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!

Fiat

As this short season of Advent swirls around us in a flurry of busyness, the word fiat has been on my heart.   It is after all, thanks to Mary's fiat, her "yes" to God's will, that the whole Incarnation came about as it did.  She said yes to something that could cause scandal, yes to bringing up the Son of God, yes to carrying Him in her body for nine months, yes to giving birth to Him.

She probably didn't know when she said "yes" that she'd have to give birth to Him after more than a week of bumbling along on a donkey while nine months pregnant, or that she'd have to give birth to Him in a cold, dark, dirty stable, or that after His birth they'd have to hide out in the desert for two years.  She probably didn't know when she said "yes" that she would have to watch him suffer and die at the hands of the people He loved so dearly.  But she said "yes" to God, and though it caused her times of pain and suffering, she allowed God to use her to help bring about the salvation of the world, through the miracle of a tiny baby.

In a way, this is how God uses all of our fiats.  Every time we place our trust in God, we say "yes" to His will for the salvation of the world.  Most of the time we don't have any idea how His plans will unfold, but we know that it likely won't be easy.  There will be sacrifice, pain, and suffering along the way, but it is through this sanctifying grace that we are transformed to become whatever God wants us to be.  It is through our fiats that He brings about the most glorious things!

This year, my greatest desire is for us all to appreciate more fully the love that God has for us.  He came to earth to be one of us, to share in our human experience, to be treated horribly and executed so that our sins will not be held against us.

The miracle of the Incarnation becomes more real for me every year, and when I close my eyes, I find myself on my knees.  I kneel beside the manger, holding Mary's hand as she rests and recovers from the difficult journey and the birth.  While she sleeps, I watch over her baby, my brother, my King.  I want to touch the soft cheek of the baby Jesus, because I know that with only a touch, I can be healed of my petty, whiny, selfishness.

O heal me, Jesus, and help me to embrace fully the plans You have for my life.  Help me to focus on the love and blessings I do have and not be so worried and anxious about what I don't have.  And thank You for coming to save us.

May the joy and peace of the infant Jesus fill our hearts this Christmas season!

(To see the sweetest interpretation of how God's ways are beyond our wildest imaginings, 

watch the video below.)

Merry Christmas!

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  

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.

All Is Grace

Happy feast of Our Lady of the Rosary!

Four years ago yesterday, I finished the 54-day rosary novena that I prayed for my future husband.  It was almost exactly a month later, and not a moment too soon, that the man who is now my husband asked me out.  

I trusted in the Lord with my heart, with my life.  It wasn't easy.  The Lord's ways are often very different than our own.  The road to follow Him is paved with blood, sweat, and tears, disappointments and failures and pain.  The journey requires trust and perseverance, but at the end of the day (and sometimes that day feels like a lifetime!), the Son always rises in glory.

Recently, the timing and circumstances were just right so that I was finally able to root out a source of significant stress and anxiety in my life.  I believe that once again, the Lord was guiding me, patiently, faithfully, along the painful path toward freedom.  I know that everything that happened leading up to that life-change was as necessary as the life-change itself.  This change is a grace that I am extraordinarily thankful for.  I don't have enough words to express my gratitude, but I feel kind of like this:

#peace

Life is a roller coaster of highs and lows, but I believe that these highs provide grace to help us persevere through the lows.  It's much easier to praise Him when all is dripping with sunshine than when all is covered in overcast gray.  I love You, Lord.  I thank You for ALL THINGS.  I believe that ALL IS GRACE.

Labor of Love

"Work without love is slavery," said Blessed Mother Teresa.

That's a deep thought, one I've personally pondered for quite some time.  I aspire to work only with love, to break the chains that bind me, but it's so easy to get caught up in the motions, the annoyances, the things I can't control, the drama and nonsense of business politics.  Quite often, I am enslaved.

It's pathetic, really.

So I was really happy when I found this prayer in my Magnificat the other day, and I kind of wish I had had it years ago.  It's completely perfect, and I figured that it would be good to share on Labor Day for all you who labor.  Let's all ask God for the grace to labor with love.

Litany to Sanctify Work

     R. Lord, protect me.
From the temptation to be listless and lazy: R.
From the temptation to complain: R.
From the temptation to be critical to my boss: R.
From the temptation to cheat or to be dishonest with others: R.
From the temptation to gossip: R.
From the temptation to lateness: R.
From the temptation to waste time: R.
From the temptation to be judgmental of my co-workers: R.
From the temptation to procrastinate: R.
From the temptation to be jealous or envious of others: R.
From the temptation to indolence and lethargy: R.
From the temptation to be hyper-critical: R.
From the temptation to engage in idle-conversation: R.
From the temptation to be quick to take offense: R.
From the temptation to shift my work onto others: R.
From the temptation to impatience: R.
From the temptation to cut corners or to be sloppy: R.
From the temptation to give in to weariness: R.

     R. Lord, please grant it.
For the grace to be a peacemaker: R.
For the grace to witness to you by word and example: R.
For the grace to be energetic and committed: R.
For the grace to take initiative: R.
For the grace to be compassionate and forgiving: R.
For the grace to offer up all tedium and drudgery: R.
For the grace to be attentive to those in need: R.
For the grace to be generous in sharing: R.
For the grace to be prudent in dealing with others: R.
For the grace to be kind: R.
For the grace to be understanding: R.
For the grace to fulfill my responsibilities well: R.
For the grace to be patient and persevering: R.
For the grace to put myself in others' shoes: R.
For the grace to be dedicated and undistracted: R.
For the grace to be honest and forthright: R.
For the grace to be hardworking: R.
For the grace to be free of stress: R.
For the grace of insight to solve problems: R.
For the grace of industriousness: R.
For the grace to resolve conflicts and difficulties: R.
For the grace to put up with hardships: R.
For the grace to esteem the dignity of my co-workers: R.
For the grace to be thankful for the chance to work: R.
For the grace to spread the Good News of the Gospel: R.

"Come to Me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28)

Spiritual Bouquets

A few years ago, I first discovered the website Pray More Novenas.  It was mid-September, and I saw something on Facebook advertising a group of people gathering together spiritually to pray the novena to St. Therese.  The link said that it would e-mail the prayers to those participating so no one would forget to pray.  Convenient, I thought, so I clicked and signed up.

"I will send down a shower of roses from the heavens," St. Therese promised.

I always wanted to believe that she meant that literally.  Every year I pray the famous novena to St. Therese (my patron saint and homegirl) and hope to have a bouquet of roses appear in my room, rather than the usual pack of stinkbugs.  I very rarely actually receive any physical roses in answer to my prayers, but I do receive spiritual bouquets of roses--consolations, graces, assurances that my prayers have been heard and are being answered.

I love especially praying the same novena prayers to the same saint as so many other people.  Pray More Novenas has grown quite a bit in the last few years, and they pray at least one novena a month with over 100,000 people participating.  That's kind of crazy awesome.  I have since met the couple behind the ministry, and they are also awesome.  It's truly comforting to be part of such a huge prayer group.  And it's easy to remember to pray when the prayers are sent to my e-mail (which I, like I'm sure many of you, can receive on my phone).

Coming up on October 19th, we are beginning a novena to St. Jude, the patron of hopeless causes and desperate situations. As soon as I heard that this was the next novena, I knew exactly which hopeless cause I would be praying for (don't we all have a "hopeless" cause close to our hearts!) and I was so excited, feeling that the novena itself was an answer to my prayer.

Then I remembered that October 19th is the day that St. Therese's parents, Blessed Louis and Zelie Martin, were beatified 6 years ago, in the year of their 150th wedding anniversary.  This fact has a ridiculous amount of significance for me and my personal intention, so I know that we're already off to a good start!  (If you want to join in this awesome novena, click here!)

Since we're talking about prayer and novenas, and since October is the month of the rosary, I feel the need to share the mother of all novenas that I discovered a few years ago:  it's the 54 day rosary novena.  With 27 days of petition and 27 days of thanksgiving, and each day including a recitation of the rosary along with several special prayers, it is difficult to get through.  I confess that in the handful of times that I have prayed it, I didn't always pray it diligently/prayerfully/perfectly, but the intention was there and I know God heard me.

How do I know God heard me?

I finished praying a 54 day rosary novena for my future husband (which I began on a random day when I felt inspired to) and finished it (conveniently) the day before the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary (October 7).  A month later, the man who is now my fiance asked me out on our first date.

The novena takes dedication, but it totally works.  Again, not always in the kind of way where water is turned to wine right before my very eyes, but in such a way that I know God is answering my prayers.  And, every time I have prayed it, I have found myself growing closer to Our Lady, more understanding of myself and my weaknesses, and watching with awe how God works everything out in His own way.

I found the novena here and hand-copied the prayers into a journal my mom gave me (made out of an old copy of my childhood favorite, St. Therese and the Roses by Helen Walker Homan).  But if you aren't as much of a nerd as I am, or if you don't have that kind of time (I did this shortly after I graduated college, when I didn't have a life), you can buy a book with the updated prayers here, at the St. Jude Shop. (Did you catch that reference?  The shop where you can buy the rosary novena booklet is named after the other novena we're talking about here.  If you weren't sure about joining the novena, this is your sign, so sign up here.)

So you get the idea--I like novenas.  And I like sharing novenas, and praying novenas with other people.  But something to keep in mind:  prayer can't be forced.  It shouldn't be a dull recitation of prayers written thousands of years ago.  As St. Therese herself put it:

"For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned towards heaven; it is a cry of recognition and love, embracing both trial and joy."

It's just that simple.

So however you choose to pray, I pray that you are showered with spiritual graces and roses from the heavens!  And if you read this, I would really appreciate it if you'd say a prayer (in whatever form you prefer) for a special intention of mine!  THANKS!

The Knot

It's the twisted darkness that swirls around inside, the walls we've built to keep others out, the voices that tell us we aren't good enough, pretty enough, strong enough, the selfishness that keeps us from noticing our suffering neighbor, the grudges we hold, our unwillingness to forgive and try to understand, our certainty that our way is the right way.

This darkness twists around inside us until it is a great big knot of evil that causes pain and suffering for us and those around us.

Sometimes the more we try to undo our own knots, the tighter they become.  The fact is, we can't do it on our own.  We need grace.

The good news is that there is always help available to those who seek it.  And in fact, there happens to be a special devotion to Mary, Undoer of Knots.  If you or someone you know is struggling with a particular knot or a particular mess of darkness in their life, Mary, Undoer of Knots is the one you want to talk to. 

Conveniently, a novena to her begins tomorrow!  You can subscribe to the prayers and join thousands of others at Pray More Novenas.  Or, if you aren't a novena type of person but you could use some grace, simply pray "Mary, Undoer of Knots, pray for me."  And she will.  You can count on that.  You can always count on Our Lady.

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 a gem of a devotion for the month of Mary: The 31 Days 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 have been posting these blurbs daily via Twitter and Facebook, but I've had several people ask where they can find the whole devotion.  I've searched online and can't find where it came from, so, hoping that I'm not infringing on anyone's rights, I typed it up, made a few adjustments, and posted it here (in the right column under "Pages").

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

Endurance

I have a bad habit of thinking that I can save the world.  It's not so much that I think I have what it takes as it is that I have these desires to do more with my life than make coffee, to go out and actually help people, to see the suffering in the world come to an end.

This idea first manifested in college when I thought I could save a person close to me. That my love was big enough to change a heart turned out to be a silly dream. As I wondered at the mess I'd made, I asked God why this had to be.  After three nights of crying myself to sleep, He told me, there in the deepest part of my heart that hurt so much: "You didn't trust me."


He didn't just leave me with that somewhat cryptic message.  He guided me along the way of healing through discovering a devotion to the Divine Mercy of Jesus.  It was a journey I'd already been on unknowingly, but the pieces began to fit together and I began to see more clearly every day that I can't save anyone--not even myself--because God has already saved the world.  By His Passion on the Cross, His death and His resurrection, Christ has already set us free.

I began to reflect on the Passion, and to unite my sufferings to Christ's on the cross.  Finally, after many months of prayer and novenas (the 54 day rosary novena is a personal favorite) I reached a point in my personal life of being able to say to my friend:

I have trusted in the Eternal God for your welfare, and joy has come to me from the Holy One because of the mercy that will swiftly reach you from your eternal savior. With mourning and lament I sent you forth, but God will give you back to me with enduring gladness and joy. (Baruch 4:22-23)

My heart was finally at a point of peace knowing that when I see my friend in heaven (and I will see him in heaven), our earthly drama and suffering will be perfected in "enduring gladness and joy."

Still, I had a nagging thought that I was supposed to do more. I graduated college during a recession with a degree in English and no career goals, so while I went back to work at my high school job at the family business, I began reading about the problems of the world.

I was inspired to go to third world countries and kick down doors of brothels and save the innocent women forced to work in them.  I wanted to track down not the pimps but the men who paid for such services and so created a market for the business of selling people and objectified women everywhere. I wanted to teach children whose only chance at freedom from poverty was education.  I wanted to provide a safe haven for women who are victims of abuse, or who want to choose life but can't do it on their own.  I wanted to be Dorothy Day and Mother Teresa.

But I am most definitely not either of these women.  And from the looks of things, going off to foreign countries to fight perverts and love the poor and abused is not what God has planned for me.

Like Saint Therese, I wanted to choose all vocations, so I chose love, which encompasses all other vocations.  I began to realize that, like Therese, as much as I desired to be a missionary, I was destined to stay close to home.  I found myself making coffee (lots of coffee) and I realized that God was teaching me (slowly and patiently because the selfish brat in me won't go down without a fight) how to love.

I'm finding that all God wants of us is for us to be who He created us to be.  If we let Him love us as we are, if we stop trying so hard to be what we're not, or at least what we're not yet, He will be able to accomplish His mission through us.

As for suffering, it has been my experience that it brings us closer to the heart of Jesus.  I believe that in our sinful world, we cannot be free of it, but we can embrace it as an opportunity to take part in the redemptive work of God.  In the suffering of our neighbor, we can learn to be compassionate and understanding.  SO much easier said than done, but St. Edith Stein says it so well:

The world is in flames. The conflagration can also reach our house. But high above all flames towers the cross. They cannot consume it. It is the path from earth to heaven. It will lift one who embraces it in faith, love, and hope into the bosom of the Trinity.

The world is in flames. Are you impelled to put them out? Look at the cross. From the open heart gushes the blood of the Saviour. This extinguishes the flames of hell. Make your heart free by the faithful fulfilment of your vows; then the flood of divine love will be poured into your heart until it overflows and becomes fruitful to all the ends of the earth. Do you hear the groans of the wounded on the battlefields in the west and the east? You are not a physician and not a nurse and cannot bind up the wounds. You are enclosed in a cell and cannot get to them. Do you hear the anguish of the dying? You would like to be a priest and comfort them. Does the lament of the widows and orphans distress you? You would like to be an angel of mercy and help them. Look at the Crucified. If you are nuptially bound to him by the faithful observance of your holy vows, your being is precious blood. Bound to him, you are omnipresent as he is. You cannot help here or there like the physician, the nurse, the priest. You can be at all fronts, wherever there is grief, in the power of the cross. Your compassionate love takes you everywhere, this love from the divine heart. Its precious blood is poured everywhere soothing, healing, saving.

The eyes of the Crucified look down on you asking, probing. Will you make your covenant with the Crucified anew in all seriousness? What will you answer him? “Lord, where shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

The path from earth to heaven. . . the path from suffering to glory. . .the path from self to love. . .the way is by the cross, but we must have faith, we must believe, we must hope.

I aspire.

A Mirthday Celebration

Our family has had a tradition of praying the rosary together on Sunday evenings for as long as I can remember.  When we were younger/ unruly teenagers, it usually took quite some time to drag everyone away from our television shows or homework or whatever it was we did on Sunday nights that was so much more important than family time.  Once gathered and calmed down, we knelt in a circle, brought to our knees by Dad's insistence (until we were deemed old enough to not have to kneel but usually did anyway out of guilt) and recited our prayers.

Somehow, something or other would end up making us laugh, sometimes to the point of tears.  Sometimes just one or two of us (almost always me--my brother just had to look at me for me to lose it), sometimes all of us.  Dad was usually the rock and kept praying even if the rest of us were doubled over and unable to breathe.  (As long as Mom laughed with us, we didn't get in trouble.)

Last night, in honor of Our Lady's birthday, my parents and I gathered to pray to our Mother.  We lit a candle in front of the Our Lady of Guadalupe icon in our living room, sang "happy birthday," and began praying.  Mom was racing through the prayers so fast it was funny.  Dad and I asked her to slow down, but instead, she just started laughing.  Then I started laughing.

For the next three out of five decades, Mom and I were too overcome with laughter and tears to pray out loud.  Dad kept chugging along, chuckling every once in awhile at our squeaking.  I tried to join in again for the fourth decade, but somewhere in the middle I lost it again.

You may think we are completely irreverent, or just prone to ridiculously uncontrollable laughter.  You may be right.  But really, this spirit of joy springs from the love that binds us together--the love of God.  Our faith brings us together--sometimes begrudgingly, sometimes sorrowfully, sometimes hilariously.  And for all the grief we give each other, we are connected by blood and in this family for life.  Thank God.