living like lucy pevensie

JMJ

AMDG

So quick life update: I lived in a van for nine months, traveling America with eleven other people, people I call brothers and sisters who started out as strangers but became some of my closest friends. We led retreats for thousands high school and middle school students, drove thousands of miles, and have thousands (only a slight exaggeration) of inside jokes. I learned a lot of things, too. Life skills things, like how to talk to literally anyone. Practical fun things, like how to throw a ball (thanks, brothers). Deep-messy-hard things, like how to love people even when they're fourteen and Do Not Want To Talk to you about anything, but especially Jesus. I learned so many things and there are so many things I’m still learning. 

It was great. It was beautiful. It was so much more than I can really say. I’m doing it again next year. Pray for me!

Anyhow, The Post:

***

When I was around seven years old, I fell in love with Narnia. I wanted to be a Pevensie; I wanted to find a magical world in my closet. My siblings like to remind me of how I exerted my powers as Oldest Child and made them search with me in the closets and cabinets and behind the bookcases, just in case. I never found anything, which is probably because our home is empty of wardrobes.

It’s been awhile since I was seven. I’m nineteen now, and I have no real idea what I’m doing with my life once I stop being a full-time missionary, but still, really, I want to be Lucy Pevensie when I grow up.

I want to find magic in wardrobes and a Lion who isn’t safe, but good. I want to fight for truth and goodness, whether that be in gentle ways or by rushing into battle. I want to be Lucy Pevensie and be a queen and a warrior and sail to the edge of the world and be Valiant.

Here’s a thing about me: I really freaking love life. I have my messy angry EVERYTHING IS AN AWFUL MESS moments. I know this. I’ve lived with myself for nineteen years. But as a whole? I love life like a little kid does. Part of me is still that seven year old girl. I still like dresses with skirts that twirl and I like flowers and climbing trees and eating cookie dough and drawing dragons and medieval weaponry.(yes I had a thing for medieval weapons at seven.) I want to go on adventures and be a heroine and really, I just want to be Lucy Pevensie when I grow up.

despite being nineteen, people mistake me for being twelve.
i think it's partly just my face and also probably because photos 
like this are an accurate depiction of me. photo cred: Jacob

I learned a lot about being childlike this year. I learned that maybe, instead of having an actual job (those are good though), what's most important is being the princess warrior maiden I wanted to be when I was seven.

I learned a lot this year about living like God is real. Not just—this is Jesus and I talk to Him because I am a Good Person, not even this is Jesus and I talk to Him because I love Him, but this is Jesus and no matter how I'm feeling, He loves me and Quite Literally He’s All That’s Getting Me Through The Day. Honestly, the only thing powering me through it some days—a lot of days—most days—was sheer grace.

My brothers and sisters and I saw miracles all year—like young people at the end of a retreat admitting that a retreat was the actual last place they wanted to be that day, but how it had been fun and good and they’d grown closer to their friends and to God. Like how we hit a snowstorm and slid off the road and couldn’t travel anymore that day, but we were amazingly only twenty minutes from a former roommate’s family and they put us up for the night. Like how a boy on retreat fell and cut his hand during a game we were playing, but was healed when my brother prayed over him. Like how we didn’t have the some of the copies we needed to pass out on retreat, but then they showed up in the stack of papers with the others even though no one had given that paper to the woman making copies for us. We made it through rainstorms and snowstorms and a (small) hurricane and sleep deprivation and homesickness and awkward conversations.

God is not an idea. God is not someone who died for us and then left us to figure it out from there. God is real, He is present, and He is at work, and I have seen it.

That’s all well and good when you're a Jesus hobo who lives out of a backpack and a suitcase, when you're traveling the country with your eleven best friends who feel the same as you, when your "job" is literally to talk to people about God--but NET doesn't last forever. Even here and now, as I prepare to head back to NET to serve a second year, the fact remains that for right now, I am back for the summer with all the normality of my hometown, and life is ordinary and calm. Of course, there is summer job-finding and adjusting to normal life and all the ordinary every day struggles—it’s not easy— but it’s a definite change from the wildness of NET life.

Coming off NET can feel a little like coming off a nine month long retreat high. Some days, NET feels like a dream. Some days, I remember road life and it feels like I must have imagined it. Towards the end of the year, one of my brothers exhorted us: This year is real. What God did for us this year is real.

Still, I start to wonder--yes, God is real--but is He real like I thought He was? It starts to feel like yes, that was real, but now it’s time to settle down and be Practical and go back to solving everything by myself.*

* This is how my brain works sometimes—but really, it’s so much more practical to let the God of the Universe Who’s omniscient solve things.

Maybe you’ve felt this too. Maybe for you God is real in church but not where you work, not when you’re hanging out with friends.  Maybe you know God was real when you were on NET, or at that retreat you went on, or in the youth ministry you were part of in highschool, or the church you used to belong to, or in the time right after your conversion, or whatever it may be. And you had those moments, those days, months, years, when you knew God is radically Real.

And now you start to wonder if He is. Or you tuck those memories of moments aside—a sort of that-was-then-but-this-is-now sort of thing, and now you’re going to be grown-up and “practical.” 

Hebrews 13:8, though: Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And whatever you learned about Him Then is still true Now. Whatever ways He worked in your life, whatever miracles happened—those aren’t limited to that past time. Something I’m working on, something I’d challenge you, Blog-Reader Friend Person, to grow in, is to stop putting God in boxes. I mean, it’s mathematically quite silly of us. You can’t limit people Who are infinite.

I want to stop putting God in boxes and locking Him up in wardrobes, and start finding Him in the ordinary. I think perhaps NET is my Narnia—and like Lucy to Narnia, I’ll be returning there, but He is here, too.

“It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"

"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.

"Are -are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.

"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.” 

― C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

blurry me and a blurry brother and someone's blurry hand having

a dance party with small children in disney springs. because--yes. 

photo cred: Jacob

I must learn to know Him in other ways--Ordinary Life and NET Life are different, but God is present and overwhelmingly Real in both. He is Real, He is Present---and He is not Safe, but He is Good.

So, I’m here for now, and who knows where later, but wherever I am, I choose to keep hanging on to the joy and wonder that I had at seven years old. In the end, the difference between Lucy and Susan is that Lucy grew and Susan grew up. There is a difference between childlike faith and immaturity. I want to keep looking for the magic in this world, which isn't hidden in closets but out in the great wide open, if you're brave enough to find it and name it as such. I choose to live like Lucy Pevensie, who danced with the trees and loved her family and friends, and who believed in and saw Aslan even when no one else did.

Jesus, give me the grace to see a Lion where everyone else sees trees, and the grace to say so when everyone else still sees trees. 

***

Note #1). YEAH SO I'M DOING NET AGAIN. Which is incredibly awesome. Also as a part of doing NET, I need to raise $6,000. This is about a quarter of the cost of our training, transportation, and a small monthly stipend. Please consider joining me in this mission by donating! Most people in the world don't serve on NET, but we're all called to be a part of the Church's mission of evangelization, and donating to a NET missionary is an awesome way to do that. Go to www.netusa.org/donate, click on "Support A Missionary," and fill in "Kate Cherry" in the I'd Like To Join The Mission Of box. Thank you! 

Note #2) post related song recommendation.

louisiana & uniformity with God's will

JMJ
AMDG
Sometimes, as a traveling missionary, you have days off in Louisiana and it's 76° and there's daily Mass and Starbucks and you get to wear sandals and everything is a lot of fun.
Sometimes, as a traveling missionary, your van hits black ice and you slide off the road and unexpectedly spend the night in Wisconsin and you wake up  before six every morning and life is really kind of not fun and mildly terrifying.
Both come from Jesus.
Days off in Louisiana are great, and sometimes that's how God loves me, and it's easy to see and feel His love, because 76° degrees in January is basically like getting a hug from Jesus.
Still, though, the Upper Peninsula in January and sleep deprivation and all the hard stuff comes from Him, too, and while those experiences are not something I'd tend to get excited about, there are beautiful moments within them- when we slid off the road and were waiting for the tow truck, my team and I prayed a novena of Memorares and listened to Don't Worry, Be Happy.
Sometimes, though, it's just hard. It's Michigan and it's below zero and you don't really feel like getting out of bed and you can't see the beauty and JESUS WHYYYYYYY.
And it's in those moments that He's loving me, too, and it's in those moments when I just don't wanna that I lean on Him the most, and learn to trust Him and learn to let Him love me.  
So--I encourage you: learn to see Him loving you in the hard moments, when  it doesn't feel good or fun or warm and learn to love Him, to choose Him in everything, to delight in His will being done in all things.
Also--read Uniformity With God's Will by St. Alphonsus Ligouri because it will kick your butt but in the good I-am-growing-from-this sort of way.
Peace out and God bless.
ps--Louisiana is really awesome, but I'm  a little afraid to try the crawfish. pray for me.

sex and pancakes

JMJ
AMDG

I hate the whole phrasing of "waiting" till marriage.

Basically, it comes down to this: I am not married. I am still of value. I am still able to live a complete life.

Sex is natural. It's a gift from God. Sex is necessary for the propagation of the human species. Sex is necessary for bringing spouses together and is an important part of the whole "being married thing". It can be misused. So can cheesecake, which is also a gift from God(obviously). The awesomeness of cheesecake is not a good reason to use in an improper fashion, such as using it as a Frisbee or eating so much of it you vomit. The same goes for sex: there are proper places for it and improper places for it.

But sex, like cheesecake, is not necessary for happiness. Sex is not necessary for joy. Sex is not necessary to living a human life full of messiness and Christmases and all the dumb things about growing up. Sex is not necessary to have friends and and frozen yogurt and fireworks. Sex will not be a part of everyone's life.

I hate the word waiting because waiting implies that sex will happen some day when in fact I have no guarantee that it will. I hate the word waiting because, to me at least, waiting implies that I am just biding my time being single until the Perfect Catholic Boy descends on a cloud from heaven so that I can finally start living life.

I hate the word waiting because to me, at least, waiting implies that I am doing nothing of worth now.

I actually haven't made pancakes in like a whole month, so
these are not my pancakes. Sorry.

*

Earlier in the summer, I went through a mad pancake making phase.

When you make pancakes you have to mix together the dry ingredients. You have to mix the wet ingredients. You have to mix the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients. You have to ladle out the pancake batter onto the pan or griddle (which you've sprayed) and then cook the pancakes. After that you get to eat them.

While I am making pancakes, my sister is popping into the kitchen to see how far along I am and can she have the pink plate? how much longer? and a million other questions.

My sister is waiting to eat pancakes.

I am not. Am I eating pancakes as I cook them? No. But I am invested in another task. I am making pancakes, and that is what I am focused on.

I think that maybe making pancakes is like being single. At any rate, I've been doing a lot of both lately.

*

A guy at the Y where I used to work approached me one day. So, I was wondering, do you have a boyfriend?

He was kinda cute, with a shy smile and eyes that desperately wanted me to say No, I'm single and here's my number. 

except...

No, I'm single, I said. But I'm good with that for right now.

Being single and making pancakes are a lot alike. I'm getting pretty good at both.

*

I don't rush through pancake making. I do it correctly, making sure all my measurements are accurate, and it would be stupid to skip adding the flour because I just wanted some finished pancakes as fast as possible.

I'm single right now. There is no way around this. I've discerned that NET Ministries is the right place for me right now, and so I am not married or a consecrated religious, and not actively pursuing either right now.
Right now, making pancakes is where I'm at, and I'm having fun with it, making tiny ones, smiley-face ones, big ones the size of the pan and all the while belting out musical theatre tunes. Popular! You're gonna be popular...

*

Sometimes people make pancakes and never eat them, like my friends and family who are gluten-intolerant. Some people, like my sister, make pancakes but are taking a break from grain for a while and so might never eat pancakes, but there's a possibility.

Sometimes people fall in love a dozen times but never actually find That Person. Sometimes people decide that marriage isn't for them; that religious life is, or that singlehood is.

Maybe some day I'll sit down to a pancake breakfast. Maybe I won't. Both are viable options.

I am not waiting. Right now, I am busy making pancakes and singing and stressing about life and doodling in sharpie on most of the things I own.

To all my single ladies (and men): you can stop waiting. Stop waiting and start living. Someday, marriage may be your path to holiness, but it is not this day. Learn along to love where you are; learn to love the right now.

And right now? I am hella good at making pancakes.

i think i maybe took this analogy too far but anyways i make good pancakes and i'm single so yeah

hey, so like, i leave for NET on Thursday morning, so please pray for me!

salt and light

JMJ
AMDG

When I was ten, I wanted to be an astronaut. I was going to be the first person to land on Jupiter, until I learned that Jupiter is a gaseous planet and can't be landed upon. 

I'm eighteen now. I have absolutely no idea what my future will look like. There are dreams of being a youth minister and being married and or/ possibly maybe also a princess or a professional ice cream/mozzarella stick taster but I don't really know. I really have no idea what I'm doing beyond May 21, 2017, the finish date for 2016-17 NET.

I know I want to do something great. I know I want to live greatness.

*

Doing something great scares the crap out of me. Living greatness can't mean living normally. Living greatness means I can't keep my head down and be nobody. Living greatness means that I can't disappear. Even if I work the most boring job in the world with the most boring people in the world, as a Christian I must be salt and light, and those are not things which can be hidden. Those are things I must not allow myself to hide. 

You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Men do not light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket. They set it on a stand where it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, your light must shine before men so that they may see goodness in your acts and give praise to your heavenly Father. (Matthew 5:14-16)

*

People tell me, I'm so proud of you.

I'm not.
I don't know quite why I'm here, why I've been called, and while I don't want to turn from the path I have started down, I do not feel worthy to walk it.

I am not proud of myself because I can see all the cracks in my beat-up heart and I know where my flaws lie, as I'm sure plenty of other people do too, but in spite of all my brokenness, sometimes I stop and it's like the pause before the drop at the top of the roller coaster and I think--maybe this is greatness. maybe this is exactly what I am meant to be doing right now. 

*

Sometimes--a lot of times, really--I don't want greatness. I want not to have to explain my crazy gap year-mission trip-Jesus adventure every time people ask me where I'm going to college in the fall. I wish I were your average eighteen year old, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, except that's not my personal path to greatness, and deep down, it isn't what I really want.

The world offers you comfort. You were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness.~Benedict XVI.

*

 I discovered a poem the other day, one of those things you keep referring back to and maybe want to get tattooed on the inside of your eyelids because of the beauty of it--Starlings in Winter, by Mary Oliver. The last lines read:

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,

even in the leafless winter,

even in the ashy city.

I am thinking now

of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots

trying to leave the ground,

I feel my heart

pumping hard. I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.

I want to be light and frolicsome. 

I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,

as though I had wings.

I want to dream of greatness and not be afraid of the vastness of it. I want to be loud, to be bright and flaming and do things that maybe people won't talk about but which will leave something behind in my heart, glimmering afterimages of pain and laughter and friendship and love that are realer than anything else in the world. I want to do things that make my soul sing. 

I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.

I long for greatness. I'm terrified of it. God makes me feel like I've got wings. I need to remember to stop looking down.

*

The past few months, I've been struggling to come to terms with myself and the mission I am undertaking, not just NET, but Christian life. Youth ministry. Daring to share things in small groups and to lector at Mass. To see and be seen, to lead and be led. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.

I was prayed over the other night, by a group of people I'd never met before. 
What would you like to pray for? one of them asked.

I want to pray for the courage to be the person God wants me to be and not the person I've been telling myself I am.

I'm still praying for that every day. I keep reminding myself not to despise myself, to accept my weaknesses, fix what I can, and move on.

I keep staring at the words I have taped next to my bed: Consult not your fears but your hopes and dreams. Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential. Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do. ~St. Pope John XXIII

I keep remembering salt and light, salt and light, you are strong enough for whatever comes.

I keep praying, and thinking, and sometimes crying. I think that's all I can do for right now--hold on and try not to be afraid. I keep trying to be salt and light, and maybe--I dare to hope--it's working.

*

syrup is great.

This is a lot of rambling. I think maybe it's just what I needed to write though, or maybe it's what someone needs to read. 

Reading back through this I think maybe I sound negative, and I'm not, I just have All The Feelings About Everything and I'm trying to process them while doing things like buy plane tickets(whaaat?) and think about packing and alklaksfkjas;ldfkjalksfj.

Yes, I'm a mess. Mostly a happy mess, but pray for me.

Also I have no real relevant pictures for this post. Here, have a picture I took of the syrup shelf at Wal-mart. It's a long story why. 

concerning hobbits

JMJ
AMDG

He shows up at your door one day, and he knows you, though you don't recognize him at first. You remember him from your childhood--remember all the glittering light that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

But he is different now--or maybe it is you who is different. Nowadays, you aren't so sure that you like the sound of "adventure" in your ears.
He makes you flustered, and that makes you guilty, because once upon a time, you would have liked the sound of an adventure, but there are letters to read and you don't want to be late to dinner, so sorry, but you don't want any adventures, thank you.

But you, flustered, let him come to tea; you write it down in your engagement book: Adoration, Wednesday @ 6 sorry, Gandalf Tea Wednesday.

And then things start to happen; people start popping up into your life, and you find your patience being stretched very thin and what is happening? they're singing, and something in it moves you, but it's all rather silly and you go to bed---

---but the next morning, you're running down the lane and to the end of your days you will not remember how you found yourself outside, without a hat, a walking stick or any money, or anything you usually take when you go out. You're leaving your keys with someone else and running as fast as you can, pocket-handkerchiefs be damned.

Don't be precise, and don't worry, someone tells you.

(source)

This journey you go on is not an easy one. There are trolls and goblins and spiders and a dragon. There are people who glare at you and people who will hurt your friends. There will be riddles and fear and strange things. There will be death and blood and pain before it is over.

Someone will tell you that you do not belong, and you will feel that deep in your bones--you do not belong; you are too small, too weak; too inexperienced--but you are chosen and you are too far to turn back now.

Besides, there will be milk and honey in great houses; there will be elves singing in the trees and there will be the greatness of the mountains. There will be friendships and sacrifices; there will be the wonderment of the wind in your hair. There will be good days and bad ones, and you will not be the same when it is over.

At the end, when it is over, you will have lost the respect of the most respectable of your neighbors.

You will find you don't mind so much.

You remain very happy to the end of your days, which are extraordinarily long.

*

Tolkien did not intend for his writing to be allegorical, but I think it fits so well with vocation, with the universal call to holiness, with my own personal decision to serve with NET.

Life with Christ is a wonderful adventure.--St. John Paul II

Here's to forgetting pocket handkerchiefs.

deserts & manure

JMJ
AMDG
There are two passages I've come across lately in my Bible reading that have really stuck out.

So I will allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart. (Hosea 2:16)

A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he came out looking for fruit on it but did not find any. He said to the vinedresser, "Look here! For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree and found none. Cut it down. Why should it clutter up the ground?" In answer, the man said, "Sir, leave it another year, while I hoe around it and manure it; then perhaps it will bear fruit. If not, it shall be cut down." (Luke 13:6-9)

I think what this means is that it is sometimes necessary for life to suck.
I think what this means is that sometimes actual crap is what is necessary for our conversion and for us to turn to God.

It is an uncomfortable truth, to be sure, and rather a strange one.
He says, So I will allure her, and we think of pleasant times, of romance and sunsets and hours in Adoration where everything *feels good*--but then He continues, I will lead her into the desert and we aren't so sure anymore and WHAT IS THIS I WANT OFF.
But then He speaks to my heart. And to your heart. And that makes it worth it.

Because the desert is not the end game. The desert is not the point of life. The desert is a part of growing up. The desert is the spiritual equivalent of your awkward fashion phase in middle school. It will pass. It may take a while. It will pass.

The point of the desert is not to make you miserable. The point of the desert is to quiet your mind so that you can hear His voice again.

When He says I will hoe around it and manure it we get nervous. We want to hold onto the weeds in our lives, the little sins that are slowly choking us to death. We want thin soil, because it is safe; because it doesn't smell or feel uncomfortable.

But He knows best, and so sometimes it is necessary for stuff to stink. Sometimes we need hardship to develop the skills that lie inside us.

But remember: the point of the manure is not for it to be awful and painful and lead you to self-loathing. The point of manure is to help you grow. The point of the manure is for you to bear fruit.

And let's also remember that a good gardener does not wildly fling animal dung at his garden like WHOA YEAH LET'S MAKE A MESS IN HERE I BET I CAN COMPLETELY COVER THESE PLANTS WITH THIS MANURE. A good gardener analyzes the situation and gives a plant what it needs to grow. Sometimes that's manure. Sometimes it's more sun or more shade or maybe it needs to be watered.

And besides, this will not last forever. The last lines of Hosea chapter 2 are as follows:

From there I will give her the vineyard she had,

 and the valley of Achor as a door of hope. 

She shall respond there as in the days of her youth, 

when she came up from the land of Egypt. 

On that day, says the Lord, 

she shall call me "My husband" 

and never again, "My baal"*

Then I shall remove from her mouth all the names of the Baals, 

so that they shall no longer be invoked.

I will make a covenant for them on that day, 

with the beasts of the field, 

with the birds of the air, 

and with the things that crawl on the ground. 

Bow and sword and war 

I will destroy from the land, and 

I will let them take their rest in security. 

I will espouse you to me forever; 

I will espouse you in right and in justice, 

in love and in mercy; 

I will espouse you in fidelity, and you shall know the Lord. 

On that day I will respond, says the Lord;

 I will respond to the heavens,and they shall respond to the earth; 

The earth shall respond to the grain, and wine, and oil, 

and these shall respond to Jezreel. 

I will sow him for myself in the land, 

and will have pity on Lo-ruhama. 

I will say to Lo-ammi, "You are my people," 

and he shall say, "My God." 

(Hosea 2:17-25)

God bless. I'm praying for you.

*baal: lord/master

when we talk about Mary

JMJ
AMDG

There's a lot of talk bouncing around the world and in particular, the Internet, about how "Catholics hate women!" to which Catholics fling back "no we don't! look at these fifty million paintings of Mary in which she acts like an impossible woman who never broke a fingernail, much less a sweat!"

I'm paraphrasing, of course, but can we stop that?

Blessed Chiara Luce Badano

Instead, when we talk about Catholic women, can we talk about Chiara Luce Badano? who was born in 1971 and who liked dancing and swimming and pop music but who lived completely for Jesus and who died of osteoporosis at nineteen, after refusing morphine because she wanted to be lucid and offer her suffering to God?

Can we talk about Pulcheria, who was an empress? And scholar? Who was so brilliant that the church fathers asked her advice in fighting against the Nestorian heresy?

Can we talk about Mary Magdalene, who is my homegirl cause she was rather a trainwreck of a saint, and it's right in the Gospels that she was crying too much to notice Jesus and tbh that's me and I need women who were messy and real but still holy; still beloved.

Can we talk about Catherine(of Siena) who told the pope to go back and live in Rome and lead the church? who did this in a time when women weren't supposed to have opinions?

Can we talk about Catherine(of Alexandria) who not only was put on trial for her faith, but she converted all the philosophers/judges who were supposed to be convicting her? Who died because she loved Jesus? Oh, and she was eighteen when all this went down.

When we talk about Catholic women, can we stop pinning Therese(of Lisieux) into a nice, neat little box of being a sweetheart and remember that she's a doctor of the Church? That despite being told to be quiet she up and talked to Pope Leo XIII during an audience and asked if she could enter Carmel?

Can we talk about Joan (of Arc) who led an army? Who refused to be afraid because she knew God was with her? Who called her soldiers out on using foul language and humor and missing Mass?

Can we talk about Hildegard(of Bingen) who was an abbess, theologian, musician, visionary, artist? Who stood for truth in a time of great heresy? Who is a doctor of the Church?

Saint Edith Stein/Teresa Benedicta

Can we talk about Helen(a), who raised Constantine? Who was largely responsible for the acceptance of Christianity? Who decided in her eighties to go on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land to find the true Cross?

When we talk about Catholic women, can we talk about Edith Stein(aka Teresa Benedicta of the Cross) who was raised in a Jewish family, became atheist as a teenager, and eventually converted to Catholicism after a long, drawn out conversion and lots of study? Whose writings on women are cuttingly relevant today, decades later? Who had lots of sharp edges that were only tamed by the love of God?


Can we talk about all the women saints who weren't supposed to have opinions and weren't supposed to speak up and who weren't supposed to be good at things and be noticed and who weren't supposed to do that, whatever that was? gosh, can't you just get married and follow expectations? can't you do things according to cultural and familial traditions and forget this "universal call to holiness?"

Can we talk about these women who lived the Gospel, in whatever life they lived?

Can we talk about the sheer badassery of women and of saints? (pardon my French)

And then can we stop pretending that Mary was any different? Can we realize that she was the example for all these women?

this is the sort of thing i don't like.

We have this tendency to assume that Mary was this quiet, peaceful girl who never did anything wrong and always was clean and never got acne or even a suntan, despite the fact that she lived in Palestine.

And while she was without sin, that doesn't mean that she never overcooked dinner or dropped things that weren't meant to be dropped or was Milk-White Princess Mary™.

Personally, I hate the Good Catholic version of Mary, doormat Mary; Pinterest Mary, mostly because she's made up.

After all, all these women of God, these brave, daring, amazing women had Mary as their example, and they were human. For goodness' sake, Therese was afraid of spiders.

So being like Mary doesn't--can't--mean being a pushover. It doesn't mean smiling sweetly in a sort of daydreamy haze all the time. It does however, mean being tough as nails, because when we talk about Mary, let's remember that she was still an unmarried teen mother who took a road trip on the back of a donkey while nine months pregnant. She wasn't exactly everyone in Nazareth's idea of a perfect woman.

Really, being like Mary means following God's will. It means running headfirst into whatever He calls you to, whether you understand or not. It means giving everything to Jesus--every minute of every day.

And that is absolutely worth emulating.

God bless.

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NEWS
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I changed my blog theme. Call it spring cleaning. Also, now it is sparkly. Anyway.

Also, if anyone ever has any post topic suggestions/comments they don't feel comfortable sharing with the entire Internet/prayer requests/whatever you can email me at michaelmasandroses{at}gmail{dot}com.  

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