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.

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!

It's love, not politics.

This rare occasion of my even mentioning politics is in light of the Pope's recent comments about condoms. I was more than a little confused when I read in media reports that the Pope said "condom use can be justified in some cases," especially when I learned that this "justification" was made in the case of male prostitutes. Desiring to learn the truth behind these reports, I sought the Pope's exact words and immediately understood when I read:

" There may be a basis in the case of some individuals, as perhaps when a male prostitute uses a condom, where this can be a first step in the direction of a moralization, a first assumption of responsibility on the way toward recovering an awareness that not everything is allowed and that one cannot do whatever one wants. But it is not really the way to deal with the evil of HIV infection. That can really lie only in a humanization of sexuality."

To interpret this quote as saying that "condom use can be justified" would first require one to assume that male prostitution is justified. Anyone who had even the slightest understanding of the Church's teachings would recognize that prostitution is never justified. And yet, the media's irresponsible misreporting of this statement caused the people of the world to wonder with bated breath, "Did hell freeze over? Is the Church finally changing her position to conform with society?" Alas, the flames continue to lick at our feet.

In a shocking turn of events, the media wrongly presented not only one man's words, but also the entire foundation of faith upon which the Catholic Church was built. Let me just let all the moral relativists out there in on a little secret: TRUTH EXISTS AND IT NEVER CHANGES.

What Pope Benedict stated actually has nothing to do with justifying condom use. His comment merely commends (the mindset, NOT the means) that the the use of condoms by male prostitutes suggests a positive attempt to protect the dignity of human life by preventing the spread of AIDS, but it is not the best way. THIS JUST IN: Not having sex with strangers also helps prevent the spread of AIDS.

I admit that I find it humorous when the media makes such a huge deal about the Pope's statements. If they disagree so strongly with what he says, why don't they just ignore him...? They seem to forget that the Church is NOT a political machine that seeks to destroy our Western society's "values." Rather, it is a universal body founded in truth and love, seeking the transformation of human hearts in order to bring about peace and allow each individual to live life to the fullest with his or her dignity intact.

There is so much I would like to say about all this, but I want to keep this a simple clarification and friendly reminder to the world that the Church stands for love and truth, not a flip-flopping political agenda. For those who are with me, I encourage you to take a stand and join me in support of our Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, our fearless leader, the German Shepherd.

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!

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Girls' Night.

There was a time in my life when every night was a girls' night for me. My friends and I would order too much pizza and watch Breakfast at Tiffany's or 13 Going On 30. They would discuss their relationships, and each be texting their boyfriends at some point during the night; I would glance at my blank phone before shoveling more pizza in my face. Those were the days when all I wanted was a boyfriend. Not just because I was sick of being the third wheel, or the fifth wheel, or the seventh wheel. No, what I really wanted was an incentive to stop eating so much pizza, a face to look forward to seeing everyday (one that would also be happy to see me), an escape from the endless nights of all girls, an "In a Relationship With: [insert name here]" to replace the "Single" status on Facebook. But mostly, security--the promise of the future, hope that I would not end up alone.

Praise God those days are gone. Yes, most nights end up being girls' nights. But these are the kind that make me feel good to be a woman, the kind with glasses of wine and a classic Jane Austen story in BBC form. These provoke conversations and reflections on life and love, arguments over who gets Mr. Knightley and who gets Mr. Darcy, and jokes about who will get stuck with old Mr. Weston. And these conversations and reflections later lead my heart to God when I tell Him, "I know that you have something beautiful for me. I know that it is more uniquely beautiful to me than anything Jane Austen has ever written, because while she knows what a woman's heart longs for, only You know what will satisfy it." He pulls me closer in His arms and promises not to let go.

And praise God for the women in my life: the mother, sisters, roommates, friends, cousins, aunts, grandmothers, and household that He has blessed me with have been beautiful examples of womanhood to me. I value their presence in my life more now than ever and do not know what I would do without them. Soon enough God will send my own Mr. Knightley and I will have the rest of my life with him, wishing I could just have one more night with my girls. For now, I will treasure these nights and these moments with the beautiful women God has put in my path, and let Him draw me closer to Him.