My Brothers' Keeper

The wind whipped through the abandoned camp, the gaps in the barbed wire fences, the houses that evil built. My feet stepped cautiously along the cobblestone and dirt roads where evil tread. My eyes saw mounds of hair that evil sheared, piles of tattered shoes that evil stole, prisons where evil sneered, walls riddled with bullet holes where evil killed, ovens where evil burned. Evil was in the wind that blew through Auschwitz that day, chilling me to my core, taunting me, asking me, "Why did God forsake this place, these people who suffered and cried out for His help? Why did no one save them?"

I remembered words written by a young girl: "In spite of everything, I still believe people are basically good at heart," Anne Frank wrote from her attic prison. Did she change her mind when she reached this place? Evil made sure that the world will never know. I was different when I walked out of the ghost camp that October evening. I had seen and felt what could not be conveyed in a classroom history lesson. I wondered how God could possibly let something so terrible happen to so many innocent people. It was easier to trust in God's mercy and love before, but now that I had seen and tasted real human suffering for myself, how could I believe? A faint hope rose in me--at least I could rest in the confidence that we would never allow something like this to go on today. And then as quickly as hope rose, it disappeared: it is going on today. It began in 1973 and continues today--50 million innocent human lives destroyed. A force greater than the gusty Poland wind suddenly moved in my heart--the cry of God, "The voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground." (Gen. 4:10) The voice of our brothers' blood calls to us from the ground, from the dumpsters where they are carelessly tossed, from the jars that line the walls of an abortionist's office, from the execution rooms, from the battlefields, from a grocery store in Arizona.

There is blood everywhere. And we wonder, who is going to clean this mess up? In the film The Passion of the Christ, the Mother of Christ gets on her hands and knees to clean up her own Son's blood after His scourging. After His death, she holds his bloodied, bruised, broken, body and looks at us with haunting eyes as if to say, "See how much He loves you?" More than we can know. He actually did that for us, to cleanse us with His Mercy. He showed us what it means to be His brothers' keeper by showing mercy, by loving everyone, and by giving up His life so that we may live. He did this for us and said, "Now do this for others."

That said, the freezing march through Washington D.C. on Monday morning will quite literally be a walk in the park compared to His struggle up to Calvary under the crushing weight of our sins. But it is a step along the Way. With renewed hope and trust in God's mercy, I will march with fellow pro-lifers up to the steps of the Supreme Court building and I will PRAY to God that people wake up and realize that this is LIFE we are talking about, our brothers and sisters. Whether or not you are able to join the thousands marching through D.C. this weekend, I ask you to at least take a moment to pray with us for the souls of our brothers and sisters who will never see the light of day, the Abels of our time. Let us be the voice of our brothers' blood crying out from the ground--the voice of truth.

You will not silence my message;

you will not mock my God;

and you WILL stop killing my generation.

(Pro-life Youth pledge, Rock for Life)

Tangled on the Battlefield

Shortly after I posted my entry "Seek Him First," a friend of mine told me she felt the same way, that she doesn't want to settle for less than the best in a relationship. But she also said that even though girls like us refuse to waste our time on a relationship that we know from the beginning won't go anywhere, a part of us still wants to waste that time. Which is so true. We hold onto this dream, but we don't want to settle for less. It's this inward battle we constantly fight with ourselves: the joy of being free versus the dread of being that witch with a b who turned a nice guy down; the freedom in finally being honest about your feelings versus the pain of losing a friend. It is a constant battle between the heart and mind, a tangled mess that no amount of brushing can mend.

When I took my six-year-old sister to see Disney's Tangled in the theater, there were moments when I felt like I was watching scenes from my own life. The film is a sweet and funny adventure story that portrays the tale of Rapunzel as she escapes her tower and ventures forth on a journey of self-discovery. I admit without shame that I loved it as much as (if not more than) my little sister did.

I have always been a sucker for Disney movies, especially its princesses. But unlike other princesses, Rapunzel isn't just a blonde girl trapped in a tower, weak and defenseless, waiting for her prince to save her. She is innocent and naive, but, armed with a frying pan, she takes charge of her destiny. Though she disobeys her "mother" to sneak out of her tower in search of an adventure, she finds herself battling conflicting feelings--the freedom of taking charge and being her own person versus the guilt of hurting her mother, the thrill of chasing after dreams versus the dullness of staying trapped in everyday reality. Fighting this battle and finding the balance is what makes us strong on our own journeys of self-discovery.

When Rapunzel breaks down the walls around her, she is able to discover more about the world and about herself. Her trust in the goodness of humanity and her refusal to express any fear inspires courage for the fight for good all around her, including in her thief escort, Flynn Rider. Her desire to be more and to have more than the confined space of her tower prison sent her on a journey in search of herself, and along the way she also finds love. The end of the film portrays not so much a happily ever after as it does the beginning of a new adventure, the search of a new dream.

This year I am breaking down the walls of "what ifs" and the feelings and fears that have held me back in the past. I am breaking free from these tangled chains and setting on a journey to find more and to be more than the damsel in distress I once was.

Rachel's Contrition and hope in fiction

When I was growing up, my parents were pretty strict about the kinds of books they let us read. In high school, I was not allowed to take certain honors English courses because of the books that were read and discussed in class. Because of that, my reading horizon never expanded far past generic Christian fiction. Whenever I did have the chance to read or learn about "real" literature in school, I always loved to read a few chapters or excerpts, but never cared much to read the whole novel. I liked to taste the different writing styles and read summaries to get a feel for the book, but I rarely had the patience to spend time reading them all the way through. This often made me feel inadequate as an English major, but I survived. The very last class I took at Franciscan, Teaching Writing as a Process, actually did a wonderful job pulling together everything I had learned in my four years. Though it was geared toward those going into teaching, I learned a great deal about myself as a writer, and how the different teachers in my life (especially my parents) helped me grow into the person I am today. I found this quote in the textbook:

"Tell your daughter that she can learn a great deal about writing by reading and by studying books about grammar and the organization of ideas, but if she wishes to write well she will have to become someone. She will have to discover her beliefs, and then speak to us from within those beliefs. If her prose doesn't come out of her belief,...she will only be passing along information, of which we are in no great need." ~Barry Lopez, About This Life

My parents taught me this in their own way, and I am very grateful. I learned that it is more important to act as a child of God than to succeed in worldly terms. They taught me the importance of holding onto my faith and putting it first in my life, that the most important thing we can do with our gifts is to use them for the glory of God. I want to use my gifts to glorify God, but at times I fear failure. What if I spend years or even decades working on a book, and it never goes anywhere? Is there even a Catholic fiction market? How do I write the kind of book that glorifies God but can also reach millions of people? (And okay, I know that reaching millions isn't the goal--even touching just one soul is enough--but what writer doesn't secretly dream about a bestseller?)

My mom gave me hope for Christmas in the form of a book by Catholic author Michelle Buckman. The book, Rachel's Contrition, had high ratings on Amazon, even though it was a story about the writings of St. Therese helping a woman heal from the painful events in her life. It sounded promising, so I began reading. Then I couldn't stop. One taste of her writing wasn't enough--I devoured the whole book. I wasn't sure what was going on at first. It didn't sound like a typical Christian book. It was very well-written with a single distinctive voice. None of the characters were preachy. There was heart and soul, pain and healing, human weakness and the all-consuming power of a loving God. The story moved so that I kept wanting more. I felt completely transported into Rachel's world. In a way, I was her. I lost myself in her despair and found myself rising in her hope. I highly recommend you read Rachel's Contrition for yourself--then let me know what you think!

2011: The New Beginning (Watch Out, World)

Happy New Year! I wish you the best in this coming year, and much luck with your resolutions (if you made any). I keep telling people (only half-joking) that my New Year's resolution is to get a life. I suppose technically I mean, get a new life, but anyway, here's what I mean:

As a writer, I often look at things I've worked on for a long time and decide that they're not going where I want them to go. The ideas are right but the execution is off, or the technique is good but the point is unclear. The beauty is that I always have the power to change it: I either take my pen to a fresh page in the notebook, or I open a new Word document and add a 2 at the end of the work's title so I know it's the second draft. There are many new beginnings within the "Creative Writing" folder on my computer, but I never throw my old drafts away. I keep them for reference to remind myself why I changed certain elements and kept others the same. I confess, though, that certain mismatched documents exist solely for experimentation and exercise. The "bestseller" I began in high school is now pages of rambling nonsense that I come back to on occasion when I lack fresh ideas but need to write something. 2010 was one of those mismatched documents.

Last year was probably the most colorful year I can remember. Everything was different, and everything was more difficult than before. I experienced an incredible amount of healing, as well as significant amounts of failures and disappointments that seemed to clash with my accomplishments and joys. Though I am not proud of many things that I could have done differently, I regret nothing. Even my mistakes are there so that I don't have to make them again. And even though I didn't exactly get where I wanted to go, I won't disregard the whole year as worthless. It will just sit in my files as that crazy year when hardly anything fit together, and nothing ever seemed to make much sense.

To celebrate New Year's Eve and bid good riddance to 2010, I went to confession and noon Mass, to wipe my slate clean and find the grace necessary to begin again. At Mass, the reading was the beginning of John: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through him, and without Him, nothing was made that has been made....From his fullness have we all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ." (John 1:1-2, 16-17--full reading John 1:1-18)

I love that John's Gospel reflects back to the book of Genesis, to the beginning of all creation. He makes it clear that Christ was present in that first beginning, but that He comes now as part of the new beginning. The common thread that weaves the old draft with the new. We were created in Him, taught how to live according to the law. But now He has come to transform our stony hearts, to fill us with the fullness of life, and to make us a new creation.

I see my life as a book like the Bible. The last 23 years were my old testament, my growing up as a child of God. Now begins my new testament, the fulfilling of my vocation. I finished school and learned the "law" given by God and written on my heart. The next however many years, starting TODAY will be me actually living what I've learned (and learning more along the way of course!). I am filled with such a sense of hope and peace. I still have no idea where God wants me to go, but now I am MUCH more determined to get there! He has made me a new creation and given me a new year...WATCH OUT, WORLD.

Here's to 2011...may it be your best year yet.