In Suspense and Incomplete

When I began this blog a little over a year ago, it was intended to be a blog for young single women. As one of those girls who had never been in a relationship, I was tired of people who weren't single telling me, "Someday it'll happen to you. When you least expect it, the perfect guy will find you." Easy for them to say, I thought. I was tired of constantly looking ahead and wishing my life away, waiting for Someday to get here. I wanted to start living in the present, to accept myself for who I was "in suspense and incomplete." I wanted to learn how to live with a "single purpose," of coming to know myself better as a woman of God, so that when Someday comes, I will be ready. I wanted to share that journey with other girls like me, who had maybe been looking for themselves in all the wrong places. I wanted to stop pining for Mr. Right, so I set off on a journey.

The journey I have described in these posts has been my own journey of self-discovery in my singleness. Single with purpose. It was here that I wrote of the spiritual, the quirky, the inspiring, the passionate, the whatever-happened-to-be-on-my-mind-at-the-time. Each post I wrote taught me a little something about myself. Most especially, I came to realize that when I had reached a fork in the road, I heard Jesus whisper to me in the night, "You are mine, first and forever." He asked me to trust Him, so I took His hand. But as I followed Him down the road, I felt my heart breaking in ways I hadn't known possible. I kept looking back at what could have been down the other road, at the dreams that I still held onto. Looking back caused me to stumble and fall into deep holes along the way, but He always came back and picked me up, brushed me off, wiped away my tears. Together, we slowly picked up the pieces of my broken heart and broken dreams. Now, as I described in my previous post, I have found my way back home. He has mended the pieces of my heart and given me new dreams. Now I stand stronger and wiser, a woman rooted deeply in the heart of Christ.

From the beginning, I knew that I wanted to continue writing here only as long as I was single (I didn't want to become a 'Someday it will happen to you!' pep-talker.), but now that I have come to a place of such peace in my vocation, a place where new dreams have come alive in my heart, I find that I cannot continue writing here. It has been a lovely journey, made lovelier by all the positive comments I have received from you lovely readers! But I believe this is where this particular journey ends...the next one is only just beginning.

Off I go...

His Grace is enough. ~ 2 Corinthians 12:9

If You Would Come Back Home

This past weekend I had the opportunity to visit my alma mater. Though I was only a student there about eight months ago, it feels like a lifetime ago. As I sat in mass over the weekend I looked around and realized that I recognized only a handful of faces. The other hundreds were new, yet very much the same as the ones I knew there. It was as if everything had changed, yet also as if nothing had changed at all. Or maybe it was just that I had changed.

In the reunions I had with friends, in the beauty of the mass, in the buildings I called 'home' for four years I found myself again this weekend. For months now I have felt so stuck and stifled, so lost at home. It has less to do with living at home and working at the same job I've had since I was fifteen and more to do with a sick feeling that I had left a part of myself back at school. In all of the experiences I had in my four years at college, I did a lot of growing up and self-discovering. I began to really become me. But then I grew comfortable, bored. I stopped stretching myself and challenging myself to do more. I found my comfort zone and I stayed there, collecting dust, branching out only when absolutely necessary. By the time I realized what I had done, I tried to break free and get on with my life, but I found that I had forgotten who I was, and who I was becoming. I had forgotten where I came from.

In the past few months, I've been able to see that my parents planted all kinds of seeds of faith in me, but it wasn't until I reached Franciscan and chose to let God nurture them that they really began to bloom. Then when there were so many distractions around me, I tried to ask Him to stop. I told Him that I had had enough growing, that I was content to just stick with what I had. It's like asking the surgeon to stop stitching you up when he's only partially finished: "I can take it from here," you might slur under the anesthesia. Then you'd get up from the table with a gushing, gaping wound in your side, stumble and fall to floor. That is basically what I did.

I think all I really wanted was more time. I wanted more time with my friends, one more round of bowling, one more late night study party at Tim Horton's, one more adventure in the city. This weekend, I didn't exactly get what I would consider my dying wish, but it was definitely my living wish. I wanted to reconnect with the 'home' where I made so many mistakes, where I did not do perhaps as much as I could or should have done to prepare for my future. The place where I realized that my parents are wonderful, but they are only human. The place where I realized that love is not as simple as it seems. The place where I glimpsed all I could be and I tried to hide from it.

I went back to that place. Jesus came into my heart in the Eucharist, Mary held my hand as I walked down memory lane, the Holy Spirit moved in me to forgive and let go of the lingering hurts and regrets. When I drove away from campus yesterday, I was suddenly whole again. I felt complete. Even in the polluted air along the Ohio River, I breathed easier than I had in years. Suddenly, I was back where I left off in my becoming process, almost as if nothing had ever happened to disrupt it. Except that now there was a mysterious, incredible strength inside me that I had not known I could possess. I know that strength comes from God alone. I am certain that even when I was that stubborn patient lying weakly on the floor, oblivious to everything except my own pain, He was mending the pieces with such a gentle hand that I could not feel it.

But I felt it yesterday. I felt it like a warmth all the way through me, a light that I had not seen before, a strength and determination that I had never known. When I pulled into my parents' driveway yesterday, I think I truly came home for the first time. It's good to be back.

You say tomato, I say to-mah-to

The past few weeks have provided me with many opportunities to place my trust in God. These trials made me realize, for one thing, how much I dislike the word 'trust.' It rhymes with 'rust' which to me implies something weak and decaying, two adjectives antonymous to the concept of 'trust.' This may seem petty, but, like all English nerds, I'm all about diction and finding the perfect word. (The thesaurus is perhaps one of my favorite inventions.) So as I prayed last night trying to understand how to 'trust' in my human weakness, I was delighted to hear God whisper mercifully into my heart, "Surrender." He knows me so well.

The word 'surrender' seems so much more appropriate to me. After foolishly trying to win a battle on my own, I raise the little white flag over my heart. In my weakness, I have no choice but to open my hands and offer myself back to God saying, "I am not strong enough to do this alone. Jesus, repair what I have done badly. I thank you for all things." Then the devil's Jolly Roger drowns in the raging sea, and Jesus calms the storm in my soul.

Constant surrender, then, seems to be the only cure for anxiety, worry, and fear. As the priest reminded us in his homily today, Christ showed us the way to surrender and trust while he was on the cross. He cried out from the seemingly hopeless weakness of the human flesh, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Yet then He surrendered Himself, even amid his overwhelming suffering: "Into your hands, I commend my spirit." As in the garden the night before, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass me by....yet not my will, but yours be done!" Even God had to surrender constantly when He humbled Himself to become one of us! It is a comfort to know we are in good company when we surrender our hearts and souls to the will of God.

Free to Live

As I drove around yesterday, I thought about how nice it would be to go visit a friend. I drove past the highway and wondered what it would be like to be able to just take that on-ramp and go, to have the time and money to go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Wouldn't it be nice to be a nomad, a pilgrim soul, travelling wherever the wind carried me, wherever my heart desired? Well, my scattered heart desires to go many places, but the wind seems to have stopped blowing my way. So far, none of my ideas for a new life have been viable, and I am not brave enough to pack my suitcase and step out into the big world alone. Until recently, I felt as if I were stuck in the mud in my hometown. A reality check reminded me that there are worse things.

The reality check came in the form of the death of a former classmate of mine, and the news of a health scare of a good friend. It's strange how much light death sheds on life, especially when death takes someone so young. As I sat with my high school friends at the funeral yesterday, I realized that the casket could have been for any one of us. We never know the day nor the hour when the Lord will call us home. This is not to say that we should constantly be afraid that our time is near, but that we should simply live life to fullest while we have the chance.

Of course, it is so easy to say that this is what we should do, but it's something entirely different to actually do it, especially when we are held back by certain limitations like school, jobs, family responsibilities, or lack of resources. When you see a twenty-three year old put in a box to go underground, you realize that life is short. We should make do with what we have everyday, rather than constantly wish things were different. It is difficult learning how to do this, especially considering the fact that I grew up believing in fairy-tales, believing that if I closed my eyes and clicked my heels together three times, I would wind up where I wanted to be.

Reality check: that only happens in Oz.

In Ohio, you work for what you want. You take on part-time jobs you hate to make enough money to get where you want to be. You take on each day as if you were taking on an army. I learn a little more each day about how to live the life I have, rather than complain that I am not where I want to be. I probably learned more in the last week than I have in the last several months. I took on the task of painting a ceiling, like Michaelangelo (minus the various colors and intricate details, but still...it was my own--plain white--Sistine Chapel). I covered the walls with a "wisp of smoke" tint to compliment the new bedspreads my mom bought. I helped clear farmland by moving large logs, branches, and playing the literal version of pick up sticks. I sat by a fire and made new friends over songs played on banjos under the stars and a full moon. I transplanted beet and collard green sprouts to flats fit for a patchwork greenhouse. I did things I never thought I would do, and I forgot about my worries and my fears. I simply lived.

While I lived, I felt the life springing from the center of my being, the point where Christ lives in my heart. I went to visit Him at the tabernacle in church yesterday and I laid down all of my sorrows and fears, everything that I was worried and anxious about--the girl who died and a friend whose health I feared for. I gave them to Jesus and I said, "I want to trust You, but all of these things are getting in the way. Remind me of Your love." And He did, but it struck me in a new way. Last year, I needed to be reminded that He cares for me deeply, that I am His, first and forever. Now, after all the experiences that have strengthened me and caused me to grow in the last year, God reminded me that we are all His, first and forever. My classmate who passed away, my family and my friends, my coworkers, all of the people who are important to me--all belong to Him. Whether or not they know, and whether or not they care, they are His to give and His to take away. My worries about those I love make no difference, but my prayers provide peace for me and assurance to God that I am placing my trust in Him. My prayers then become a channel of His grace, and I become a channel of His love.

It is difficult to constantly see that what we have here is a gift. It is so easy to get caught up in the daily, routinely nothings, to take everything for granted. But contained in each day is the potential to change a life, to make a difference, to spark a smile. Each person we encounter wants to love and be loved. But so many of us are afraid. So many of us fear taking that risk and making ourselves vulnerable. So many of us hide away for fear of being hurt. So many of us fear our love being rejected. And let's face it--we do get hurt, we are rejected. We are human beings in a human world and our love has limitations. But the Good Lord loves us with an abiding, merciful love--a perfect love. He covers the gaps in our imperfection with His perfection. His love always wins. When our love isn't big enough, His is. It really is. When we accept that, we are free--from worry, fear, anxiety--to truly and simply live.

It's beautiful, really.

The Way the Cookie Crumbled

Thanks to an incredible retreat I attended and the beautiful yellow roses my super awesome roommate surprised me with, I had a great Valentine's day last year (read about my experience in the post "Candy Hearts" from last March). It pretty much transformed my heart. It reminded me that the center and source of all love is not in any guy that might come along, but in the Sacred Heart of Jesus in the Eucharist. He gives His Heart to us at Mass everyday if we are willing and able to accept it. Everyday is Valentine's Day in the Catholic Church, when we are reminded of His incredible Love for us.

Remembering how much love I received last year on this day, I decided to make heart-shaped cookies as little gifts for a few people. This endeavor turned out to be an epic failure in the form of a pile of crumbled cookie with an odd cake-like texture. Even the dark chocolate M&Ms failed to redeem these miserable wafers. But I was able to see in my crumbled mess how utterly imperfect my human love is. My experiences in the last year really showed me that my love is not enough to change a heart. Only when I first embrace the Love that Christ has for me, for the Church, for the world, only when He increases and I decrease, can His love move through me and reach others. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Phil 4:13).

I used to refer to this holiday as Single's Awareness Day, but it seems that this year it is the exact opposite. I am more aware now than ever that I am never alone, nor can I ever truly love anyone on my own. Christ is there waiting for me to accept His Heart, not just today but everyday. If I think for a second that I can do it alone, I'll end up with another pile of crumbled cookie. And honestly, nobody wants to eat that.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Becoming

If you had told me a year ago that I would still be at home seven months after I graduated from college, I would have cried. Well, here I am. And a few days ago when I received the reality check, I admit that the tears came.

I feel as if I am still no closer to figuring out what to do with my life than I was seven months ago, but I know--deep down somewhere--that I am. Though the process is slow and at times painful, I am becoming someone. I am trying to hold onto the good and weed out the bad and the ugly. But the bad and the ugly are not going without putting up a fight. With the grace of God I conquer one obstacle, then find myself faced with another even uglier. A constant battle.

It reminds me of a quote (I think it's a collection of quotes, but they read as one) that a dear friend of mine slipped to me a few years ago when my heart was in turmoil. I think about this quote often when I realize that I have been getting ahead of myself, when I find myself drowning in my weaknesses and failures.

"We are impatient of being on the way to something

And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made

by passing through some stages of instability--

and that may take a very long time...

Ideas mature gradually. Don't try to force them on, as though you could be today what time will make you tomorrow. Only God could say what this new spirit gradually forming within you will be.

Give our Lord the benefit of believing that HIS HAND IS LEADING you surely through the obscurity and the...BECOMING and accept yourself in suspense and incomplete...

Since your activity has to be far-reaching, it must emanate from a heart that has suffered....

We must offer our existence to God, who neither wastes nor spoils, but rather makes use--BETTER than we can ever anticipate--of the struggle in which we are enveloped."

~Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

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)

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.

Put on the Habit of His Love

Working in customer service is always interesting. Sometimes extremely frustrating, but always interesting. There's that rule, "The customer is always right," that must always be followed. It isn't 100% true, but we never let the customer know that. Some customers are difficult without trying to be, and ask questions that seem like common sense to me. They tend to get under my skin, and I just have to shake my head when they leave and say, "I don't understand some people."

So today God decided to humble me when I went looking for a CD. The Love Revolution album was on sale at the local Christian store, so I went to buy it. I went in and didn't see it on the sales rack, so I asked the handsome young man working behind the counter. I told him I was looking for Love Revolution by Nichole Nordeman. He began searching in his database and seemed to have trouble. I made sure he was spelling her name right, but he still couldn't find it. He said, "Could it be Natalie Grant?" And I thought for a moment, then responded, "No. It's definitely Nichole Nordeman." After a few more moments with no luck, I said that I had seen it in the sales ad and could point it out to him. He pulled it out and we flipped through it. I pointed to the picture of the CD, and there it was: Natalie Grant, Love Revolution.

DUH.

I laughed at myself and apologized as a line began to form behind me and he started searching the racks for this CD. He finally found one sitting behind the counter for me and I was able to check out, still apologizing. For two months I have wanted this CD, searching on iTunes and in the stores under Nichole Nordeman. My mistake turned me into one of those customers that tests my patience. I saw and experienced the situation from the other side and realized the importance of being understanding.

We encounter all different kinds of people everyday at work, at the store, at restaurants, at Church, and we never know where people are coming from, or what makes them the way they are. We never know why people make the choices they do, or what they may be experiencing at any given time. It seems that there are two extremes dominating society today: to be so tolerant that nothing stands as truth, or to be so set on one's beliefs that they make no room for human weakness. It is impossible to love as God wants us to when we do not try to understand His people. We always fear what we don't understand, but "perfect love casts out fear" (1 John 4:18). Perfect love requires an effort to be understanding of differences, and of course, we can't achieve perfect love without the assistance of God.

For awhile, there was a person in my life who I just kind of brushed off for no reason, except that she never seemed to go out of her way to show me she cared, so why should I try? I found out the other day that this person was having serious marital problems. When I heard this, my heart immediately softened toward her in compassion. Rather than push her away, I knew there must be something I could do to love her better. I decided to begin by praying for healing in her marriage and by making a greater effort to be open to her. I think that these kinds of decisions of the heart are what allow God to love through us. We have to first be open to allowing His graces to course through us. Of course, there must be a foundation of love for Him to work through. We must first recognize the truth, that God is love, that Christ saves us from our sins, and that we are ALL His, first and forever.

So instead of saying, "People can do whatever they want if it makes them happy, as long as they aren't hurting anyone in the process," or "Well, the Church says this so if they don't obey, they're going to hell," we should hold to the truth we believe and meet people where they are at. Jesus met people where they were at, and loved them for who they were--prostitutes, tax collectors, picky customers, etc. He loved them all, and commanded us to love them for Him. When someone is starving, they will not understand the love of Christ if you simply tell them, "Jesus loves you." But if you give a starving person food, you will show the love of Christ with your actions. As Saint Francis of Assisi said, "Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words."

The Love Revolution begins in the heart. When we truly open our hearts and make a movement of our will to love by willing the good of others, God will be able to work through us, to love through us, to catch souls in our nets. We do not have to let go of our beliefs to do this--look at Mother Teresa. She never preached at the sick and starving people she cared for. She gave them what they needed and she opened herself to sharing in their suffering. If they asked, she explained about her beliefs, but mostly, she loved them through her actions. Begin love by seeking to understand what is different, what is scary. Because what is inconceivable in your own mind is life's harsh reality to another. Make it a habit to listen to others and try to understand them, seeking ways in which you can love them with your actions as well as your words. Open your heart and put on God's love--let His love be your habit in the vocation to LOVE.

Seek Him First

On my sixteenth birthday, my parents gave me a purity ring. It was a gold band with two gold links on either side connected to a larger silver link, in which is set a tiny diamond. My parents explained to me that the larger middle link represents God, and the two smaller links on either side represent me and my future husband. It symbolizes how God must always be at the center, that our hearts should first draw closer to His, and then through Him, closer to each other. Like that Maya Angelou quote: "A woman's heart should be so hidden in Christ that a man should have to seek Him first to find her." I believe that. And I knew that the message my parents gave me with this ring was so much more than telling me I shouldn't have sex before marriage. To me, it represented letting God be in charge of my whole love story.

When I got to college, I soon found that I was the only single girl among my group of friends, which I admit, I complained about. So when a guy showed interest in me, even though I didn't share the interest, some of my friends encouraged me to just "date him and get over it." I love my friends, but what does that even mean? Date him and get over it? Date a guy you don't care about and stop complaining about being single? I didn't want to have to date someone just because I was tired of being single. So I didn't. But it was then that I unknowingly began to play the game of love. I began to flirt and drink and ignore the growing feelings in my heart that maybe this wasn't the best way.

Even though I never actually had a romantic relationship and only ever went on a few dates, I played my heart out by investing my emotions on the illusions at stake. All my friends who had boyfriends would tell me how lucky I was to be single, to get to do whatever I wanted. They seemed to think it was fun to play the game where the goal is to enjoy the illusion without getting hurt. And sometimes I thought I believed them. I thought I enjoyed playing along, pretending that my heart was not invested too deeply in any one person. But when I could pretend no longer, when the truth shouted at me from the cracks in my aching heart, I knew I had lost. I took off the mask I had been wearing and looked in the mirror, beginning the long process of finding myself again.

I still wonder sometimes "what if" I had just dated one of those guys for the sake of dating someone. People definitely tend to look at me funny when I tell them I'm not into the dating thing and I've never kissed anyone. They ask how I expect to find anyone without dating, and they sometimes seem to think that I think I am better than they are. Of course I am no better than anyone else. I just want more. I want more than an illusion, more than a game, more than an "experiment." I want more than to settle for the first thing that comes along. I want more than to sit and wait for someone to grow up and figure out what's really important. I want to be someone.

The whole reason I began this blog was to recommit myself to trusting God in this way, trusting Him with my whole heart, and with my whole love story. I made that commitment almost eight years ago when I put that purity ring on my finger. I am still single, but I am single with a purpose. I want more for myself than flirting and casually dating, and more than sitting around and waiting for my other glass slipper. I want to become the woman God created me to be.

Winter in the Heart

The snow arrived just on time this year. December 1 brought in a lovely white blanket to cover the dying grass and bare tree branches. I was content to sit inside and watch the flakes fall gently on the dead earth, remembering the less than peaceful feelings I had watching the snow fall last December.

It was this time last year that I was cold inside and out. Memories cracked my icy heart, rather than warmed them. It was the most real pain I had ever felt. Though I was getting on with life and slowly healing, I was sad, and a little bitter in the heartache that came from losing a friend. I wanted to get out of Ohio. I wanted to be finished with school so that I could move somewhere warm and make new friends and be constantly showered with sunshine. I was tired of the constantly changing seasons. There's a saying in Ohio that if you don't like the weather, wait two days and it will change. I was tired of change. I wanted a constant warmth, a constant sunshine even in the coldest times. I told my mom how anxious I was to get out of Ohio and she said, "People who live in places without seasons don't live in reality."

I realize the wisdom in her words now. When fall kills off the beauty and warmth we enjoyed in the summer, the winter winds sweep in clean, white snow to purify the ugliness. That way, when spring comes, the life that blooms and the sun that shines are even more appreciated. The same goes for the seasons of the heart. Though a summer love may burn within us, the autumn winds often carry it away. God then covers our hearts with a cold, pure snow, cleansing the wound. From that wound springs new life. Then comes summer, and autumn, and that biting winter wind....

I am still coming to terms with the reality that most things will always be constantly changing, especially in Ohio. But the two things that I know will never change or even waver are God's love and the love of my family. Even though I don't deserve it, and I act like a grinch sometimes (or lately, most of the time!) they will always love me. It's my Advent resolution to let the Light of Christ come warm and melt my heart, and to let the wacky sunshine of my family's love color my life, no matter what season it is.

The Power of the Pen

When I was in junior high, I took part in a writing competition called Power of the Pen. We would be given writing prompts and have forty minutes to construct and compose a narrative. I loved the rush of thoughts that formed in my mind when I read the prompt, the way they tumbled into place in my mind for a few minutes, then sped down to my hand. Before I knew it, words were flowing out of my pen as it scribbled across the page. I learned a great deal about myself as a writer in those competitions. The first year, I wrote mostly really depressing stories (I think I was under the impression that killing off a character made a story good). The second year, however, I began to write stories born out of my beliefs (usually dealing with pro-life themes). These stories tended to receive much higher marks, not because the judges agreed with me, but because I was doing what I was created to do: allowing God to channel His love and light through my pen. When we order our talents to their original intention of giving God glory, they accomplish a much greater good than when we try to use them for our own glory.

All of this stuff going on with Pope and the Vatican being so misrepresented in the media has really sparked a fire in me. For months I have been trying to figure out how best to use my writing to give glory to God. I wrote a letter to our local paper's editor about the misrepresentation of the Church in its recent articles (Here's a great article that appeared the next day.). As soon as I sent the e-mail, I felt a deeper sense of purpose and a greater love for the Church and the people in it. I didn't care if it was published or ignored. I realized that this came from knowing that I had given a piece of myself, I had shared my voice through my pen to defend the Truth from attack (as much as I could in the allowed 200 words, anyway). By writing the words that God has written on my heart, I have found a way to give myself in love--this is the real power of the pen.

You Are More

Tenth Avenue North - You Are More from Provident Label Group on Vimeo.

This is a great song by a great group and I had to share it here.

I attended the Tenth Avenue North concert back in September and wrote a little bit about it, but since then I have been listening to both their albums, Over and Underneath and The Light Meets the Dark, constantly. Their songs contain so much truth, beauty, freedom and love in their powerful lyrics. Many of the songs are prayers in themselves! I especially love that the songs encourage listeners to be honest, honest with themselves and with God. They offer clear reminders that we have already been saved by God's love, and that nothing can satisfy us except God's love. As in "By Your Side," the singer sings from God's perspective: "Why are you looking for love?/Why are you still searching, as if I'm not enough?" He is love. He is enough. This song, "You Are More," reminds us that God's love has made us a new creation. His love for us has already defeated the sin and lies that haunt us. He is the light that meets the darkness of our souls. It is up to us to keep our eyes on His light, to tune out the distractions of the world, and to let Him lead us to love.

Perhaps the most beautiful song ever (and the number one song in my iTunes library), "Beloved," reads like a love letter from Christ:

Love of my life

Look deep in my eyes

There you will find what you need.

Give me your life

The lust and the lies

And the past you're afraid I might see

You've been running away from me.

You're my beloved lover

I'm yours

Death shall not part us.

You're my beloved lover
I'm yours
Death shall not part us
It's you I died for
For better or worse
Forever we'll be
My love it unites us and it binds you to me
It's a mystery.

Love of my life
Look deep in my eyes
There you will find what you need.

I'm the giver of life
I'll clothe you in white
My immaculate bride you will be
Come running home to me.

You've been a mistress, my wife
Chasing lovers that won't satisfy
Won't you let me make you my bride
You will drink of my lips and you'll taste new life.

What greater love is there?

Get Your Love

As I walked down the street in my neighborhood about a week ago, the same street my family has lived on for 18 years, I saw it as if for the first time. The sapphire sky seemed to glitter in between the leaves as they waved crisply in the breeze. The golden autumn sun sent out its warm rays to light the branches, some still covered in green, others golden yellow, fiery red, and burnt orange. The breath of God was all around me, the beauty of the touch of His paintbrush all before me, the gentle strength of His hands beneath my feet. I heard that song from my youth in a faint whispering on the wind, "He's got the whole world in His Hands..." Following the strings of the youthful melody came a song from a more recent era: "I think I made You too small. I never feared You at all...What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion...What do I know of Holy?..."

It was then I felt it, the comfort in the knowledge that He has us in His hands. The whole world. We can look up at the domed sapphire sky as He looks down. We can smile into the sun as He smiles down at us. We can feel His breath on our faces in the wind. We walk with Him and He serenades us with the Spirit of Love He has breathed into all of His creation. It's beautiful really, to think that He spoke the earth into motion, that He breathed life into Adam. The breath of God's Love is the source of all life!

There is nothing and no one greater than our God. When I find that I make Him too small by letting thoughts of myself get in the way of love, or by letting my own pride get in the way of kindness, He finds a way to humble me. I have now made it a habit to take moments throughout the day to glance at the sky and smile up at our loving Creator. It certainly helps me to recognize my littleness in this big world! St. Therese wrote, "Jesus is content with a tender look or a sigh of love." He does not want our mindless recitation of old prayers as much as He wants our love, however we find a way to express this love, as long as it is true and from the heart.

It seems that what we ought to do then is let His love radiate through us, let it fill us to the point of overflowing so that every breath we take and every move we make is for love of Him. It is important then to treat the people around us, even the ones we would normally avoid because of their behavior or their appearance, with the respect and the love we have for God. The same breath of love gives each life the same dignity. Once we recognize this, once we come to God and accept His gift, we must help others see it as well. As my six-year-old sister says, "Get your love." Then breathe it in, breathe it out, and come alive again!

Green is for life.

Nestled on a clearance shelf in the back of the store, it called to me. Shades of green and funky weed things sprouting on the front made it look exactly like the kind of journal I would buy. Pretty leaves mark the bottom of each page--I love that kind of thing. The eco-friendly label also informed that no trees were used to make the journal. Here I must admit that I am something of a Go Green girl. You won't see me waving banners to save the trees (unborn babies are still my priority), but I do believe it is important to have a deep appreciation and respect for all of God's creation. The simple beauties of nature are a constant reminder of God's power and majesty. But these sensibilities and the fact that the journal is my favorite color were not enough to persuade me to buy it.

I confess that I have something of an obsession with journals. There are currently enough empty journals lining a shelf in my room to keep me covered for at least the next three years. There is just so much potential in a blank journal, so much hope and excitement for the words, dreams, secrets, and prayers to come. Writing is a discovery process for me, allowing me to piece together the crazy-mixed up pieces of my mind. Re-reading old journals helps me learn from my mistakes and not make the same ones again. I could go on forever about the joys of journals. This is why I get so excited when I find really "me" journals, especially really "me" journals on clearance....But I didn't need it. I told myself so and was about to put the lovely greenery back on the shelf, but the quote on the front suddenly made so much sense for the journal, for Go Green, for life: "What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have never been discovered." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I thought to myself, I discover by journaling...what are the weeds in my life, the dark spots in the garden of my heart that need the most tending? They are those sins and temptations that I constantly fall into, those people that I have the most trouble loving, those hurts, pains, and regrets that I don't seem to go away. Though these things take the form of life-sucking weeds in my eyes, to God, they are opportunities to work miracles. When I give them to Him in faith, He pulls them out and plants something much more beautiful and life-giving in its place. He makes all things new. There have been so many times when I wrote and wrote about the hideous weeds in my heart. I hurt, I cried, I begged God to take them away. He always did, but it was so slow and so quiet that I didn't even notice until months later when I re-read what I had written. I began to see and discover the virtues that God had given those weeds. He shed light on the tear-filled pages, and in His light, nothing is ugly. He is stronger than murderous weeds, so that in Him, even they can become flowers. Even our greatest mistakes and failures can be transformed by Love into His greatest victories.

I bought the journal with no more hesitation. As I drove home, I saw more clearly the way the tops of the green trees brushed against the brilliant blue sky, the way each tree stood in its unique beauty in the golden sunshine. I thanked God for the beautiful trees, and for the journals they had produced for me to record the words that He writes on my heart. When I got home and pulled out the journal, I thought, What is a flower? A plant whose virtues require rain to bloom so that they may shine in the light of the Son. I laughed and smiled up at God.

It's the little things.

When God Writes Your Love Story

As you may have noticed, I have recently been struggling with boy-craziness/crushes. I blame this on the fact that I am trying to figure out the rest of my life and I had always hoped that a young man would be by my side during all of it. Clearly, that is not God's will for me right now, but I have been trying to take the pen out of His hand. I scribble down my own dreams and say, "See, this would be cute, wouldn't it?" He never seems to agree....

My mom once asked me when I was freaking out about several different guys at once, "Don't you think God already knows who you're going to marry?"

I stopped and realized that yes, God already has someone in mind for me. "Well, yeah."

Mom said bluntly,"Well, then don't you think He wants you to shut up?"

I always think about that when I begin to get boy-crazy or get a crush. But I still can't help but wonder when a boy comes along, "Could this be him?"

A few years ago, my mom handed me a book called, When God Writes Your Love Story. I recall reading the title and telling her, "Yeah, He is writing it, and it's boring," then tossing the book bitterly to the back of my closet. The title caught my eye recently as I cleaned out twenty-three years worth of collected junk from my closet. This time, because of all that I have learned and experienced in the last few years, I was intrigued, excited, giddy: isn't this exactly what the idea behind my blog is? Letting God write the story, and letting Him live in our hearts?

I was excited to begin reading, but I was busy helping one of my best friends prepare for her wedding, which took place this past weekend. As a bridesmaid, I helped fold programs, alphabetize place cards, make her laugh, etc. The day was so full of love and fun that I got caught up in the romance. I formed a few crushes, actually. The next day, we became Facebook friends and moved on with our separate lives, but I could not get them out of my head, and I actually began to lose hope in love because I figured that these would end like every other crush: in nothing. Between constant Facebook checks, I finally began reading the book by married couple Eric and Leslie Ludy.

The book provides a beautiful and perfect depiction of the kind of relationships and romance that God wants for us. God desires us to trust in Him, to hold out for the One He has chosen, to let Him write our love stories. This doesn't mean sitting by idly waiting for Prince Charming to show up with our missing shoe--that's boring. It means actively growing closer to God, letting Him love us, forgive us, and form us according to His will. It means putting God, the Author of romance, back in the center of our lives. Basically, the book said everything that I ever wanted to say in this blog, everything I wanted my thesis to become, everything I want to live. Now I am more consciously aware of the way God has been working in my heart and writing the pages and chapters of my life, ever since I was a silly little first grader, drawing with my crayons, dreaming of my future, and writing down my plans. I want to continue to grow, to love, to be who He created me to be.

More than anything, I do not ever want to lose hope in love again. I have come to see that even when I fall, God always saves me from losing myself in the boy-crazy mindset. And even though no crush ends in a relationship, these souls are added to my list of instrumental people along my journey, and I pray for them daily! I know that I will fall again at some point, but I also know that God is in control. I consciously gave Him the pen to my story about two and a half years ago, and even though I try to sneak the pen away from Him sometimes, He holds on tight. In the meantime, I must learn to seek His will everyday, to love and give, to hold on to hope in love. At times, it will be hard and lonely, but in the end, even if He does not have an earthly romance in store for me, the divine romance in heaven will be gloriously lovely.

Read the book!

The Lonely Life of a Single Grain

"Unless a grain of wheat falls on the ground and dies, it remains but a single grain with no life."

The single grain cannot embrace the Farmer's will. She recognizes His power, but she fears following Him into the field. She fears death. She has her own ideas and dreams for her life--pretty, happy, safe. While she sits with her dreams, she is lonely. She is stuck inside of herself. All that is within her longs to be free, to live. But she holds back, keeping it for herself and using it to fuel her dreams. She knows that she cannot live in her dreams forever, but she sees no escape.

The years go by and she watches her friends begin to follow the farmer, two by two. The Farmer beckons to her, "Come, follow me." The single grain hesitates. She watches her friends pair off as they enter the field. She tells the Farmer about her dreams, that she wants to follow Him but she does not want to go without someone to walk with. He tells her gently, "Walk with Me." She stumbles along the way and He picks her up. She fits securely in the palm of His hand. He tells her of His love, that He desires her to be happy. "I know the plans I have for you," He says. "Plans for good and not for harm, plans to give you a future filled with hope."

"But you said we must first fall on the ground and die," the single grain whispers.

The Farmer nods. "Yes, you will fall. And there will be pain, but the pain will fertilize the soil. From this, I will give you a new life. You will no longer be a single grain, but part of a field of beautiful, golden wheat. I will not abandon you, but will nurture you until you are ready for the harvest."

They reach the field and the Farmer asks her, "Are you ready?" Keeping her eyes on Him, she nods. Rather than drop her, He sets her gently on the ground. Suddenly, she sees all of her dreams in front of her, but she can no longer hold onto them. They slip away from her and are replaced for a time with a great sense of pain and loss. She cries, but the sun dries her face and warms the cold pieces of her heart. The rain cleanses her of her old life as a lonely, single grain. Then one day, she looks around and notices that she is a new creation, part of a larger, golden wheat plant. She is no longer alone. She joins the rest of the wheat field in waving in the breeze, praising the Farmer for keeping His promise as they wait for the harvest.

* * *

Today is the feast day of St. Irenaeus who said, "The glory of God is man fully alive." When we give God our desires and allow Him to work through our weaknesses, His glory is made manifest and we are made more alive. As single grains, we can do nothing, but with God, we can do all things.

Little flowers need rain as much as sunshine.

Crushes are so irritating. These thorns in your side sneak up on you when you least suspect it and there's often nothing you can do to stop thinking about that certain guy. Even in my twenties, I fall back into this vicious cycle of wondering about guys who are practically strangers: "Could this cute, holy guy be the One?" I pray and beg God to take these obnoxious thoughts away. Why do I keep thinking about a guy whose name I don't even know? Seriously. It's ridiculous.

Or is it? I often fall for guys and they distract me, making me lose my focus. But they certainly make me pray more! And looking back, God has used this weakness of mine in huge ways to bring me closer to Him, to teach me about myself, and even to show me His will. From these thorns bloom the most beautiful roses.

One of my household sisters texted me this passage yesterday:

"And to keep me from being too elated by the abundance of revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to harass me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it should leave me; but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:7-10

St. Therese talks about this a lot, about our weaknesses being good in that they bring us closer to God. If we had no weaknesses, we would have no need of Him. But weakness causes us to rely on Him and increases our trust in Him. He uses this trust to perform miracles, to move mountains in the hearts of men. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, crushes, separations, and loneliness; for when I am weak, then I am strong. I admit I still haven't found a way to get rid of silly crushes, but as I think my silly thoughts, I look to God and tell Him I can't do it alone. He usually shines some light on the situation, allowing me a small revelation that teaches me to love better. Eventually I get over it and life goes on, a little bit more joyful than before. I am also a little bit more me than before.

His grace falls like rain to make the little flowers grow.

Love Is A Verb

Two weeks ago, I decided that my addiction to coffee was out of control. I had begun drinking it like water, and I no longer enjoyed it. That and my tight grocery budget no longer had room to accommodate it. Because of these and several other reasons, I quit. I decided that I could offer it up for several prayer intentions. I have never been good at fasting, so I figured this might make up for all the times I failed at it in the past.

For the first few days, I felt okay, though not very lively. At random times during the day, I craved coffee out of boredom, or I felt I needed it even when there was no physical pain. It was like I was saying goodbye to an old friend. It was sad. The third day the headaches began. I attempted to appease the pain with ibuprofen, decaf coffee, and other forms of caffeine. Nothing was quite the same. I was not quite the same.

The days seemed longer. I took more naps. I tried to exercise, but I had little motivation. In fact, I had little motivation to do anything. On top of the lethargy, I missed my friends who had graduated and left me. I found that, while I am a very shy person, I had become more so. I was stuck even further inside of myself, unable to come out of my shell and love as I should. I began to wonder how anyone can survive without coffee. Is it possible? I wondered if being dependent on coffee is all that bad. Certainly if it helps me overcome obstacles like social awkwardness it can't be all that bad... And maybe it's not. I don't know all the health facts. All I know is that for me, I was sick of it, so why should I keep drinking it?

It has now been two weeks since I made my decision. I celebrated today by having a cup (half decaf!). It was pleasant sitting with my old friend. I had missed it. I've been trying to figure out how God wants me to love through my shyness and without this stimulant. The energy from today's celebratory cup of love sent a shock through my veins. It inspired me further to learn how to love without being prompted by a drug. In two weeks, I can have another cup of coffee, but I will no longer be at Franciscan. I need to stop waiting it out and start living it up.

Love is a verb!--that means hugs, not drugs!