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.

**********
NEWS
**********

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.  

Oh, and check out the blog on Facebook. If you like my page, then posts will show up in your newsfeed! How fun!

things i've learned

JMJ
AMDG

This is more a letter to my preteen/young teenage self than anything.

1. You are more beautiful than you know. You are more of a mess than you know. You are loved more than you could ever comprehend.
2. Being "not like other girls" isn't any way to try to go through life. Girls can like Anne of Green Gables and girls can like superheroes and girls can like makeup and girls can like music and art and math and writing and none of these things are what defines you and you can like more than one thing at once.
3. Also, have friends who are girls. They may be harder to get to know than the guys, but it is worth it. Find girls who will love you as you are, but who will also push you to be kinder, realer, holier.
4. If it is worth doing, it is worth doing badly. It if is important, go for it, even if you might kinda suck at whatever it is at first.
5. People probably aren't thinking about what you're wearing as much as you are. That being said, wear clothes that fit you and flatter you and find a style that suits your body and personality. You'll feel better about the way you look, even if no one else notices.
6. Sharing your faith isn't actually that terrifying. Go for it.
7. Good music can change your mood. So can a shower. So can chocolate. So can a talk with a good friend. Don't be afraid to be happy. Don't make yourself miserable.
8. Read things that make you laugh; make you cry; make you think. Make time for beauty.
9. You can't do anything that will diminish your intrinsic worth as a human being; nor can you ever make God stop loving you.
10. Your dream, your path in life, the plan God has for you may not look like everyone else's, and that's okay. Or it might look surprisingly normal, and that's just as okay.
11. Go to confession. It's okay if you cry. It's okay if it's been a few months, or years, or decades.
12. Sing loudly in Mass/church services/bonfire singalongs/car dance parties. You have nothing to lose and your voice is not as awful as you're convinced it is. A joyful voice is better than an operatic one.
13. Changing your sheets always feels really nice. So does walking into a tidy bedroom. this is lowkey directed at my sisters who read my blog, but really, it's a great way to end your day.
14. Actually talk to God about stuff--your fears, hopes, dreams, what you did that day, how much you like nachos, whatever. Writing it down helps me focus, so maybe also get a journal.
15. If that guy doesn't like you back, you will live through it. Really. Really, I swear.
16. Sometimes the kindest people are the ones who look the messiest on the outside.
17. There is such a thing as oversharing, but it's healthy and good to be vulnerable and open up about what you're dealing with at any given time instead of keeping it all inside.
18. Find what makes you happy. Do it. Love things. Love people. Fall wildly, messily in love with things and care about things and take an interest in the world around you. God didn't create the world as a massive temptation waiting to trip you up at every step; He made it as a gift to us. It's only natural to accept it.
19. Dancing with guys isn't that big a deal. and if the guys won't dance, dance with your girlfriends. There's no reason someone else's lack of participation should mean you can't have fun.
20. Smile at people. Be kind. Learn to look at them the way Jesus would.
21. You'll fail. you are not a failure.
22. You might not be conventionally pretty. You might hate the way you look, or other people might ridicule you for it. Ignore them. Ignore your own negative thoughts. You may not be pretty, but as a daughter of God, you will always be beautiful.
23. Live bravely. Live beautifully. Laugh a lot, even if no one else is. God bless.

arise.

JMJ
AMDG

my lover speaks, he says to me, arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! for see the winter is past, the rains are over and gone. --songs 2:10

When Lent ends and it's Easter; when the weather grows warmer and we sing Alleluia, I have a hard time adjusting to being joyful. I overload on chocolate and sing Alleluia, but if feels wrong--for some reason, it's hard or me to remember that being joyful--being happy, even-- is a good thing.

It's somehow hard to believe that it's actually spring again--that the leaves on the trees are real, actually real, that it will continue to get warm again.

i took this picture!

I struggle to accept the fact that God isn't trying to make me miserable all the time. I hear suffering is a gift, and my anxious mind translates that to, despair is inevitable and if I am happy it means I am doing something wrong.

But my God says to me--arise. Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one. Arise from the darkness of sin and brokenness, arise from the things that keep you from sleeping at night, arise and leave it all behind because the winter is past, the rains are over and gone.

There is darkness in this world. There's a lot of it. There's people starving and dying on roadsides, and there is war and homelessness and malnutrition. There is pornography and abortion and children whose bruises match their parents' hands. There is rape and self-harm and suicide. There are girls who stare in the mirror and don't know that they are beautiful. There are people falling and falling over again because they don't know any other way to live.

But arise. The winter is past, the rains are over and gone. There is a lot of darkness, but He's taken care of it. He died so that you wouldn't have to bear it alone.

And so I think it's okay for me to be happy.

There's a lot that I struggle to let go of--past hurt and pain and the memories of people who have genuinely wronged me, whether it was intentional or not.

But my lover speaks, He says to me, arise. 

And it still hurts, but maybe not quite as much.


arise.

***
also arise has stopped looking like a real word after writing this, but that's whatever. God bless.

the strength to do what is right

JMJ

AMDG

This is more or less the short talk I gave at my parish's Confirmation retreat last week. Except neater and better thought out because I'm not holding a microphone and standing in front of a bunch of people.

***

I was confirmed five years ago, and I was a little bit of a disaster. As I walked up the steps to the altar, all I could think was "please God, don't make me speak in tongues or do anything crazy."

Since the point of Confirmation is to bring us to God and allow us to do His will more clearly, this fear and reluctance was not the best attitude to have.

So I was confirmed, and life went on.

I've always been Catholic, always knew about Jesus, but it took me a long time to start letting God into my life. I was afraid that He'd ask me to do something too big for me, something that would crush me and make me miserable.

Eventually, I realized that I was miserable; that I do need God, and so I started letting Him love me and accepting His gifts for what they are.

The thing about gifts is that you don't have to like them. We probably all have the weird sweater from our grandmother, or its equivalent, and it sits balled up in the back of a closet or drawer. We also have received things we love, things we take delight in.

The thing about gifts is you get a choice whether or not to use them.

It's the same with the gifts of the Holy Spirit. At your confirmation, you are given all these gifts. 

And basically what I did was toss them all in a corner like "nope, maybe later." I was afraid. I was afraid of what God might want of me if I handed everything over to Him. I was afraid I wouldn't be strong enough.

That is absolutely not true. 

At confirmation, you are given seven gifts. One of these is fortitude, which is the strength to live out the Faith. It's the strength to stand up for what is right even when no one else is, and it's also the strength to trust God even when nothing seems like it will work and everything looks pointless. It's the guts to do whatever God may be calling you to and the heart to carry that out.

At confirmation, you get superpowers. Now, Captain America--he's got superpowers. He's got super-strength, sort of like fortitude. Now, he could choose not to be heroic. He could choose to just be a super-buff guy who lives in somebody's basement and plays video games and eats Cheetos all day, but he doesn't, and it would be stupid if he did. He has the strength to save people, and so he does.

And you--at confirmation, you are given the strength to live for God, to bring Him glory in a way no one else has done before. 

He will give you the fortitude to face whatever it is you end up facing on this earth. 

All you have to do is let Him help you.

free-range evangelization

JMJ
AMDG

Recently, I skinned my knee. My family and I were leaving church, and I was carrying my youngest brother pick-a-back, and he said "run" and the parking lot was empty, so I started running and got about ten feet before I tripped over my shoes and went sprawling with sixty pounds of brother driving me into the ground. I ripped up my awesome blue tights and my knee and wound up with a nasty scab that was yellow in some places and red in others and sometimes oozed stuff and eventually cracked off/was picked off while watching Downton Abbey. Now it's a patch of weird looking pinkish-purple skin and doesn't hurt any more but it's still weird.

(my brother, by the way, used me as a cushion and didn't get a mark on him.)

I work as a lifeguard and wear shorts when I guard, so my knee is on display for whomever comes in. Several of the regulars asked what happened to me, especially because I had it all wound up in an ace bandage. Band-aids and joints go together about the same as open wounds and gross pool decks. So, I told them each the story about how I tripped over my own feet in a parking lot. One guy, a man I hadn't seen before, asked if it was at the Y that I'd done it, and I said no, it was at church. And he asked me where I go to church and I told him. And then he talked about how it was good to see that I went to church, because it's really just awful how many people don't believe in God and I said yeah, it's really sad, and then he asked if I would pray for him, and I said sure. And then he said he'd pray for me, and asked my name, and as he started to paddle down the length of the pool he called out that he was praying for me right then.

And I don't know if he'll ever set foot in a Catholic church. I don't know if he will remember me talking about being Catholic. I don't know if he will ever wonder more about the church I call home and ask questions.

I know that it was an encounter that touched my heart. I don't know if it touched his, but I'd like to think so.

Because the point of evangelization, the point of the gospel, the very heart of it all, isn't winning debates. It's loving, and it's proclaiming the good news. It's having the guts to say "yeah, I go to church,", and it's not laughing at that joke and it's making the sign of the Cross in public and yeah, sometimes arguments and counter-arguments are necessary.

But you are not the point. When we die, there will be no scorecard of how many theological smackdowns you smote that co-worker with. There will be no awards due to how many people you fricking schooled on the Real Presence or the Virgin Birth or the papacy.

Even thought that's easier, isn't it?

It's easier to get angry and it's easier to set it up as a legal debate and it's easier to make it all a head game, but human beings have hearts and before any of that, we have to love and we have to be presented with things in a natural, human way if we are to really learn them and care about them.

And I think a lot of us think that you need to go to a far off place to evangelize, or have a theology degree. We think you need to be a confrontational person, or a really nice person.

Nope.

There is evangelization by means of the soap-box, by means of scholarly papers, but more important, I think, is the kind that comes slowly and naturally.

There is the messy kind, the human kind, the kind that comes in answering questions about that funny brown necklace you wear; the kind that comes in mentioning Mass when someone asks what you did over the weekend, The kind that comes of saying "I'm sorry to hear that," and then saying "I'll pray for you," and then actually praying. The kind that comes when you live life the way Jesus did and let the consequences of that come as they may.

And it's hard. It's very hard, but maybe it shouldn't be. Because it's like telling someone you got accepted to that school, or you're getting married, or you got that promotion, or he asked you out, or that meeting went way better than you expected, or you were able to get free ice cream; except it's so much better than that, because ice cream and acceptance letters won't last forever, but He will, and His love for you will.

Ask Him to let you see Him in the ordinary. Live like He is your best friend, the sort of person whose name comes up in casual conversation. Because even skinned knees can be an evangelization.

saint mary magdalene

JMJ
AMDG

Mary Magdalene is the woman whom Jesus set free from seven demons who became a disciple and followed him to the cross and was there at the tomb early on Sunday morning while it was still dark. She was sent to tell the apostles that He had risen, and so because she's the first official missionary, she holds a special place in my heart. Some people, myself included, go with the theory that Mary Magdalene is the reformed prostitute who anointed Jesus' feet and washed them with her tears and dried them with her hair. Some people say no, that was a different woman. it's also clear as to whether or not Mary Magdalene is the Mary who was the sister of Lazarus and Martha.

Whoever she is, Mary Magdalene was a mess before Jesus delivered her. She was broken and lost and then He picked her up out of the dust of her sins and her mess and she became a perfect, god-fearing saint of a woman.

Except she didn't.

oh, and check this out. i'd never heard it before
and it's super cool. 

She didn't trust that He would rise again, because on Sunday morning, she was going to anoint His body.

She was so distraught she didn't recognize Him, thinking He was the gardener.

And when He called her name---Mary

--she knew He was calling her, and she ran to Him.

Still, not in quite the right way at first. He told her to stop clinging to Him{stop touching Him} He was asking her to love Him as her Savior, and not just as her teacher. He was asking her to proclaim Him risen; He was asking her to live for Him every day for as long as she lived because He loves her and He didn't want to spend eternity without her.

And she did; she loved him with everything she was, but because she was human she was a sinner and according to tradition, she spent years living alone in the desert praying and fasting.

Mary Magdalene gives me a lot of hope, because I'm a mess.

It's easy to think, after a conversion or a retreat or a really good homily or Confession or any deep, profound spiritual experience, that you Have Got It All Under Control. It's easy to think that your life will now change and you'll just sail along with life and waltz straight into heaven.

Be still a moment. Can you hear the angels laughing?

You don't have it under control. A day or a week or a month or a year or five years later I guarantee you will be losing your mind over nothing and you will be cranky and far from God and be the antithesis of Under Control.

Sure, you can change your life, or rather, let God change it for you. But you're still human, and like Mary Magdalene, even after He's delivered you, you can still doubt. You probably will doubt. You'll probably have days of crying over nothing and days where you go to confession for that stupid thing that you just can't seem to get over.

And that's okay. Sure, strive for holiness. Strive to be perfect, as your Father in Heaven is perfect.

But remember, when you fall, He will always pick you back up again, no matter how many times you've fallen before or what you've done in the past.

Mary Magdalene is a great reminder of this, and as I stumble along the road to Heaven, tripping over my own feet, I ask her to pray for me, and I ask Jesus for the mercy He showed her.

St. Mary Magdalene, pray for us!

blessed frederic ozanam

JMJ
AMDG

1813-1853
Once upon a time, Frederic Ozanam was a normal guy. He was a college student. A Catholic college student. Although he'd struggled with his faith as a teenager, he'd come to accept it and believe in it, but still, it took him by surprise one day when at a debate club, a club member said, "Let us be frank, Mr. Ozanam; let us also be very particular. What do you do besides talk to prove the faith you claim is in you?"

And that hit home for twenty year old Frederic. He and some friends started visiting the Paris slums, and eventually he was a founder of the St. Vincent de Paul Society. 

Frederic Ozanam, in case you hadn't
figured that out.

He was an everyman-sort-of-saint--there are no great miracles attributed to Frederic in his lifetime, no years spent living alone in the desert wilds, no stigmata, no levitation or speaking in tongues. 

But the thing is, he knew how to love.

He loved the poor; he loved the disadvantaged. He loved the people of Paris--he talked the bishop into bringing in a priest skilled in preaching to lead a Lenten mission at Notre Dame; he was a literature professor, and he loved his students.

He loved his wife---Frederic Ozanam married Amelie Soulacroix on June 23, 1841, and from then on, on the twenty third of every month, he gave Amelie a bouquet of flowers. After two miscarriages, they were blessed with a daughter, Marie, and so Frederic loved her with everything he had, the way he loved everyone God gave him.

Frederic Ozanam died of tuberculosis when he was forty years old, but he gave that time to God and the people around him came to know God and His mercy through Frederic. God called Frederic to be a missionary of mercy.

He's calling you to do the same.

Blessed Frederic Ozanam, pray for us!

**note-- i'm really bad at being merciful, so to whomever's reading this: pray for me?

holy and venerable hands

JMJ

AMDG

One of my favorite things about the 2011 Mass translation is the phrase "holy and venerable hands" in Eucharistic prayer I. 

this is by Juan de Juanes, in case you were wondering. 

I think I love it mostly because it's so human.

I love it because God chose to have hands, to touch the messy realness of our world. I love it because I stare at my hands and think, I have a God who chose to look like me.

I love it because it brings out the truth of the Incarnation, that God became flesh and dwelt among us.

In ancient times, there was a tradition of tattooing the master's name on the slave's hand. Isaiah 44:5 reflects this: One shall say, "I am the Lord's," another shall be named after Jacob, and this one shall write on his hand, "the Lord's", and Israel shall be his surname. One of my friends has the phrase "Yahweh yireh" or "God will provide" tattooed in Hebrew on her wrist. The idea of religious tattoos, of our bodies bearing the mark of God, is nothing new. Paul speaks of this after a fashion in Galatians 6:17--henceforth, let no man trouble me, for I bear the brand marks of Jesus in my body, although he is referencing the marks left on his body by persecution. Whatever the cause of these brands, they are there for a remembrance, a physical exhortation to never forget the God Who has saved us.

But it goes even deeper than that. In Isaiah 49:15-16, the Lord says, Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you. See, upon the palms of my hands I have written your name, and He is making Himself our servant. He is like us in all things but sin, and He came to love us, to redeem us, to give us everything we could ever have imagined and more. He let nails be driven through his hands for you, and his pierced hands are Him telling you that He loves you. He washes our feet, forgives our sins, heals our wounds, dies so that we don't have to.

He is telling you that you are loved, that you are His, and that He will never forget you.

He took on a body for us, a body with hands, and when He lifted up the bread and wine that was His body and blood, that night two thousand years ago, He was thinking of you.

Holy and venerable hands--because He loves you.  <3

for those days

JMJ
AMDG

So, this is one of those days when the cat went missing and your keys went missing and that five bucks you thought you left in your back pocket isn't there, and you dropped your toast honey side down on the floor you didn't sweep, and now you're a mess and you got something sticky all down the front of your shirt and you're overall just a mess.

It's one of those days when you're crying in the shower and you're crying at your desk and trying not to let it show. It's one of those days when if you look out the window for too long, the trees will start to remind you of whatever it is that is breaking your heart and you start crying again.

Or maybe it's not one of those days. Maybe it's one of those weeks, one of those months, one of those winters, one of those years, of those couple years. Maybe you feel broken and unloved and lost and you don't know what to do or where to turn.

Dear heart, go to Jesus.

Once upon a time, not that long ago, I was having one of those years and my world was falling apart around me and I'd tried pride and I'd tried stubbornness and I'd tried getting angry and I was so, so afraid to try Jesus, because what if He didn't care?

Dear heart, He does.

He thinks you're beautiful. He rejoices over you. He is wildly, madly, in love with you. 

Ah, you are beautiful, my beloved! Ah, you are beautiful!(Songs 1:15)

He will rejoice over you with gladness, and renew you in His love. He will sing joyfully because of you, as one sings at festivals. (Zephaniah 3:17)

It is finished. (John 19:30)

I know that it hurts. I know it very well. It won't necessarily stop hurting when you turn to Him, because that's not the way it works.

Go to Confession. Go for a long walk in a quiet place. Go for a drive and stop in the middle of nowhere. Go to Adoration. Go to Confession.

Tell Him everything, dear heart. Tell Him where it hurts; tell Him how you feel lonely or insignificant or broken or lost or not good enough or all of them at once.

Maybe you'll never get that scholarship or that grade or that time or that raise or that boyfriend or that baby or whatever else it is you're wanting. Maybe you'll never, ever, get it. Maybe that will always hurt.

But that's okay.

That's not what you're really longing for, is it?

You want to be happy, with everything you are. You want joy.

Dear heart, He'll give you that.

He'll give you Himself; because as much as you're aching for whatever it is you're aching for, He's aching for you just as much.

The thing is, He doesn't really care what you've done. He will always, always love you, when you're at your best.

But He loves you just as much when you're at your worst, too. He loves Peter, even when Peter denied Him. He loves Thomas, even when Thomas doubted Him. He loves you, even when you deny Him or doubt Him or reject Him. He will leave the ninety-nine to find you, because He thought you were worth making, and He doesn't want you to die not realizing that He died for you. 

He might not give you what it is you're wanting right now. or He might. I have no idea. But He will give you peace. He will give you strength. He will give you faith.

ask. 

He will give you guidance. He will give you patience. He will give you hope.

seek.

He will give you light. He will give you truth. He will give you love.

knock.


Deep down, you are searching for light, for peace, for rest, for Him.
He will give you that. Always.
Run to Jesus, dear heart. He is waiting for you with open arms.

While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him and was deeply moved. he ran out to meet him, threw his arms around his neck, and kissed him. (Luke 15:20)

Maybe this isn't one of those days, but if it isn't, then that day will come, and please remember: you are loved.

I'm praying for you.

love then, consists in this

JMJ

AMDG

You are loved.

Really.

You don't get a choice in that. You are loved beyond the farthest reaches of human comprehension by a God Who allowed Himself to suffer all the small indignities of human life; Who allowed Himself to be beaten into a bloody mess and crowned with thorns and kicked and spat on and nailed to a piece of wood because He wanted to prove to you--you--that He loves you. He wants to be with you--you forever. For all eternity.

It didn't have to cost Him anything. He's God, after all. He could have waved His hand and started over. He could have made it so that Eden just didn't matter. He could have shrugged and let the world spin out its days without hope of Him.

Except, He couldn't.

He couldn't, because He loves you, and you can run from that love all you want. I ran for a long, long time, but He is faster and He will always catch up with you, because darling, He's God. He's wildly, passionately in love with you and He can and He will do whatever is necessary to make sure you know that.

The book of Hosea is often forgotten. It’s towards the back of the Old Testament, and it tells the story of Hosea, who married the harlot Gomer. Gomer left Hosea but he went after her and bought her back with everything he had.

And the thing is, this isn't just a story about an Old Testament couple who could have used counseling. No, this, like everything in the Bible, means something. In this case, it's an analogy for the way that God loves Israel. It’s an analogy for the way God loves the world; the way God loves the Church; the way God loves you. 

And in Hosea 2, God says to Israel---God says to you: "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." --Hosea 2:21-22

And in Isaiah 62:4-5, He says, "No more shall men call you "Forsaken," or your land "Desolate," but you shall be called "My Delight," and your land "Espoused." For the Lord delights in you, and makes your land his spouse. As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you; and as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride, so shall your God rejoice in you."

Or did you ever read the Song of Songs? Where He calls you beautiful? (Songs 1:15; 4:1), where He calls you "as awe-inspiring as bannered troops"? (Songs 6:4), where he calls you His beloved? (Songs 2:10)

Or what about 1 John 4:10--love, then, consists in this: not that we have loved God, but that He has loved us and has sent His Son as an offering for our sins.

And those verses are by no means comprehensive; the love story that is you and God is written all over the pages of the Bible, from Genesis where he breathed life into humankind so that we might know Him, to Revelation, where He promises us glory if we will only accept His love.

Dear heart, God loves you as His bride.

There is no reason why He had to make humans. God is perfect in and of Himself, and He could have gone on being Himself and not ever made anything.

Except He didn't want to, because that meant He never would have made you, and he is deeply, intensely in love with you. 

He loves you as a man loves his bride, whether you are man or woman, married or single, young or old. He gives you jewelry in raindrops and lightning and stars; He gives you flowers in every roadside blossom or greenhouse or forest; He gives you Himself, body, blood, soul and divinity, in every Mass.

Love, then, consists in this: a God Who would die for you for no other reason than because He loves you. He died for your sins because He doesn't want to spend eternity without you. He is waiting for you in the Eucharist because He doesn't want you to be alone. 

The greatest love story of all time is 

contained in a tiny white Host

--Fulton Sheen

Maybe you don't feel loved right now. Maybe you've never felt that loved. Or maybe you have close friends and a strong family who care about you deeply, but His love is better than anything and it is far, far better than any love we can have between any two humans.

St. Augustine wrote, "Our hearts are restless until they rest in You, O Lord,", so go, and let Him give you rest. Go, and let Him love you. 

Let Him love you, dear heart. Let him fill every corner of your dented, dusty soul, and let Him make you new again. Go to Confession. Sit with Him in Adoration. 

Let Him love you.

Because He does. And you can never, ever change that. 

********

note--this is probably mostly for the women. Or maybe it's for men too. I’m very much a woman, and so I don't have the inside scoop on how men think. If you're a man and this speaks to you, that is awesome, and blessed be God. But if you're a man and you think I’m crazy or that this is really weird, I'm sorry, but this wasn't really written with you in mind.

on leaving home

I've been thinking a lot about home lately.

I only have six and a half months left here, here being my parents' house where I've lived for nearly eighteen years; here being Ohio; here being this little corner of the world where I've spent all my life to date.

But is here really home?
They say home is where the heart is, but the thing is, my heart is in so many places.

My heart is in the passenger seat of my best friend's car, where we've had so many conversations about saints and boys and love and Doctor Who and marriage and God and nothing in particular. Love you, Abbs.

My heart is in the YMCA where I've worked since sophomore year of high school, with the kids I coach, all of them messy and funny and just barely starting to grow up.

My heart is in the big library downtown, where my friends and I used to hang out like the nerds we were are.

My heart is in the dogwood tree in my front yard. My heart is in the creek that runs through my neighborhood. My heart is in all the words I've written and all the songs I've sung in this little house here in the Midwest-that's-not-the-Midwest.

But more than any of those things, my heart is in the little chapel my best friend and I snuck into at ten pm. My heart is in the little Portiuncula chapel I found my way to last month. My heart is in the big almost-empty church downtown where my friends and I used to meet for Mass and picnics after. My heart is in the old church where I made my first communion; where I was confirmed. My heart is in the church a mile and a half down the road from my house; my heart is where He is.

Home is where His heart is.
Wherever there is a Tabernacle, there is a home for me, and by God's grace, I will not miss here too much, because how can you be homesick when you're already home?

I am leaving here this August. I am setting off on a journey; a quest of sorts. I am going to be working with NET Ministries, traveling the country telling people of His love and singing His name and being wildly, madly in love with Him and encouraging others to do the same.

I am nervous and I am excited and this is all so wild and crazy and I can't wait.

I am going on an adventure. I don't expect I shall return. In fact, I plan not to. I plan to leave myself scattered across the United States, in churches and chapels, in houses and on highways, because I plan to fall in love this year, and falling in love means being broken and fitting Someone else between the cracks until you're someone new entirely.

By the grace of God, I will be leaving here in six and a half months.

I will not be leaving home.

the intrinsic superpower of womanhood

JMJ

AMDG

Women can get a lot of hate.

It’s shown in the way that every guy has that sappy falsetto he slips into whenever he's talking about something a girl said. It’s shown in the way that my dad gets laughs and comments whenever he mentions that he has four daughters. It’s the way that girls are laughed at for wanting to be pretty, wanting to be loved, wanting to change the world. It's shown in the way that people swing to extremes when talking about women--have ten kids if you want to be a good person! have a great career and be a CEO if  you want to have a good life!

Excuse me, have you ever actually met a woman?

Women are so much more than this.

It was a girl, who, when my world was falling apart around me, befriended me and showed me that life was good. It was a girl who taught me to love Mary as a person and not just as an idea. It has been girls who've taught me what it is that femininity looks like. It’s been girls who've given me a definite idea of who exactly it is I want to be.

There have been women of all ages and walks of life. There have been a lot of deep discussions and small groups and laughter and tears. There have been a lot of hugs hello and goodbye, and while girls can be nasty and snide and mean as all get out, there aren't many people who will hold you as tightly as your girlfriends will.

Cause here's the thing: women are insanely good at loving.

Some women show it more than others. Some women will be the ooey-gooey-lovey-squishy kind of women, and that's okay.

And some women hate wearing skirts and love video games and other stereotypical manly things, and that's okay too, because the thing is, women, when living for God, have a natural gift of loving other people.

Mothers are the best when it comes to loving, and all women are called to be mothers.

Some women will bear children from their body. Some won't. Some will someday but haven't yet. All women, though, bear a natural calling to motherhood.

You may find your children in the soul that you carry inside you for nine months. You may feed them smashed-up peas and other dubious soft goo. You may have to refuse to let them wear the ballerina tutu out of the house. You may have to refuse to let them wear that shirt out of the house. Your husband may walk them down the aisle at their weddings.

"The world does not need what women have.
It needs what women are."

--Saint Edith Stein

(Teresa Benedicta of the Cross)

Or you might find them in the girl who’s three years younger than you, the one who doesn't smile very often and looks a little terrified to do so. You may find them in kids you are paid to care for. You may find them in your siblings or cousins or someone else's siblings or cousins. You may find them in people your own age or people older or people younger.

Motherhood is not a choice. It is a treasure, and it is up to you to find where it lies.

It is written in the way our bodies are softer and smaller than men, made for holding tight to someone who's drifting or wide awake at one am or simply tired of living.

It is written in the way that women are more expressive about the little things; the way women lean forward when they're talking to one another. It is written in the way that we are so much quicker to touch, to embrace, to fall in love with someone whether they love us back or not. It is written in our desire to be beautiful--to make our very bodies echo the love that lies inside.

Note--beautiful can mean Audrey Hepburn or it can mean sparkly princess or it can mean jeans and converse or some of all of them, just like loving can mean screaming or whispering or laughing at night when everyone else is asleep.

My sisters, you hold such greatness inside you, and you are beautiful.

I’m not saying every girl is perfect. None of them are. I’m not saying every girl is a saint.

But every girl has the potential to be.

Dear heart, if you are reading this, you are worth it. You are worth Jesus dying for you and so you are worth it.

You have the power within you to go out and be a doctor or a mother or both. You can be an artist or a scientist or a writer or you can work at McDonalds and you will still be worth it.

Dear heart, you are far more beautiful than you know.

And those nights you've stayed up wondering if anyone would ever love you? It’s okay, He does.

Those days you've stared at college applications or job applications and wondered if you'd ever make it? It's okay. Cast all your cares on Him because He cares for you. (1 Peter 5:6-7)

Dear heart, you are beautiful and you are loved beyond all imagining and I don't care what you've done in the past, because He is standing before you with open arms, ready to forgive.

Dear heart, you can be a saint. In fact, you're meant to be.

And yes, I know how mean women can be. I’ve been on the receiving end of that before, and if you're reading this and wondering how I can tell that girl who's a b****h to you that she's beautiful, it's because she is. It’s because she, without a doubt, is loved by God, and that makes her worth something. And I know she might have cut you deep. I know it's hard to forgive. I know that it might take a long time.

But dear heart, being beautiful doesn't mean you can't be broken, too. Both you and she are both beautiful. Learn to live that and learn to see that in her.

If you are a woman, than that means you have the power to take on the world.

Go, and love with everything you are. The rest will come.

I’m praying for you.