the Club.

Death By Mocha

Happy National Coffee Day!!!

After a morning of  making countless $1 Pumpkin Spice Lattes, you might think that I wouldn't want to spend my afternoon writing about it.  HOWEVER, I drank a PSL myself and have that caffeine and sugar coursing through my veins and sparking inspiration all up in my heart and soul.

I came home and finally looked up this 20/20 story my mom has been telling me about, about baristas and the horrible things they do to people's drinks.  I found it fascinating.  I can relate to these bitter baristas.  In fact, just yesterday I had a moment of understanding as I realized the reason we get so frustrated with customers and they get so frustrated with us is that we are not speaking the same language.

The language we speak is that of well-trained and experienced baristas.  We know where these coffees come from, the altitude at which they are grown, the anatomy of a coffee plant, the names of the farmers who grow it, how the coffees are processed, what each step in the process entails, and what each step means for how that coffee will ultimately taste when we brew it, not to mention what all the variables are in the brewing process and how they affect the taste of the coffee.

The language our customers speak, on the other hand, is often (not always, but often) a twisted mess of coffee terms made popular by places from McDonald's to Starbucks to Intelligentsia.   They often know only that they need something to wake them up, or that they like caramel frappes, or that they hate coffee and want a coffee drink that doesn't taste like coffee.

The biggest challenge of our jobs as baristas is to pick through and translate the layers of this language in order to discern the unique palates of our many customers so that we can find the right drink for them--all in the most fast-paced, efficient, and pleasant way possible.

In general, baristas are grossly underpaid and undervalued for these intricate skills.  This only causes more bitterness and frustration as they attempt to read their customers minds, create personalized, handcrafted beverages, and navigate the crowds of zombie-like people dying for their daily caffeine fix on their way to work and school--all before 8 am.

In the 20/20 interview, the baristas spoke of decaffeinating rude people's coffee, or adding extra charges to their drinks.  I understand the desire to do these things--it's extremely tempting sometimes!  As anyone who has ever worked in customer service will tell you, people can be downright nasty.  It can be very disheartening, especially for those of us with the determined Anne Frank-attitude to see the good in humanity.

Thankfully, there are plenty of really wonderful people we encounter every day too!  These wonderful souls of grace who very clearly recognize us not as machines but as humans like themselves, are often what get us through the seemingly never-ending days.

I actually started writing a coffee shop musical back in college, based on my experiences.  It was a sad little story line, but this video beautifully portrays (*minus the bit of vulgarity*) the plight of the modern barista, set to a familiar musical:




What stuck out to me most was their question "When will I be redeemed?"

Well, here's what I've learned:  they have already been redeemed.  We all have.  It's a matter of accepting the sacrifice that paid our way out of this "hell" we're living.

We can't always change our situation (especially in this economy) and land our dream jobs right out of college (or even four years out of college), and in the meantime, we have to pay rent somehow.  We can't change how people act towards us, but we can change how we act toward them.  Instead of being the pretentious coffee know-it-alls we are stereotyped to be, we can adopt a servant's heart.

We can serve coffee with genuine joy and love.  We can be kind even to the rudest customers (you never know what horrible experiences someone might be going through!).  We can swallow our own opinions of what makes a good coffee and instead maintain the attitude that everyone has different tastes.

I have worked in coffee for 6 years, which is 4 more than I ever anticipated (trust me, I never anticipated being in management, but here I am).  As a whole, I have loved my experiences.  I love the people that I've met, the skills and knowledge that I've gained, the free coffee I've been allowed to drink, and even the work itself.  It's fun!  Some days I look around in gratitude and shake my head in wonder thinking, "They actually pay me to do this!"

Other days though, I shake my head thinking, "There is not enough money in the world. . ."  I find myself struggling through the daily grind to be happy and nice to people when I just want to sit in a corner and be angry and frustrated.  I get so tired (the kind of tired that is beyond caffeine's reach) of  being outgoing (I'm an extreme introvert) on a daily basis and being up for hours before the sun.  It's these days that make me ask the question:  what am I even doing here?

What I have come to understand through it all, is that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.  In all my vain attempts to get out, I still sought God's will for my life.  My ultimate goal, after all, is not a successful career, but holiness.  God gave me glimpses of what may lay ahead, and with those glimpses, reminders that as much as I want to be, I am not ready for the next step.

Even though I have days where I curse the ground I work on (by the way, we actually call the ground we work on the IBG, because we believe our bar was built on an Indian burial ground), and want to cry at the sad state of humanity, and then I spill brown mocha powder all over my black pants, I believe it is all part of the process. It is part of growing up, yes, but most importantly, a part of being humbled, of dying to myself.

If we are to be redeemed, we must first die to ourselves, so that we may rise again with Christ:

And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. [Luke 9: 23-24)

The particular slow and painful death God has chosen for me just happens to be death by mocha.

I still fail and fall frequently, but I am reminded over and over again of His redeeming love, mercy, and faithfulness.  I encourage you, wherever you are, to accept your form of "death" as the grace to participate in the fullness of your redemption.  It's all we can do, really.

But in the meantime, we'll do some of this too:

Shelby's Last Latte

Redeeming Love

It was a scene in Jesus of Nazareth that struck me to the core: when the sinful woman came and washed the feet of Jesus with expensive ointment and her tears.  That woman was me.  That was me on the chapel floor letting my tears fall at the foot of the cross because I am unworthy.

And yet, I am loved.

I am loved to an unimaginable degree.  Loved beyond comprehension.  Though I stumble, though I sin again and again, I am loved.  We all are.

It is a redeeming love that pursues each of us.  A knocking at our hearts to be opened.

Jesus came for the sinners, not the righteous.  To the would-be killers of the adulteress he says,"Let he who is sinless cast the first stone."

 

No stones were thrown that day.  Why?  Because no one is perfect.  We are full of weaknesses, struggles, fears.  We make mistakes and bad decisions. Therefore, Jesus came for all of us.  He died for all of us.  As he hung on the cross, in the last breaths before his death, he forgave all of us.  By his blood, we are forgiven, and redeemed, no matter how grave our sins.

I've learned that this redemption is not exactly passive on our end.  God has done all the work, yes, but it comes down to a movement of the will to believe.  Often this is the hardest part--getting over ourselves enough to be humbled to the point of of accepting that we need Him.

Sometimes we believe that we are righteous enough, that our sins are not so great that we really need him.  I really am a good person, and that's enough.  It's not enough.  Heaven isn't earned--it is desired with the whole will, with all heart and soul.  You have to really want it.

When we want it, we find ourselves confessing our sins regularly.  I find that I confess the same sins over and over, and Jesus says "Go and sin no more," and I wonder how that's possible.  I wonder if I've really even been set free.  If I were truly set free, wouldn't I be able to stop doing the same stupid things?  Why can't I make it out of the church parking lot before sinning again?

"Forgiveness is only real for those who have discovered the weakness of their friends and the sins of their enemies in their own hearts, and are willing to call each human being their sister and brother." (Henri J. M. Nouwen)

I'll be honest--I'm generally not willing to call the angry, hateful customer my brother.  I'm not willing to call the obnoxious woman in line in front of me my sister.  I'm not willing to acknowledge that I have neglected to use my turn signal before too.  I'm not willing to let other people have their bad days.  I am not willing to forgive, but I expect to be forgiven.

"To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you." (C.S. Lewis)

It all comes down to a movement of the will to believe.  And maybe the truth is that I don't want to believe.  Maybe there's a part of me resisting, because I know that to go and sin no more is going to be extremely painful--the death of my pride and my self.  Maybe I believe the fact that I am forgiven just as much as I believe the fact that I will sin again.  That is where the problem lies--when I focus too much on my own faults (or even too much on the faults of others), and weaknesses, and sins, and not nearly enough on Jesus.

His grace is enough.

He does not condemn us.  Neither should we condemn each other, or judge each other, or even criticize each other.  We need to try to understand each other, because "To understand all is to forgive all."  (Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited) 

I believe that this is key to learning how to love our neighbors as Christ loves us.  To try to understand where they are coming from, and to meet them where they are at is what we are called to do.  It's what Jesus does for us.  It requires patience, and the constant swallowing of our pride, and often we fail, but that's what confession is for--to receive that kiss from Jesus on the forehead, to hear him say, "Neither do I condemn you.  Go and sin no more."

I aspire.

And I'm finding that the best way to do all of this, is to come to know Jesus better, through the gospels, the sacraments, the liturgy, prayer.  The more I seek him, the more I find him.  He's often in the most unlikely places, but he's always there, waiting with open arms for us to come to him.

I want to believe, Lord; help my unbelief!

The Wedding Party

We live in an age where marriage is constantly discredited and written off.  I hear all the time, "Oh, I don't believe in marriage."  And "You should just do what you want."  I find it ironic that in a time such as this when marriage is held in no to little regard, when people marry two or three or four times because "marriage doesn't work," everyone also suddenly wants "equal rights" for marriage.

Think about it.

Sex and children have been separated from marriage.  Sex has become a recreation, an expression, a source of "self-discovery" for teenagers who are taught birth control because "they're going to do it anyway, and we don't want them to have to face the consequences of their actions."  This is dangerously unrealistic.

Life is a series of choices and consequences.  It kills me when young girls who find out that they are pregnant claim, "I don't know how it happened."  What are they being taught in sex ed?  Are educators sugar coating the FACTS OF LIFE with condoms and oral contraceptives?  How is that educational?  Or healthy?  Teenagers learn little except that they can do whatever they want as long as they use protection.  Well why aren't they being told to protect their hearts?  Why aren't they being told that they are valuable, they have dignity, brains, and talents and their worth is not dependent on losing their virginity?  Why aren't they being told that giving someone everything they want is not how you build a relationship of mutual trust and respect?

This distorted reality of "casual," "experimental" relationships is not inspiring people to suddenly settle down into loving, committed marriages.  Nor does it teach them the value of strong marriages as the foundations for happy, well-adjusted families.  But these families are necessary to the foundation of society.

Still, I find it ironic that it wasn't until this time when marriage and family have been obscured and broken and "modernized" that there has been an incredible increase in public support for same-sex marriage.  I guess I don't understand why the same people who think marriage "doesn't work" are suddenly so intent on letting anyone take part.  It's not that I don't think same-sex couples can have loving, committed relationships, or that they shouldn't have the same rights as everyone else, it's that I hold that marriage is not even a political issue, it's a spiritual one.

Mother Teresa spoke often of the spiritual poverty of the West.  It's a lukewarm, numbed down, "believe in anything and stand for nothing" kind of spiritualism.  Because I stand for things that make people uncomfortable (i.e. life vs. abortion, the traditions of my faith, the awesomeness of nuns, marriage, natural family planning) I am often seen as a close-minded, heartless, judgmental bigot.

Which is funny, because I'm actually a very understanding person.  Just because I believe these things doesn't mean I judge people who don't.  It doesn't mean I don't have the reason and the heart to see where other people are coming from and learn to understand why they think the way they do.  I only ask that I receive the same respect.

So when I say that I believe in marriage, that I don't believe in divorce, that I believe marriage is between a man and a woman, that I don't believe marriage is a magical spell that binds people together happily ever after, that I believe it is not to be entered lightly because it is not a walk in a park but a road to salvation, I say it from my heart, not from my Catholic cradle as a mindless recitation of old-school traditionalist beliefs that were shoved down my throat.  These beliefs come from the heart of an educated woman who has had a lifetime encounter with Christ via Catholicism, which she accepted fully only after coming into a fuller understanding of it, its traditions, and its teachings.

I also don't spout my beliefs as a holier-than-though preacher (God knows I am far, far from perfect), but as a person who loves people and desires the greatest good of all humanity.  I believe Jesus shows us what true humanity and true freedom are.

I believe that we are all destined to communion with God, which is why I love weddings.  I believe that weddings are the earthly taste of the love and glory we will find in heaven.  Yes, in a way, I believe that heaven is one giant, never-ending wedding reception, but not the kind we have here on earth (I do hope there's an open bar. . . ;-) ).  I believe it is the marriage of Christ and His Bride, the Church, the wedding feast of the Lamb.  It is something spectacular and glorious beyond all human imagination, but something we receive a taste of at every Mass, and at every wedding.

In heaven, there are no lonely bridesmaids drinking the night away with drunken groomsmen, wondering when it will be their turn.  The bridesmaids and groomsmen are the angels (this may not be theologically correct, but my friend Angie and I like to think that it is).  There are no women abused verbally, physically, or emotionally.  There are no adulterous encounters to tear families apart.  There is only God in all His Glory and endless Mercy, loving us unconditionally.

What we experience of this union on earth is imperfect, and corrupted by our sinfulness, but it is a taste of what we hope for.  At a wedding, we watch the groom's face light up with love and anticipation as the woman he loves processes down the aisle toward him.  It's the same love and anticipation Christ has for us as He waits for us in heaven.  The aisle to heaven, however, is not covered in rose petals scattered by our niece in a sparkly dress.  It is lined with roses and thorns, sickness and health, suffering and joy, good times and bad.  It is narrow, but, thankfully, we don't have to walk it alone.

God said, "It is not good for man to be alone," so he gave man a woman.  Together they sinned, he banished them from paradise, and then he sent his Son to give up his own life in order to redeem them.  We are all called to follow Christ's example, to lay down our lives for one another, to pour out our lives for one another.  Some of us are called to do this in marriage, but marriage isn't supposed to be easy--it is a way to salvation.  The wedding represents the ultimate goal of heaven, and the joyful union we'll find there.  The marriage, the life of "happily ever after" is the walk down that really long, narrow aisle--but waiting there at the end is our first and forever truest love, Jesus Christ.

The best part is that God does not abandon us during this journey.  He sends loving family and friends, as well as the Holy Spirit to be with us and guide us along the way so we can enter eternal life with him.  That's why, even when we make mistakes, even when we hurt and deny him, even when the going gets tough and we feel like he doesn't see us anymore, even when the life we planned with him doesn't turn out at all the way we dreamed it would and we want to just give up, He still loves us.

Marriage (any vocation for that matter) requires that we first die to ourselves and give of ourselves freely, totally, faithfully, and fruitfully all the days of our lives.  And when our lives on earth are over, we get to enter heaven, where there will be an epic party to celebrate.