May: The Month of Mary

Yes, we Catholics have a whole month devoted to Mary.  Not devoted to worshiping her, but devoted to seeking her intercession and learning how to be more like her. We entrust ourselves to her care.  Why?  Many reasons, but to put it simply:  because God entrusted Himself to her.  This woman was pure and sinless, a humble Jewish woman who trusted God with her whole life, body and soul.  She carried the Son of God inside herself, gave birth to Him, raised Him.  Then she felt a sword pierce her immaculate heart as she watched her perfect, sinless boy suffer under the crushing weight of our sins.  While He was on the cross, He offered her to us:  "Behold, your mother." (John 19:27)  He gives her to his beloved disciple (HINT:  that's YOU).  We would be fools not to accept her motherly love and guidance.  After all, if we want to be like Jesus, shouldn't we entrust ourselves to the same motherly love and guidance He had while on earth?  I mean, I think so.

If you aren't convinced (okay, even if you are), check out  Father Michael Gaitley, MIC's 33 Days to Morning Glory:  A Do-It-Yourself Retreat in Preparation for Marian Consecration.  The book contains thoughts and reflections of Mary by Saints Louis de Montfort, John Paul II, and Maximilian Kolbe as well as Blessed Mother Teresa.  Insightful and inspiring, it's a great explanation of how Mary helps us grow closer to her Son.

If you're looking for a shorter, simpler way to grow closer to Mary, try the 31 Days of Mary.  I don't remember how or when or where, but at some point while I was at school, I stumbled on this gem of a devotion for the month of Mary.  For each day of the month of May, there is a virtue of Mary and a little blurb for reflection.  It's a simple way to meditate on Mary each day during the month we devote to her.  I've searched online and can't find the source of this simple prayer, so, hoping that I'm not infringing on anyone's rights, I typed it up, made a few adjustments, and posted it on this blog in the right hand column under "Pages."

May it bring you closer to Our Lady and Our Lord!

Easter Rising

When I was reminded a few weeks ago that Lent was coming up, I groaned dismally.  I believed that trudging through this insufferable and eternal winter was quite enough penance for one year, thank you. The constant frigid temperatures and never-ending snowfall have made this winter bitter.

Lent and those 40 days of hearing that awful song "Ashes" sung at church simply didn't appeal to me.  And the thought of offering up any sort of sacrifice for another 40 days was absurd.  Haven't we all given enough?  Hasn't winter sucked us dry?

It seems everyone has been having a tough time of it, having emotional and mental meltdowns in the face of this interminable deep freeze.  I have felt the crushing weight of the weather while struggling with a spiritual dryness and trying to make some real changes in my life, but change isn't happening fast enough for me.

I've come to realize though, after several of my own meltdowns and encouragement from the loving support I am so thankful to have, that I am doing all that I can do to make changes in my life.  That, while life appears to be at a standstill, God still has more for me to learn where I am.  It doesn't mean changes aren't coming, but that they need to come from within first.

I looked back at my attitude in the last few months and I saw that the bitter cold inside me was much more damaging than the cold outside.  I've begun to change my attitude, to attempt to see everything as a gift, to attempt to move outside of my self and to really and truly see and love others.  It's hard, but I'm trying.  And I'm not foolish enough to try on my own--I'm seeking grace.

It's funny, in all these years I've been on my spiritual journey, I've never had such a strong desire to change.  I think that has to do with the winter, because I am so desperately in need of springtime outside, I can feel that desire for Easter flooding my veins.  Even as I go about my day at work and I am confronted with a particular problem, I pray for grace and I feel that Easter light rising within me.  It doesn't last long, but it's there, I can taste it.  Even though I fail five minutes later and give in to sin, I know that I'm on my way, supported by His love and mercy.  I can taste the hope that Christ is coming, and that His Rising will be so very sweet.

So to all of you who may be struggling with this endlessly bitter winter, I pray that you find the love of God abiding within you, and welcome Him with joy and peace.

Hope for Humanity

I discovered a few months back a story about a normal guy my age-ish doing something simple, artistic, and beautiful:  taking pictures of people in New York City and putting them up on a blog and other social media sites.

As I looked at these photos and read their captions, I found myself laughing, crying, relating to, and wondering about these people.  Some looked like they could be my friends, some made me slightly uncomfortable, some made me intensely curious.  They showcased the colorful spectrum of humanity in one of the biggest cities in the world.

Brandon Stanton set out merely to create a photographic census of New York City with Humans of New York (HONY).  As he started photographing people though, he started talking to them, and actually taking the time to make connections and get to know them.  Now he adds stories and captions to the photos to give us a further glimpse into the lives behind the faces.

I can't get enough of it.  Not because it's a form of speculation or entertainment, but because it offers a glimpse into the heart of humanity.  I've never been to New York, but I see in these faces the faces of my customers, my co-workers, my family and friends, my self, my God.

Brandon's photographs capture simple moments of beauty that the average pedestrian probably wouldn't notice.  They display the beauty of creation and the beauty of man's interpretation of creation.  Some photos and stories raise controversial questions, but that's not the point of the project.  The point is to present truth and beauty, to present raw humanity in all of its beautiful imperfections.

HONY reminds me of God's unfailing love and incredible imagination, and for that, I am grateful.

I am reminded too that for those of us struggling to figure out life after college in a lousy job market, we can still make a difference simply by doing what we love.  It doesn't have to be big or complex.  Simple and beautiful is all it takes, and great things can come from that.

Abiding

The creeping cold of winter freezes the soul, and the dry darkness sets in.

In those dark moments, everything you do feels like failure, and everything you want to change you can't change yet.  Patience isn't asked; it's required.  Virtue by default.

The weight presses down, squeezes out a tear here and there.  And then there's the darkest moment--when the soul is black and blends in with the darkness, but the Shepherd's voice calls out, searching for His beloved lost sheep.

In the darkness, you, His beloved lost sheep, cannot see Him, but you hear His voice:  "My child, I am here."

He is here, and you feel His presence.  You see before you a heavy wooden cross, splinters sticking out at the ends.  He hands it to you and you see all of your weaknesses and all of those things beyond your power  nailed to the cross.  It's too heavy for you.

"I can't--" you say, but He puts His arms around yours and embraces you with the cross.

"I am with you," He assures you.

You can't help falling in love.  You embrace the cross too, and light fills you.  The weight is not lifted, but you are able to carry it.

"I will do these things for you," He says.  "Just stay with me, daughter.  Abide with me, in my love."

You nod and say, "I trust You.  I trust You, my Jesus. I trust You."

"I will be with you always.  Stay with me, and abide in my love.  I will make you new."

O my God, fill my soul with holy joy, courage, and strength to serve You.  Enkindle Your Love in me and then walk with me along the next stretch of road before me.  I do not see very far ahead, but when I have arrived where the horizon now closes down, a new prospect will open before me, and I shall meet it with peace.  ~St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein)

Mallows

On New Year's Eve we drove to Minnesota for a wedding.  The new year dawned somewhere between Indiana and Illinois.  It had started snowing and he was focused on keeping the car under control so that we didn't die.  I was marveling at how quickly the roads had gone from black to white.

As we slipped between time zones without a countdown or a ball drop or waiting around watching the clock, the new year slipped in without fanfare, just a continuation of the year before.

But then, aren't they all anyway?

I think about last year, how I considered it The Unexpected Year.  I had no real expectations for myself or the year.  I had no idea what it had in store, but I offered it to God with my trust, knowing that all I could do was change my attitude.  I call the result growing pains.

I was promoted at work to a manager in training, then when my former boss quit, I got her job.  I achieved a new level of barista certification.  My old college roommate got engaged.  My brother got engaged.  My friend from school got engaged to my cousin.  I turned another year older and I realized that I was too focused on what would happen next that I forgot to enjoy the moment.  From then on, I let myself enjoy the moments and feel the pain.

I learned to take stress at work in stride, to do everything in my power to handle stressful situations, and let the rest go.  I learned so much from the incredible women I work with.  I learned to do my job the best I can, but to not take it or myself so seriously.

I took a road trip to the mountains of Pennsylvania with the man I love.  We took a road trip to Baltimore for my brother's wedding where we had a great time and I gained a sister.  I took a road trip with some family to Iowa for the wedding of my friend and my cousin and I was so happy I kept crying.

I came home and celebrated two years with the man I continue to fall deeply in love with everyday.  We geared up for the holidays and our big road trip to Minnesota at New Year's, but tragedy hit.  A close family friend was diagnosed with stage four cancer.  He fought bravely, and I prayed that he would be able to at least have a peaceful Christmas at home.  God took him to his eternal Home for Christmas, and we mourned our loss.

The holidays carried on, as did the wake and the funeral.  Family I hadn't seen in years came in town to visit and that bittersweet week was one of the longest of my life.

Then came the epic road trip to Minnesota, the one we'd been gearing up for for quite some time.  It was an adventure through snow and ice and negative temperatures and the stomach flu, and the culmination of an unexpectedly action-packed year.  It was a beautiful wedding and a chance to see friends I hadn't seen in years.

And as we drove home through a dark Indiana night after the snow had stopped falling and traffic had lightened, the wind kicked up and in the distance were red blinking lights.  They were the big white windmills, eerily lighting our way, and I thought the same thing I do every time I see them:  wouldn't it be fun if instead of being white they were colorful, like giant pinwheels?!  (If you disagree, you're lying to yourself.)

And it reminded me of something he had said in one of our many conversations during that 15 hour road trip, how some people are the campfires that bring other people together.  "I was not the campfire," he said.  "I was the weird kid with the marshmallow stick."  I was the weird kid who avoided the campfire altogether and hid in the cabinet to stuff my face with marshmallows (or so my mother tells me. . .I was four).

So even though this year was off to a weird and rocky start, I am determined that it will be a good one.  We will paint the windmills to look like pinwheels, eat marshmallows and be happy.

Enough

Everyone keeps asking if I'm ready for Christmas.

I think most people who ask that question are referring to Christmas shopping--have I gotten my shopping done?   Yes, because I didn't really do gifts this year.  It's not that I didn't want to give gifts--I generally enjoy giving them much more than receiving them.  It's that I can't really afford it this year, so I'm making Christmas breakfast for the fam instead.

When I get this question though, I hear--are you ready for this retail nightmare to end?  The answer to that is YES.  I look forward to spending 24 hours with my family and not having to worry that I'll get a call from work.  I am SO ready for that.

The real question though should be--am I ready for Christ?  I wonder if I've done enough this Advent to prepare for the coming of Jesus.  My holy hours were limited, my prayers barely formed, my Advent reading only a third finished, so it would seem that I haven't done nearly enough to prepare.  But when I think about the infant Jesus coming to save me from my sins, coming to love the lonely, to comfort the suffering--I know that my tired eyes and weary bones and exhausted spirit are more than ready to kneel beside the manger and welcome Jesus.

It's because I have nothing left to give--no gifts, no more effort to put into my work, nothing but my weak and weary self.  And the really humbling thing is that that is enough.  That is all He wants.  For me, for you, for the impatient and frantic last-minute customers, for us all to come to Him.  He is the Gift, and He wants to give Himself to us.

It's an awe-inspiring and humbling love.  Come, let us adore Him!

Merry Christmas!

The Girl on Fire

I have a love/hate relationship with The Hunger Games.  I never read the books, but I saw the first film (for my original thoughts on it, check out my post Two Movies).  I was appalled, but intrigued.  I wasn't planning on going to see the sequel, but I knew that it would probably happen.  Yes, this past Saturday the intrigue won out, and I decided to go see the sequel Catching Fire with my sister and brother-in-law.

Most of the movie, I was chewing on my sweatshirt strings whispering "No, no don't do it. . . This is awful." It's a roller coaster of emotions, supported by incredible acting and a spot-on soundtrack, but then it just ended, leaving us in intense anticipation of the next movie.  As we left the theater all I could say was that it was awful.  

But something about it was good.  I couldn't find the words to express my conflicting emotions at the time, but I have found them now.  [Caution, there may be spoilers to follow!]

These stories are unnecessarily violent and brutal, but the violence isn't glorified.  In the beginning of the film, the "winners" of the previous Hunger Games travel to each of the districts and face the families of the youth who died so that the "winners" could live.  We see the pain on the families' faces, on the survivors' faces.  We hear the remorse in their voices.

Rebellion begins to break out--this senseless killing of children has gone on too long and the people have found the hope to fight against it.  The hope comes from the example of winner Katniss Everdeen (I really hate that name).  Her courage in the face of fear, her sacrifice and love amid the cruelty proves that there is still goodness in humanity.

In a dystopian society of a people afraid who are ruled by phonies, she steps up as a woman who is true to herself.  In a world of imbalance sputtering along in lukewarm fear and inaction, Katniss defies tyranny and fear.  She is her self-sacrificing self, not the fearsome monster the Capitol wants her to be.  She stays true to herself and her family, and her example of simple defiance against the tyranny sparks a movement among the people to make a change and break free from the chains that bind them.  As St. Catherine of Siena said, "If you are what you should be, you will set the world ablaze."  That is exactly what Katniss, the "Girl on Fire," does.

The film was very well done.  The acting was in many cases phenomenal (I'm thinking Jennifer Lawrence, Jena Malone, Josh Hutcherson, Elizabeth Banks, Donald Sutherland, and Stanley Tucci to name a few of my favorites).  The character development that was lacking in the first film came to be in the second.  The love triangle between Katniss, Peeta (an equally awful name that reminds me of chips--or People Eating Tasty Animals--that belongs to the man who saved her life), and Gale (her childhood hunting partner) becomes deeper and more tangled.  

We see the characters all beginning to realize that their time could be up at any minute, and we see them come to the decision to use their time to fight for what is right, even though it will probably cost them their lives.

So yes, I got sucked into the story and the characters and I love them.  But there's still the violence and the unbelievable setting and I hate them.

Still, at the center is the story of a girl who struggles to be counter-cultural, to break the mold of what high society and politicians believe she should be.  As a young Catholic woman in 21st century America, I can relate to that.  I don't want Katniss's name, but I would take her spirit and courage any day.