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!

"This was my heaven."

Happy feast of Our Lady of Lourdes!

When I spent my semester in Austria, I had the opportunity to serve in the baths at Lourdes for a week long mission trip. It was a huge leap of faith for me, and a pretty last minute decision--a seat with my name on it flew to Greece with most of my friends, so at least I can say 97 euros of me went to Greece, but my heart and soul were in Lourdes, France. And my heart and soul were purchased at a much higher price than 97 euros!

When I first walked across the bridge into the center of Lourdes, I felt that I was walking into heaven. A mass of people was moving toward the grotto with candles held high as they sang "Ave Maria." The statue of Our Lady in the grotto was lit with a soft white-gold light and a tower of candles flickered at her feet. It was breathtakingly beautiful, holy, sacred. I understood what Bernadette had meant when she said of the grotto, "This was my heaven."

Every night there is this candlelit rosary procession which ends with Mass in the grotto. Every hour of the day, the bells in the basilica chime the tune of "Ave Maria." I admit that I had decided to go on that trip due to a simple prompting in my heart. I had never had much of a devotion to Our Lady. But in that week, I realized that she had called me there to serve as her handmaid, to be a light for the sick and the weary pilgrims who sought her help. I learned so much about Our Lady through the prayers, the service, the people. As she told Bernadette, she is the Immaculate Conception, so she never quite struggled with sin the way we do, but she wants to help bring us closer to her Son. I believe that she took my hand that week and she hasn't let go since.

So whether or not you are tight with Our Lady, give her a little shout-out today. She'll work within your heart and make it a heaven for her Son to dwell in. Which is pretty awesome if you ask me.

Prayer to Our Lady of Lourdes

O ever-Immaculate Virgin, Mother of Mercy,

health of the sick, refuge of sinners,

comforter of the afflicted,

you know my wants, my troubles, my sufferings;

look with mercy on me.

By appearing in the Grotto of Lourdes,

you were pleased to make it a privileged sanctuary,

whence you dispense your favors;

and already many sufferers have obtained

the cure of their infirmities, both spiritual and corporal.

I come, therefore, with complete confidence

to implore your maternal intercession.

Obtain, O loving Mother, the grant of my requests.

Through gratitude for your favors,

I will endeavor to imitate your virtues,

that I may one day share your glory. Amen.

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)

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.