Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

I'm back.

And I don't think I've ever been so tired in my life. I can't think anymore, I can't even pray anymore. I have absoutely nothing LEFT.

A week ago Wednesday a friend got up early to make sure I was at the airport on time (I think I got there at 6 am) and after getting into 3 wrong lines in a very unexpectedly crowded airport before finally finding the right one, (the right line, I mean) I somehow managed to get my boarding pass, get my bags tagged, and somehow managed to get through security.

Our plan arrived in Connecticut early, so I had my baggage and was arranging it a bit more to my liking when Sister arrived to bring me to the convent, about an hour away. Once there, I was taken to one of the parlors where one of the foundresses of the community met me, as did the Sisters I know. And, just like in Mexico, the first thing they did was feed me!

The General Superior was not available to meet me, but apparently said that she would do so later. As it was, I met her quite impromptu after evening prayer and on my last day there sat down in the parlor with her for almost an hour. But that first afternoon and evening are a bit of a blur to me. Sr. J. gave me the grand tour of the convent, chapel, and grounds, and at some point we brought my baggage upstairs. I met the Novice Director and the Sister I was assigned to for the week, changed into a skirt for chapel, and....was immediately plunged into religious life.

I was at the convent for a week, nearly, then on Wednesday morning, Sr. J. drove me to the train station, where I actually saw the Atlantic for the first time in my life. The ride to New Jersey was about 3 hours, the number of hours being 3, no more, no less.

Never mind the fact I was in New York for the first time, too, and what was I subject to? A grand tour of the underground tunnels, where we waited for about 30 minutes. No doubt because probably not even the most seasoned of travelers can weave their way through Penn Station in less time.

Finally we headed for Newark. When checking my ticket as she passed through, the agent happened to comment, "Oh, that's next". (I must have looked very obviously confused!)

Dang. You can take a girl out of the midwest but you can't take the small town out of her no matter how long she's lived in an urban setting!

Anyway, thank God she said something because there was NO announcement! About five minutes after we left New York, the train stopped again, seemingly randomly. I saw no signage, but decided that since the train was stopping, by logic and geography it MUST be Newark. So I wrestled my luggage through the narrow passage, made sure (twice!) I was disembarking in the correct part of the world, and got off the train. Still saw nothing indicating where I was. There was a sign pointing to the "Station", but the only staircases came up. Whaaa..?

Well, there was a religious sister also trying to find the mysterious place called the "Station" and unable to find any solid directions. We happened to converge at the same point. So we decided to be lost together because that was easier than wandering around all by ourselves.

When we found our way down the stairway into an area that looked much more like an urban mall than it did a train station, I learned that she was a Franciscan Sister of the Martyr St. George, and was out there as one of the people doing Apostolic Visitations.

All I could say was, "God bless you!"

We made our way outside and she had seen the vehicle I was looking for, although it had passed by. It was a bit before I found Dominican Sr. M., so I stood out on the curb in Newark NJ, very conscious of the fact that I looked like a midwestern girl fresh off the farm. Really not a good thing in a city like Newark NJ.

I had only that afternoon and yesterday with the Dominicans, but lots of homework has been given to me! This morning Sr. M. dropped me off at the airport that sent off ill fated United 93 in 2001, but in spite of that I still made it home.

So here I sit, my dog curled up on the rug next to me, my laundry in piles waiting to be done...

Can I have a vacation to recover from the last 10 days of my life?

For those who want to know all the hairy details...don't hold your breath. This has been a very intense couple of weeks, I have a lot to think and pray about, and the vast majority will never be published on the blog. All I intend to give is incidental details. The rest remains between the Lord and myself...and those few people in my life in the category that gives them the privilege of knowing a bit more.

Right now, I'm just happy to be back home. Please don't ask me any questions or offer any advice or try to surmise what's going on. Even though much of my blog is, in a sense, an "open book", there is much I keep to myself. Especially now it's important that I maintain a certain silence; not because I've been told to do so, but because I want to, I need to, and it's proper.

There will be more posts on my practical experience, but...not tonight.

Thank you all for your prayers and I humbly ask that you continue to pray for me. You were all also in my prayers in all the hours I spent in the chapel in the last ten days.

May God reward you.

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Curtain!

This will be my last post for awhile.

Tomorrow morning I'll be getting up around 3:30 am so that I can stumble downstairs and have some coffee while prying my eyes open with some heavy machinery.

A friend is picking me up around 5:30 to go to the airport, and a big silver bird is going to carry me out to the East coast for ten days of intense discernment.

Yes, I'm nervous. That hit me tonight when most of my prep was done.

My dog is safely nestled in at another friend's house, and to my eyes she looked pretty happy with her new hobby of herding children around the kitchen and living room. I just hope she behaves herself! And I also hope the baby doesn't find it necessary to share all of his crackers with her. As it is she's apparently a huge fan of said baby, evidenced by her maternal and constant washing of his face. Which he didn't seem to mind too much!

So, all is well. I'll triple-check the suitcase tomorrow in hopes I have what I need but not more than I need (because lugging junk around is just no fun!).

Have a wonderful couple of weeks everyone! Thanks for your prayers, please keep praying for me, and I will remember your own intentions as well!

Countdown

When I started this blog, I cited my vocational discernment and invited you along for the journey.

Then I fell away and decided I wasn't "Called", but still wrote about the topic and what I had learned.

My friends, Discernment is Hell. It's awful. It's painful and tumultous and uncertain and polemical. It's one of the WORST experiences you can ever have in this life, but the ends are amazing.

And it continues. I wish I could say this is a summary and I'm at the end, but truly, I know that this is where it really begins.

Maybe it's easier for those who are just out of high school or college and haven't purchased a "real life". As it is, my life owns me because I've done everything the "American Dream" has told me to do and all it has done has separated me from God and His Call.

I own a house and a dog and once I thought a guy loved me enough to marry me. In reality all I've obtained is debt I can't control, a house worth less than nothing, and a broken heart not worth the sound of even random beats.

At least I got a good dog out of the deal.

And what I know is that this isn't why God called me into existence.

For the last few years, I've struggled, very publicly, with my vocational discernment, even denying it for a time. I've denied it to friends and acquaintances, but had to finally acknowledge that it wasn't over. God wouldn't give up on me. It never mattered to Him that everyone else had...He wasn't to be dissuaded.

Nor would the communities that have been in contact with me. The Sisters I go to visit confronted me very directly, upon our meeting, with the question, "Are you discerning?"

My answer that November was "I don't know!"

That ambivalence lead to an invitation...and then another. And constant invitations to visit the Motherhouse.

I knew, always, that I wanted to follow Christ. I am in love with Him.

Yes, others recognized that as well, but I needed very direct contact to do something with that love.

So it is, finally, that I am headed out to visit the Motherhouse of that very community. I'll spend a week or so there, living the life of a Sister, which is amazing to me. All I've ever had is a small family, one that has been shattered and is only now finally healing. And so God brings me into another family of Sisters, and through that incorporation, I know my own will never be left.

For over a week, I'll be immersed in prayer, work, Mass, and family...one to which I might be given. They are discerning me even as I am discerning them. One community is active, one cloistered. Could either be my Home?

Only God knows. Only He Calls.

All I am doing is trying to respond and see where this leads....

(to be continued.....)

The Call and Friendship

A couple weeks ago, I called a friend to RSVP to her birthday party, as I'd be celebrating my own belated party with my own family that same weekend. In that voicemail I said I had my own news and looked forward to seeing them soon.

A couple days ago when I entered the chapel for Daily Mass, there was my now-a-year-older friend waiting in the Confession line. She beckoned me to her and asked for my news.

Kneeling before her, I quickly and quietly told her of my immediate vocational discernment retreat, who I was visiting and why. She hugged me joyfully, fiercely and kissed my cheek, whispering into my ear, "I so want the best for you!"

I hugged her back, grateful, for she is one who told me a couple years ago that, when I had revealed I didn't think I was Called, neither did they. But yesterday, they asked me to share my "news". I did so, for a few years ago they'd been the first to hear of it...and the first to forget and disregard it.

All of them had agreed that, most definitely, I had not been Called to religious life but it was important for me to go and find out. How ironic.

One of them, though, today, said quietly, "So the Call came back, huh?"

I told her, "The Call never really went away."

Quietly, smiling, she said, "I know."

Why is it our friends know so much...but say so little?

They all understand that the visit for the next couple weeks isn't definitive and I might well come back with an understanding that this is not where God is calling me.

A part of me thinks that they expect me to come back having learned the latter. Definitively.

It is a blessing to have such friends, though. They don't expect much of this visit, they are happy I'm going, and when it comes down to it, they will my happiness and union with God. Is there anything greater to be desired? I know without a doubt that whatever happens, they are there and I love them for it.

Another Friend Has News

I'm not the only one hearing the whisper and direct touch of Our Lord.

One of my friends let her husband give their news...she is pregnant and due in February.

This pregnancy is of special concern, for a few years ago she miscarried. My friend has a delicate medical condition that can be fatal and often finds herself at the hospital for treatment. Any pregnancy, then, is going to be a risk for her, both for the baby and for her. Please keep my friend in your prayers and her unborn child. It was hard enough for her to lose one, and she never had the chance to publicly announce that child before the dear one was lost.

Please, God, let her carry this one to term, keep her health through and beyond this pregnancy!

I ask the prayers of all of you to help my friend bring this beloved child through birth and into the world!

Welcome Father GJ!

It's about time, but FINALLY one of our own local priests has started a blog!

Go welcome FatherGJ (aka Father Nels Gjendahl) to the blogging world!

I'm actually insanely jealous of him because he's in Mexico right now. Unfortunately he's not in Puebla where I spent most of my time, but he is talking about the places and experiences and basically all sorts of things I miss. *sigh*

Mantilla twitch to my dear friend-in-real-life, Cathy of Alex. :-)

Independence

This evening I was watching a movie about a young woman with a protective father, and how her feminism, by the end of the movie was softened, granting her not less, but more independence. This one tempered by a greater wisdom, one gained through a greater understanding of love.

Suddenly I was struck as I considered my own history. How I had to be "independent", and therefore, a "feminist" long before it was time. How my own ventures in adulthood through a few careers were, in a sense, seeking what I lacked. Not only was I seeking God, but I was trying to become what I didn't have.

I don't really know how to say this, and yet, it's so true, that perhaps all I can do is be blunt.

It has to be said. Please bear with me as I try to find the words.

The Psalms Speak God's Heart

When I pray the words of the psalms in the Liturgy of the Hours speaking of the "precious daughter", almost always, I tear up, at least a little. If not that, then I at least pay closer attention to what is being said. Trying to find the meaning, to understand it, and even to identify with it.

When I consider great Biblical women, cherished by their fathers, and Mary, held so close to her own family and then given into St. Joseph's protection, well, I can't really understand that from a personal perspective. I have a "romantic" sense of it, knowing it was real, but it seems like a fairy-tale to me. It's never been my experience, so even praying these psalms is a scary act of trust.

Never in my life have I EVER felt "protected". I've never dwelt in the security that comes from knowing there is someone to defend me.

I've never been defended.

In The Princess Bride, the Dread Pirate Roberts quips to Inigo, "You have an overdeveloped sense of vengeance."

I'm not interested in vengeance. I've no need.

I have an overdeveloped sense of defense.

Everything I've done as an adult is about...defense. Defending the less fortunate. Defending the law and seeking justice. Defending the powerless. Defending those whose lives have been in danger. Defending the Church, defending our Faith. Defending myself from those very same threats.

It's as though, at some point in my teenage years I went into full survival mode and I've never found the occasion to come out of it.

Even now, living alone as a single woman, I'm very conscious of my safety. I chose a German Shepherd partially for defense, partially because I've always loved Shepherds. I still have my guns and consider my training. I'm still willing to shoot first and ask questions later if someone breaks into my home.

If there is no one to defend my honor, even honor that has already been lost, then I will do it myself. I have no choice. There is no one else.

If I called for help, all I would hear is crickets, if even those.

But I weary of this state of vigilance. For once, I want to be able to relax and know that someone else cares, someone else is there to defend me, and...dare I say it? I want to finally know that I am that cherished daughter worthy of defense.

Perhaps this has been so much of my struggle in my discernment. Even as God invites and says, "All that I have is yours" I have a hard time believing it.

Even as He welcomes me home from the battlefield, I flee from His care, not trusting, never having been given a reason to trust.

God throws open the doors, He kills the fattened calf, He holds out jeweled rainments, and still I stand ready to flee, not believing any of this could be for me. I don't want to be a daughter for a day. I want to be a daughter for life. I want to be that cherished daughter.

And yet I fear that if I step through that door, I'll find that it was never what I wanted or who I was meant to be. I fear that I'm sentenced to a life on this battlefied without backup, skulking in the shadows so as not to be noticed, staving off the attacks because there is no one else to do it for me.

Can I ever let go of my vigilance? Can I ever stop being on the defensive?

Can I ever really, truly believe...and live...the reality that abandonment to God is where I'll find true freedom and protection?

Can I ever really believe those words Our Lord whispers in the silence and through the psalms, that they aren't speaking to history, but through it...to me?

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Smithereens

GOD BLESS AMERICA!

In honor of the 4th of July, I ask you, dear readers, that if you are going to be playing with fireworks, to take stock of your appendages and realize how much they are a part of you. Make sure you still have them at the end of the day!

If you have not, take some time to pray for our country. We'd be unrecognizable to the vision of our founding fathers, but I guess that's what happens when we place our faith in men and government for our salvation instead of looking to God. Let us therefore remember to look to God in all things for it is only through His grace that our country is so great.

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Pieces of Shrapnel

This has been my first week on summer hours at work, so I've taken the time to have a bit of fun and focus on my upcoming trip.

On Wednesday, my dog and I headed down to my brother's house. He came home from work early that day and decided to take an afternoon nap. His girlfriend and I left the dog to gaze out the patio window while we gallavanted down the street to a local fancy-schmancy restaurant for vino and appetizers.

We decided that it was a day to "misbehave". Our idea of "misbehavior" of course was to go to a fancy restaurant without being dressed for it! When we arrived, we waited for the fancy group in front of us who wore money-scented perfume to be seated in the lower dining area. When the hostess came back for us she asked us if we wanted to be seated there or "in the lounge"? We conferred briefly, and in that pause, the hostess, getting worried, explained, "Oh, well, actually there aren't any tables left in the dining area but you can feel free to be seated anywhere in the lounge..."

(hint hint, push push, shove shove!)

So it was, we were quite directly dissed and banished to "the lounge"! That has NEVER happened to me before! We didn't look THAT bad!

But we remained, we ordered a bottle of good Sauvignon Blanc and a cheese & crustini platter which was absolutely divine. Our server was incredible and so I must say, it was her gracious and personal service that has stayed my hand from giving the restaurant a scathing public review on a dining website.

But alas, we finished our vino and continued down the street to get more appetizers at a wonderful Sushi place that advertised Happy Hour from 3-6 pm. As it turned out, they didn't actually open until 4, so we walked a little further to a bar and grill, nursed a glass of wine and lots of water for an hour or so, then returned for sushi appetizers and another thing on their happy hour menu. Again...divine!

My brother joined us during that time but had to leave for an errand so we walked back to his house, where he was happily preparing a chicken for the grill. It was a wonderful evening of good food and good company and nice to have such a day of "misbehavior".

My goodness, when did I get so old that all of the above is "misbehaving"?

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Trippin'

I've also been preparing for my upcoming "Great Monastic Adventure". There have been things I've been needing to buy and have actually found some of them. Although I can't find any good shirts to layer over all the low-cut tight-fitting tops. Seriously, almost everything I find at the store is made for someone who either wants to look bustier than she is or reveal completely what is there!

I'm going to visit a CONVENT people, how in the WORLD would revealing cleavage be proper???

Seriously I noticed this problem before but now even more so, knowing where I'm headed. So I went to Sears and found a great guy's shirt. That does it. From now on I'm shopping in the men's section. Better quality stuff that doesn't show anything off!

So I still have a short list of needed items I can pick up from Target or somewhere.

On the food end of things, in looking at what to eat for the next few days, I've realized I don't want to eat anything that is going to get smelly in summer heat and hang out in my trashcan for the next few weeks. Our trash pickup is on Wednesday, and I can't leave that can out for 2 weeks without being fined by the association. So that means it will remain safely in my garage while I fly away. I'd rather not have my neighbors on either side of me asking "What died?".

If there is anything important to dispose of, hopefully they will allow me to add mine to their containers this week. I have generally good neighbors.

So, there it is. Not a very insightful post, but the reality of planning for a trip. And still so much to do before I go!

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Anyway, have a Happy July 4th! Be safe! And pray for our country!

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Cool Light Reflection

A couple weeks ago, I had just gotten up and was feeling very stressed over all the things that were happening. Work, my upcoming "Great Monastic Adventure", etc.

My drapes were still closed as the sun was coming in and I wanted to keep the house as cool as possible.

I think that's also the morning I received an email reply or at least was reviewing it, from one of the communities I wanted to visit. I remember a sudden sense of being overwhelmed and I prayed, "Blessed Mother, what should I do?"

I stood up, turned to go into the kitchen and get my coffee, and caught sight of a bright glare of sunlight that had found its way through the drape.

To my eye at the time, it looked like an angel, and indeed, I know my Guardian Angel is always present. The photos make me think of several versions of Our Lady, though. Our Lady of Grace, Our Mother of Perpetual Help, Mary Queen of Heaven, Queen of the Angels... all of course, are the same person....our dear Blessed Mother.

Because the light was so cool, I grabbed my cheapo disposible camera and thought it couldn't hurt to try to capture the image, although I sincerely thought that the flash would completely destroy it. So I covered it as best I could with my fingers and snapped a few shots. I think one of the two images is actually with full flash, which is amazing, and I think the other is without, with me covering it (as it's automatic), so a little got through.

I've seen the light come through and hit that corner a few times, but it's never before caught my attention like it did on that day. I love how God can use the most mundane things to remind us that He is present and hears our prayers.

I also love it when photos we think don't have a chance of turning out...do!

I believe it was St. Therese of Lisieux who said, "Always take comfort from knowing you are in the presence of the angels."

Indeed.

The Importance of Celibacy in the Priesthood

**Long Post Alert! This is a paper I wrote for Ecclesiology using, per our prof's preference, sources limited to classroom texts. It is by no means an exhaustive article, but I do hope it assists you in understanding, truly, why the discipline of celibacy is so important. I have marked the endnotes which give greater context to the quotes and info summarized. Further, I've "blogified" the references so please don't use the format as an example of proper end note formatting! ***

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The importance of the Priesthood of Jesus Christ cannot be denied by the faithful. Yet today, the ministerial Priesthood is under attack from every direction; there are those who don’t understand the power given through ordination, there are those who think it’s possible to ordain women, and many who believe the discipline of celibacy should come to an end. Clearly, the priesthood in general is not understood by many, nor is the discipline and charism of celibacy. We will look at the importance of the Priesthood in several contexts, including (but not limited to) their relationship to the Sacraments, the indelible character belonging to men who are called to stand in persona Christi, and how the nobility of celibacy gives greater freedom to those men to be more perfectly conformed to Jesus Christ in service to His Church.

Perhaps the first question to address is this: who are priests called to be? The Priesthood is not a career, but a vocation. The Acts of the Apostles 6:3-6 (1) reveals to us the importance of Ordination, for the authority passed on to those who are called is expressed very specifically through the Apostles; or, today, through the Successors of the Apostles, the Bishops. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, in Called to Communion, refuted the modernist notion that the priesthood is about pop-psychology’s advancement of “self-realization”, or that it is another method of employment in which one can develop one’s own talents and gifts. Rather, he goes right to the heart of the matter and explains that the priesthood calls men to die to themselves in order that Christ may live in and through them. Holy Orders is a Sacrament which sends the men on a mission to give what does not otherwise belong to them, to bear something that is committed to their charge. (2) It is an awesome responsibility, requiring not ambition, but selflessness.

Yet, what is the purpose of this precious mission? “Through Holy Orders men are set aside and consecrated to God, to offer the Sacrifice of the Eucharistic Victim, to nourish the flock of the faithful with the Bread of Angels and the food of doctrine…” (3) The purpose of the Priesthood is to stand in the person of Christ so that through his mortal fingers, Christ may come Sacramentally to His People. Through Holy Orders, those called by God to the priesthood receive the power over Christ’s own body, to consecrate the bread and wine, changing them into the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ. In that moment, it is not the priest who does anything; it is Jesus Christ. The priest becomes an instrument of God, as it were, disappearing so that Christ can be made present. It belongs specifically to the nature of the priesthood to lay down his own life so that Jesus might live through him, may be made present through him, and nowhere is this reality more profound than at the consecration where he states, “This is my Body; this is my Blood.”

The grace of salvation, which comes to us through the Sacraments, can only ordinarily be made present to the world through the ministerial priesthood. It is for this primary purpose they are called and consecrated. It is for the life not only of the Church, but of the whole world, that these men are called to stand and serve in the person of Christ. All that he does is ordered towards the salvation of souls, and the unity of the Mystical Body, the Church. It is through the Sacraments that all are called into this body, and through the Sacrament of Penance, the laity and priesthood alike are purified and prepared to receive the greatest of the Sacraments, the saving Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist. (4)

The priesthood is a sign of contradiction to the world, for it is a visible mark of the folly and the glory of the Cross. We see this especially in the vow of celibacy, for this is a charism the world rejects and outright attacks. Yet in looking at the priesthood with an understanding of who and what these men are called to be, celibacy is a considerable factor in how they can be most perfectly conformed to Christ and most perfectly lead the people through the Cross of Christ and into the Resurrection.

It is the grace of celibacy that allows the priest to enter into the selflessness that especially conforms him to Jesus Christ. Celibacy, in fact, is a sign that the love of God overcomes all.

Yet, what is this motivation to renounce all, especially marriage and children, for the sake of the Kingdom? In a world such as ours, what causes men to be so willing to give up so much? Charles Cardinal Journet observes in Theology of the Church, “Only the love that moves one to renounce all can, in the Church, sustain that love which makes an instrument of all.” (5) Those who, through marriage or other more temporal states in life must by necessity be engaged in the use of earthly things are hindered, in some ways, of achieving the ability to be focused primarily on the needs of the Church. They are, by necessity, divided. In being willing to give everything to Christ’s Church, the priest is renouncing something worldly in order to be free to allow grace to sustain him and make him completely into an instrument of God.

In returning briefly to the discussion of the purpose of the priesthood, the role of the priest is to devote himself to sanctifying activities, yet to exist with and suffer with the people, allowing them to largely handle the temporal concerns of the world. It is his role to instruct, to preach, to lead, to remain present in all they do, but always directing his flock towards the greater goal, and providing the spiritual resources to aid them both spiritually and in their temporal works so that they will continue to grow in sanctity. Celibacy, then, is liberating. It is a liberty gained from the renunciation of the activities of marriage for the sake of the Church, yet this renunciation isn’t only celibacy, but something more. It enters into poverty of spirit, of poverty of self, a self-emptying which allows him the freedom to become an alter Christus; another Christ.

It is this very poverty which makes him an instrument of God. “What passes to the world through it is not the poverty of the minister but the riches of Christ.” (6) Herein we see the folly and the glory of the Cross; for the priest is a sign of contradiction. In a world of hedonism, he has given up everything the world claims will make them happy, and therein, not only does he find true wealth, but he gives that wealth to his flock. A life of religious servitude, as in the priesthood, should be free him as much as possible from all the concerns of a material life. He is placed into a position to give what he does not himself possess, to enable him to do what he cannot do in and of himself. (7) It entails a dependence upon God, upon spiritual realities, preferring those to temporal means. And therein, the priest finds the Cross, he is conformed to the Cross, bearing out body and soul the scourge of both the folly and glory of the Cross as he is liberated to become more conformed to Christ in whose place he serves.

Celibacy is a higher calling, a more noble calling, and, one could argue in this context, a necessary component of the priesthood. It is a more perfect way to live, ordered to and justified through service for the general good of the Church. There is more perfection in happiness than in the married state, for those who are celibate are free to focus more completely on sanctifying work, while those who are married must, by necessity, be concerned for the cares of his family. (8) How can a priest function so divided? How can he fully empty himself in order to live for Christ and His Church as a whole if he must also be especially devoted to a wife and children? How can he be concerned with the affairs of God if he is constantly halted by the roadblocks of the world?

Virginity and Celibacy makes the body and soul more similar to God, conforming one more perfectly to Christ. It is more akin to the angelic state. Matthew 19:10-12 addresses the necessity of the celibate life for the sake of the kingdom, (9) and in 1 Corinthians 7:25-26, Paul expounds on the fact that those who remain celibate also enjoy a freedom not available to those who are bound by marriage. (10) Indeed, the vow of celibacy is also binding, as much as is marriage, but within those bonds, the priest is granted the ability to be more perfectly conformed to Christ in order to better lay down his life for His Church.

In considering the nature and purpose of the priesthood, in considering the character that defines their mission, and the sacrifice of the one in whose place they are called to serve, clearly we must also recognize the necessary freedom of response to that intimate call. It is not an easy life; it is one of sacrifice, of selflessness, and only those who are willing to give everything so that Christ might live through them can receive this life. The consideration of celibacy is an important factor for it seems that only through this charism can a man freely and fully give of himself, and truly die in order that the Church might have life through the gift of salvation.

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FOOTNOTES:

1. Acts 6: 3-6 : “Therefore, brethren, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this duty. But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word. And what they said pleased the whole multitude, and they shoes Stephen, a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit, and Philip, and Prochorus, and Nicanor, and Timon and Parmenas and Nicolaus, a proselyte of Antioch. These they set before the apostles, and they prayed and laid their hands upon them.”

2. Called to Communion, Ratzinger, p 115: “This is precisely what we mean when we call the ordination of priests a sacrament: ordination is not about the development of one’s own powers and gifts. It is not the appointment of a man as a functionary because he is especially good at it, or because it suits him, or simply because it strikes him as a good way to earn his bread; it is nota question of a job in which someone secures his own livelihood by his own abilities, perhaps in order to rise later to something better.”

3. Mystici Corporis Christi, 20

4. Charles Cardinal Journet, Theology of the Church p. 166: “There will be all throughout history…men incorporated in Christ the Priest, participating in the spiritual unction of his sovereign priesthood, drawn in the wake of his divine liturgy. The cultic mediation of the Head is transmitted to and diffused throughout the entire Body….These latter must now work through him, with him, and in him for the salvation of the world…The Church will exist in her fullness only where the priesthood of Christ - through Christian worship – continues to be exercised.”

5. Journet, p. 270

6. Journet, p 114

7. Called to Communion, p115: “Sacrament means: I give what I myself cannot give; I do something that is not my work; I am on a mission nand have become the bearer of that which another has committed to my charge.”

8. Journet, p. 264 “All things being equal, it is not the state of marriage that profits the Church the most. There is more perfection and happiness, as she herself declares it, in remaining keeping celibate than in living in the married state.”

9. Mt 19: 10-12: “The disciples said to him, ‘If such is the case of a man with his wife, it is not expedient to marry.’ But he said to them, ‘Not all men can receive this precept, but only those to whom it is given. For there are eunuchs who have been so from birth, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by men, and there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. He who is able to receive this, let him receive it.’”

10. 1 Cor 7:25-26 : “Now concerning the unmarried, I have no command of the Lord, but I give my opinion as one who by the Lord’s mercy is trustworthy. I think that in view of the impending distress it is well for a person to remain as he is. “

How Long Must I Wait?

Love is so hard to comprehend. I don't understand it it all.

Yes, I've written about it theologically, and I believe that God's love is personal, but for some reason, I can't internalize the depth and witdth and breadth of Our Lord's love.

Growing up, I heard over and over how God the Father loves us, how the Holy Spirit loves us, and how Jesus loves us. We sang about it in songs. Yet, the words and chintzy tunes weren't enough. They revealed...nothing. God always seemed in some sense, impersonal and aloof. Certainly I agreed that His Sacrifice on the Cross was personal, but in my mind, it was personal to us collectively and He didn't really know me. He was like a celebrity, one who might be very kind to me if he met me, but would recognize me no more than would, say, David Hasselhoff. I was just one of millions saying, "I love you Jesus!"

Even as an adult, it's hard to grasp such deep, personal, and truly passionate love. Even though I have the theology and can express Thomistically and in Augustinian language the fact that Christ's Sacrifice was personal in the most intimate sense, this truth is something that hasn't yet truly brought me to my knees.

I've experienced bona fide miracles, and all the time I witness answers to prayers, both of mine and those of my friends. Little prayers are often answered in big, obvious ways. Even so, I simply can't grasp that God's love for us is truly tangible and real.

Honestly, I can barely even write about how personal is His love. Over and over, when I've written on this topic, I tend to make it impersonal, using terms like "we" and "us". Certainly that IS true, and in using those terms I do want to help others understand that this love is for them, maybe if I was being honest I'd have to say that the personal pronouns are too difficult. I need to "diffuse" this love of God to spread it out, because it's so strong that to understand it would bowl me over.

As it stands, I have a hard time truly accepting God's love for...me.

My response to such a revelation has always been, and remains even now, "How can this be?!?"

Lately, when looking at different pictures of Jesus, what has stood out the most has been the wounds on His hands. No matter how sterile and bloodless the picture, the artist has always taken care to portray the wounds left by the nails that pierced Jesus' hands. Every time I see these pictures, I want to stop and lose myself in that image, hide within those wounds. Even as I flinch back in guilt at what I've done, I am drawn forward with a love I cannot deny or refuse.

How dare I write about this love? How can I write about loving Jesus if I struggle so hard to accept His love for me?

This evening before Mass I was musing about this and wonder if perhaps the reason for this dichotomy is actually very simple: we don't know what love really is. In our puny, imperfect human love, we set boundaries, restrictions and conditions, even disorder. Then, when we are confronted with the perfect, personal, unconditional and unrelenting love of Jesus, we realize immeditely that we must accept it on His terms

I was almost overcome in that moment of prayer, still not understanding, but coming a little closer to His Most Sacred Heart. His Heart, the source of all love, that teaches me I don't have to understand in order to accept, that He is only asking me to trust.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.

Immaculate Heart of Mary....pray for us!

Real Women Use Charcoal!

This evening I was perusing those blogs I follow, and saw that Rich Leonardi and I share the same sentiment about charcoal...it's the ONLY way to go.

What's more, we agree that gas is for sissies.

I don't own a gas grill. I'm not interested. Sure, it can be convenient, but in reality, the flavor isn't as good.

And when you're dealing with something you ingest, both by necessity and for pleasure, well, why would you EVER go with something substandard?

Personally, I'm sick of being ridiculed by arrogant people who have gas grills. The reality is that they're just plain lazy. Every single gas grill devotee I've ever met has cited "convenience" while looking down their nose at me and decrying the "mess" of charcoal.

When did sackcloth and ashes become unpopular?

Give me my messy time-consuming labor-intensive charcoal any day. At least my steak and chicken taste good.

The Rosary, Raw Fish, Family, and Vocation

Rosary

This evening after Adoration, I went down to my brother's house for dinner. Since we couldn't celebrate my birthday last week, we planned it for tonight, yet when I was half way there Mom called to say they wouldn't be there!

Apparently my brother decided he needed to go grocery shopping. Happily, though, I had a key to his house, so Mom explained that my birthday gift was on the coffee table and it would give me "something to do". Inwardly I groaned, because I knew she was saying I should pray the rosary she was giving me. (I still have a rebellious side and an ingrained reaction inclined to automatic disobedience to Mom, even if what she is suggesting is something I WANT to do!)

So it was that I entered the empty house, and after setting my things down, went into the bag of rosaries Mom was giving me to distribute to others. Within that was my gift, a special rosary she'd ordered. In fact, she'd been told it would take 5-6 weeks...it only took two.

I think this is the most beautiful rosary I've ever had; it has pearls set in silver (not real!), and the medal has the Sacred Heart of Jesus on one side and Our Lady of the Snows on the other.

Although I usually pray the rosary during my Adoration hour, or, if headed to my brother's, I pray it en route. Once that rosary was in my hands, I understood why I hadn't sensed the inclination to pray as usual; right there, in my brother's living room, while waiting for them to finish their errands, I prayed this rosary for my family. I looked at the painting of the Prodigal Son I'd given my brother for Christmas, and realized that God was bringing things together for us all in a way none of us really understands, even now.

It was a beautiful moment of God's grace, His presence in the small things, and in fact, an answer to a prayer.

Raw Fish

Shortly after they arrived back home, we decided on a restaurant: a Sushi place nearby that apparently was running an all-you-can-eat special. Realizing that this isn't something that comes along every day, we headed over and gorged ourselves on a few courses of Sashimi, Nigiri, and a few different rolls, then another entree of either steak or chicken.

I've only had Sushi a few times, but have always enjoyed it. Today, though, was the first time I had sashimi and realized that perhaps THIS was the real test of whether or not I really liked it! I'll admit that I had to focus on not thinking about what I was eating. The reality is that we're "programmed" not to eat raw food, and yet, what was I doing? Eating raw fish doused in soy and (faux) wasabi.

The texture of the sashimi, (fish without vinegar rice) reminded me of exactly what I was eating and that, in fact...it wasn't cooked. And in fact, cooking it would have ruined it completely.

I've gotta say, though, tonight's dinner was FABULOUS. And the fried rice with my teriyaki steak was the best I ever had! We made certain that our server passed our compliments on to the kitchen!

** Sushi glossary

Family & Vocation

But the best part of the evening was just being with my family, to include my brother's girlfriend. Food, sake, wine and family. What can be better?

They are also curious about my upcoming trip so I explained what I knew, and they want me to come down for dinner again after my first trip in July. We might well return to the same restaurant...so how, in good conscience, could I ever turn that down?

As it is, I'm very grateful for so much right now. My family seems to be warming to the idea of my possible Vocation and they're curious about the life that seems so mysterious to them...and why it interests me. It's hard to explain to my non-practicing-Catholic brother and his girlfriend of the same mindset how God is at the center of everything.

Just the same, I'm grateful for their support. Tonight I brought home the large suitcase from my brother's luggage set. No one is trying to talk me out of this, Mom approves and understands why I'm going.

We did have a short discussion on how, especially, the cloistered communities come to be. How do they build their buildings? How do they live? I explained how they make products to sell, how people support them. My brother can't fathom this. I reminded him that this is how all the great cathedrals were built...from support of the people. Everyone paid for it.

Same with religious communities...benefactors support them, even as they work to support themselves.

I didn't tell my brother that I'm understanding this more and more. God is powerful. This summer I'm able to go on these trips to discern God's will through the same method that built the great cathedrals and maintains various religious communities today: faith and benefactors.

It will maybe be a long time before I will be able to explain any of this to my family. Even as they watch with interest and are wiling to help, they don't all understand. And that, actually, is beautiful, because I know that in that mystery, God is revealing Himself to them.

We all give witness to God through our lives. That doesn't mean we share everything, every detail, but rather that we live as God is calling us to live, follow Him in ways that might be uncomfortable for others to witness (and maybe us to follow!), and slowly, He is revealed.

As I've said over and over again, I'm not a Saint. I'm a train wreck. I'm a plane crash. I'm a husk of a burned-out relic of a car on the side of Route 66. My family knows this very, very clearly, and so does everyone who knows me.

Nothing that is happening to me is happening because of anything I've ever done. But if God can work through someone like me, it shows His glory, His perfection, His love, His mercy. And if I can take a step back and hide behind all that wonder, then I am willing to step up and take this risk.

It's still difficult, but I'll admit that the fact that my Mom and brother are cautiously supportive is amazingly helpful as I prepare to finally take this huge leap in July.

Maybe all it takes to bring people together is a little sake and raw fish. Oh, and the Rosary.

*

;-)

Feast Day of Our Mother of Perpetual Help

Originally published June 27, 2007

I'm not sure when I first saw the icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. I do know that the first time I saw it, I didn't "get it". I was more into "realism" and I didn't like the art, I considered it to be bad although I recognized it as a certain genre. It was off my radar screen, though.

Then I read a little about icons, on a blog or some other formal publication, and it made me consider the style of icons differently; they are not "realistic" for a reason, for they are asking us to go beyond what is seen and into the unseen. Icons are a window to Heaven, in a sense, asking us to overcome our own earth-bound perceptions and see things more from God's point of view. Icons are an invitation to enter into the Divine, to see beyond what is tactile, and to experience, in prayer, what cannot be described in words. Icons are meant to be meditative, and can actually cause one to enter into the contemplative, should God choose to call such a soul through a given image.

Then Our Mother of Perpetual Help continued to appear, first here, then there, and then, while I was working on the lesson I was preparing for RCIA with regard to Sacramentals, I couldn't help but stop and read about OLPH. The description of the symbolism in the icon opened my eyes. Although I skipped forward to find what I needed, I marked the page, and realized that, in a way, I was being called. Our Lady was reaching out to me...for it is clear to me now that I did not choose this icon, this manifestation, if you will, of Our Lady...she chose me.

It is no mistake that this icon came into my own personal sphere as I was learning very deeply about the mystery of the Redemption...for this is what the icon is all about.

Non-Catholics do not understand our reverence for Our Lady, but they DO understand the Redemption, for they, like us, believe they have been saved by the Blood of the Lamb. In this icon, the lamb, the Child Jesus, is being held in his mother's arms. Stop for a moment, and consider this image, note the lines, note the expressions, note the eyes...especially the eyes - of each person.

The Archangel Gabriel (who first appeared to Mary with the invitation from God) holds the Cross and the nails which signified the death of Christ, which were, of course, the instruments leading to the Redemption. The Archangel Michael holds the sword that pierced his side, and the spear holding the sponge that wet his lips as he hung experiencing deep, physical and spiritual thirst those hours upon the cross in abject misery. Jesus as a child in this image, was so stricken by the view of these instruments of torture, these tools of his death, that he ran immediately to his Mother, so quickly that he nearly lost one of his sandals.

Note how the sandal dangles near the bottom of the icon, while the other remains attached. Note how he leans into his mother, against her heart, looking over his shoulder at the cross, seeking protection from the shadow of the cross that falls over him...seeking protection from his Mother.

Do you see how the lines in the icon all point to Jesus in Mary's arms? The folds in her own mantle point to him both directly and through a diagonal line. The folds in the gold pants Jesus wears (gold signifying God and the Holy Spirit) point to him. Note that he wears a green tunic with a red sash....green to symbolize healing, red to symbolize martyrdom, the blood to be shed which brought about the healing of the Redemption.

Look at what Our Lady is wearing: blue, for the royalty of her position, chosen by God, the Queen of Heaven, the Queen of the Angels, herself a creation of God, the most perfect creation (for Jesus IS God, human and divine intermixed), but Mary was chosen from eternity, and wears the color of eternity to signify her role all to God's glory. She also wears red beneath her mantle, for, as Simon predicted at the presentation of Jesus at the Temple, she would be pierced by a sword, and indeed she was...the very sword held by the Archangel Michael who gazes at her sympathetically from her right (our left).

No icon can be really understood, however, without understanding the eyes. We have all heard the term that "the eyes are windows to the soul", and it is the eyes in this icon that indeed penetrate our very souls, inviting us to, in turn, penetrate this icon, penetrate the Paschal Mystery. Both of the Angels gaze at Our Lady as she, in turn, although her head is inclined towards her beloved Child, she gazes at US! Within her eyes, within her expression, she invites us inward. She looks at us with the wisdom that comes with understanding, the resignation to the suffering of her Son and herself in accordance with the Father's will, the deep, deep sorrow only a Mother could know, for she, too is tortured with the vision of the Angels, the instruments of her Son's torture and death as she holds him close to her, knowing what must be, what must happen, in order for humanity to be restored and saved from our sin.

She, in her gaze, asks us all at once to come also into her arms, for we are her children as well, given to her at the foot of the Cross, by Jesus himself. "There is your Mother." We are invited, with John, to take her into our homes just as she welcomes us into her arms, all so she can bring us to her Son, bring us to Jesus.

See how her hands point to him, how the fingers of her right hand point towards his face, the fingers of her left hand, cradling him, also point to his face. Her head is inclined towards Jesus, just as are the angels', and the lines from her shoulder for a direct arrow to him.

But look at the center of the picture...look at how Jesus' hands are turned downward into his Mother's upturned palm. God entrusted himself in his human vulnerability into the hands of this human woman. When Jesus was frightened, he ran to his Mother, just as all of us have done. He ran to her, and as we see his hands turned downward, it is conveying grace...Grace into the hands of Our Lady, Our Mother of Perpetual Help, to dispense the grace according to her motherly wisdom. Jesus could trust her with such a gift...can not we, her children, not follow the example of Jesus and turn to his Mother for help?

We see the theological truth: even as we give our own concerns and our own fears into her hands, she passes them on to Jesus. She brings us to her Son, she points, always, to the Redemption. She points to her beloved Son, never denying Him or taking attention away, but rather seeking to bring us closer, drawing us in with her motherly instinct all for the purpose of our our salvation through the blood of her beloved Child.

There is so much to this icon...there is so much to this image, such that books can be written. I have only barely touched on the imagery of this icon, and there is so much more to be said, but one of the things that strikes so many people, other than the eyes, is the sandal...the dangling sandal.

Remember how Jesus ran to his mother when overshadowed by the cross, seeking the comfort and protection of her embrace?

Look at the dangling sandal, held only by a single golden thread. Contemplate the sandal...what does it mean? What does it represent? That sandal is not an accident - it has significance. Consider how the eyes of Our Mother look at us directly, inviting us into the icon, inviting us to penetrate further. Asking us to become a part of the icon.

That sandal....

I am the sandal...so are you. Sometimes we are affixed to Jesus, but we, too, become frightened by the shadow of the cross, the same shadow that Jesus asks us to brave, so that we may eventually carry his same cross. It is an invitation into his suffering. The sandal is us, falling away in fright, falling away because the road is too difficult, and we can't hang on anymore.

But that thread holds us to Jesus, to that foot that was crucified, in a position for the blood to fall upon us, drop by drop. Sometimes we hold tightly to Jesus...sometimes we fall away, but he never lets go of us.

See how Jesus ran to his mother, and his sandal almost fell off..but didn't. So he brings both his fears and his falling sandal to his mother to fix. Who retied the sandal when he was a child? His mother. She did...she rewound it and re-affixed it, just as she brings us all back to Jesus if we entrust ourselves to her hands, just like Jesus did.

Jesus entrusted the salvation of the world into the "yes" of a human woman, a woman with free will, a woman free to reject the very notion. But Mary said "yes", and she suffered the burden with Christ....a burden only a Mother can truly understand.

Jesus, before death, entrusted his mother into the care of the Apostle John, declaring, "There is your Mother. There is your son." Had he had siblings, this would have been a terrible insult to them, but Jesus provided for his Mother, the woman who had always provided for him. He entrusted us all, while on earth, into her hands as well. Accept her own personal invitation. Look into her eyes, place your hands in hers, and leap into her arms when you are in need of comfort. Just as she held Jesus, so she holds us all, and offers us all to her Son, all to lead us to the salvation He provides for us through his very blood.

Our Mother of Perpetual Help... pray for us!

Surpassing Understanding

Working in a parish is not the same as work in the secular world.

In all the secular jobs I've had, although I remember many co-workers fondly, there was nothing other than the job the really bonded us. As it is, I've not stayed in contact with...well...anyone with whom I've worked in the past. The "friendships" were superficial and incidental, and even those who did remain friends for a time are no longer in my life for one reason or another.

Some of this has to do with my own conversion and having to take a moral stand with regard to one friend's "living will". (She and I were friends for years...that stance caused her to slam the door on our friendship.)

Others were really just not deep enough to last beyond our common employment.

Working in a parish, as I mentioned, is different.

It's not just "a job". Certainly, the actual work involved is definitely "a job". It's paperwork and organization (blech) and coordinating (blech again!) and tedium and a whole bunch of things I do especially when I know I have no idea what I'm doing, why I'm doing it, or how to go about it.

But there's more: there's the people. Catholics just like me. People at various stages in their spiritual life. People who love Our Lord and are doing their best to follow Him.

Working in a parish has softened me. In the past, on my blog, in my angry post-conversion stage I did what a lot of people do; I ripped and shredded people in their ignorance of our faith. In fact, I still do this, but with much less frequency now and even less hostility.

Well, now...I see the cause of that, and the futility of all the ripping and roaring of the blogosphere. Firstly, the people with no faith aren't reading the blogs. Thank God! If they did, they'd run away forever! (We ALL need to learn to hold our tongues!)

I've had the privilege, since starting this position, of speaking to people one to one, and some have had very real, deep questions and are simply in want of a little discussion, maybe even support. Others have been outright hostile, not understanding that living and sharing their faith is, in fact, a baptismal DEMAND upon us. They've been done a disservice in the lack of education they've received, don't know the first thing about what it means to be Catholic and they're confused, angry, hurt, grieving...a thousand things. They don't need harsh words. They need someone to listen and understand.

(They also don't need someone to water down the teachings of the Church, only deliver those teachings gently and with proper timing. I'm still learning this lost art.)

I've also learned that working in a parish actually DIMINISHES my "power" in the eyes of those who attend that parish. Those who don't work for the Church are in fact a bigger voice than any of us who function within the confines of religious education.

For example, if I go up in front of a group of people and say, with references, that we are obligated to attend Mass EVERY Sunday and Holy Day of Obligation, people want to know who I am to DARE to suggest they can't just "decide" whether they are "obligated" on their own. Yet if a fellow parishioner stands in front of them and says the same thing, they hear the voice as "non-authoritative" and therefore, someone to be believed. Thus, if I and that person are on the same page, the teaching has more credibility.

And of course, I've discussed in depth in other posts that if Father says something....it's golden. Even if they don't like it. Because he's Father. They might vilify me, they might vilify the other parishioner, but even if they vilify Father, they take his words to heart. That's a fact.

It really is like a big family of discombobulated siblings, some of whom don't get along, and others that do and form a united front and in fact, carry the rest of the family, rebellious or ambivalent, with their loving and fruitful labors.

As a parish employee, I get to know about 1% of that parish very well, because they're the people I actually SEE all the time. The good thing is that, where I work, that 1% is STELLAR, faithful, prayerful, and they're dragging me kicking and screaming on my way to holiness.

Having just come off of a very large unwieldy project as of today, I can honestly say that if it weren't for a few solid volunteers, everything would have crashed. And not just because one person simply doesn't have the ability to do it all, but because these people see and know my weaknesses and leap in to save me and the project. They've been carrying me and the program all week long.

It comes down to that common goal; wanting the good of others. It's natural to want to jump in and help when the ship is sinking. That's what they do.

I joked with a friend this week that I was really just a figurehead leader, but really....that wasn't a joke. I can't lead myself or organize myself out of a wet paper bag which has been ripped open on both sides and open in the middle.

Yes, I worked hard and did my best, but my best, to stay with the sinking ship metaphor, is a small plastic bucket with a large hole in the middle.

It's the people at this parish that made this week's program work. People I genuinely like and am enjoying getting to know better. And these very same people go out of their way to let me know they're praying for me, willing to help with anything I need...etc.

Working for a parish is, then, both a curse and a blessing. It's an experience of the suffering and the glory of the Cross, lived out within its shadow in ways most people could never understand. I barely understand it myself.

But I'm grateful. I love the teens who volunteer and do so much to make things work, I love the children who love others so easily and quickly, I love the adults who, in their watchful guidance not only guide the programs, but we, as staff, as well.

Direction

Maybe one of the things that's hard for me is "management". I don't like being a manager, and yet, people, volunteers, are coming to me and asking what I want to have happen. They are looking to my authority, and I stand back, amazed, thinking, "You're FAR more qualified to run this than I am!"

But I have to do my job, and yes, I do have a vision and am humbled by the people coming to me for direction as to what to do next. I'm humbled by their willingness to do so much...for nothing.

And I'm so grateful to know these people. Had I turned down this position, I would never have met them. They've changed my life, they've brought me closer to God and yes, they are friends. Not superficial friends, but friends in Christ, and that's an entirely different thing.

Amazing

You all know my financial situation, which is like that of many parish workers; in the summer we lose hours. Yet, of all the people in my life who know of this situation, NONE have suggested I leave this position and find another, something more stable. It seems that everyone understands, at some level, that working in a parish isn't the same thing as working in the secular world. They might not understand how low the pay is and the reality of not having a living wage, but they don't suggest quitting.

There is something more here than just a job.

I won't be in this position forever. Whether I am called to religious life or not, there is one thing that I don't question: and that is that my current job is temporary. I WILL be moving on, if only because I can't live on it and will be forced to do SOMETHING.

Truth be told, I considered quitting a year ago, and a few times since then. Granted our economic climate and 10% unemployment rate has affected my decision to stay a little, but the fact remains that...this job isn't about me.

When I worked in Insurance, while our efforts were team efforts and customer-focused, it was all about the money. No one worked there just for the heck of it. People don't go to an Insurance Company and volunteer to do stuff for free. While other "careers" I've had were done in a search for something meaningful, it was the same thing..the money element was there.

What I realized last year, though, and even more so now that it's almost been two years, is that, in some strange way, this parish needs me. Not because I'm special or a saint or an expert. But because they are in need of stability. They've had a lot of change in the time before I came, and even now, they beg me not to leave any time soon.

That's not about me, personally. It's not a song of my glory. It has to do with their need for stability, consistent staff, not having to constantly evaluate the status or orthodoxy (or lack thereof!) of new people. Right now, the parishioners know what to expect from myself and those in our office. We work well together. We work with Father well, and even in conflicts, peace reigns in spite of frustrations.

Even though I'm almost completely incompetent, these people know me and have expressed they want me to stay. Some of this has been voiced out of a desire to not have any more "change". For others, it's been more personal, and I'm grateful for that. We all need to know we're valued in some way.

I've written a lot here, as usual, but I think I could write an entire book and STILL fail to explain adequately what keeps me at that parish. Suffice to say, perhaps, that it is Our Lord. He calls, He places, He draws us together and helps us to be faithful. We work together not for our good, but for the good of all, for the good of each other.

So often I walk down the hall to the church to spend some time with Jesus, pray for help, or even a little support, and apologize to Him for being such a bad servant. There I am, working in His own House and even in my unfaithfulness, in my doubt, things end up working out. People step in to fill my weaknesses. In that, He is glorified.

I know that everything of God is far bigger than any of us. I know that the project of this week was so far beyond any of us that we can never fathom the eternal consequences and graces.

This week was brutal, but it was clear that God was present, held the entire thing in His hand, and I even "felt" His hand on me at times.

I need to remember those moments in times when I don't understand what I'm doing. Every little thing is for Him, and ultimately, about Him.

I'm grateful no one has suggested I just quit my job. I don't want to. Even as I grumble and procrastinate and stress out, I've never had a job that has so revealed the heart of Christ. I've never before had a job that brought me so easily and quickly to my knees.

I've never before had a job that hit me so hard in ALL of my weaknesses, forcing me to see how God works...because I simply cannot.

And everything that happens belongs to His Glory.

Apparently this lesson was so important for me to learn and continue to learn that God called me into a parish to learn it. They say that the Church is a hospital for sinners. I'm a permanent resident.

That's what it means to work for God, and not for the world.

It's a terrible, frustrating, agonizing, glorious and joyful experience and I'm grateful to God for this experience and for the people who have truly made me realize what it means to die to myself in order to live for others.

This is only the tip of the iceberg....

*

Never Neverland

Michael Jackson died today.

People tend to have strong reactions about him.

In my observation, that has been true from his very childhood.

He's like an undead Elvis, only so because he didn't die when stardom would have recommended, but continued to live in infamy far past his prime, pushing the envelope.

I'll admit it; I AM saddened by his death, maybe because it seems that the polarization caused by his fame means that people are too busy analyzing him to be bothered with prayer for him.

When I was a child, maybe fourth or fifth grade, I, and most of my friends, had a HUGE crush on Michael Jackson. Some friends of mine created their own dance to "Thriller". We screamed for him, we wanted to be like him. We wanted to know him. We wanted to wear black leather pants with white socks and one glove. And a red vinyl jacket.

Then I moved to Minnesota, and in this particular state, the buzzword was "Gay". I'd never heard that word outside of the context of "happy" and mind you, I was only 10 at the time. But as far as my new classmtes were concerned, Michael Jackson was "Gay" as was anything of which they did not collectively approve.

On my own, I went on being a fan, and my Dad gave me, that Christmas, a cassette tape of the Jackson Five. That same Christmas, I got "Thriller".

It was with disappointment and disillusionment that I witnessed Jackson's descent through plastic surgery, charges of pedophilia, various new albums, and near obscurity. His name remained big even as his persona degenerated into the realm of pure stock media villification.

For years, now, I've been a disillusioned fan of Jackson. I remember when he set his hair on fire during a Pepsi commercial, and even as I laughed, I was struck to my core at the viscious attack at something that could have happened to anyone.

I don't know what happened to him. I remember how I always thought he was so tough, I remember the "crush" I had on him, and the disappointment over the years when he didn't measure up to what I thought he was. The pedestal he'd been on simply was gone.

But I've grown up, of course, and Jackson did, too.

But did he really? As I watch tonight's "memorial" on Nightline, I can't avoid seeing the contrast between the man I "fell in love with"as a child, and the strange imitation of zombihood he became as he matured.

On Nightline, his childlike perceptions stood out starkly; his expensive purchases made becuase he could.

Michael Jackson is a tragic figure if only so because he was never allowed to be a child, and as such, he was never allowed to grow up. He never grew into the man he was supposed to become. I won't get into theories on that, but it seems clear that he was always searching for something that was snatched from him long ago.

I'm surprised that his death affects me, but it does, for in a way, I grew up with him....and then he became something unrecognizable.

May God bless and keep him. My prayers go out to his family, and I pray he is finally granted the peace he was never allowed to experience or even truly seek during his pilgrimage on earth.

Michael Jackson...may the peace of Christ be with you.

May you never find Neverland, but rather, may you find Eternity.

*

Questionable Spiritual Direction

This morning I read a wonderful post on spiritual direction which perfectly highlights many of the problems in "spiritual direction" programs, and "directors" that advertise their services.

The reality is that faithful Catholics don't have very many avenues to pursue. If you type "spiritual direction" into a web search, there are millions of returns, but perusing them leaves us to realize we've been left to the wolves.

A quick perusal of spiritual direction programs leaves a bad taste in one's mouth. How are these people being trained? It's easy to see: Reiki, Enneagram, Chakras, Yoga....the list goes on. Where in there are the Saints who served as spiritual directors and learned how to guide souls? Where are the spiritual giants? Why are potential directors being fed junk food when Catholicism has a wealth of true spirituality that trumps anything any other religion can produce?

I don't expect non-Catholic directors to be Catholic. However, I DO expect those who ARE Catholic to be faithful! Is that too much to ask?

Apparently. The article I read this morning observed the confusion going on in the world of those being trained for spiritual direction.

A great example of this sad confusion surfaced in a conversation I had today with someone who was taking classes with a religious order to become a "spiritual director." In one of her recent classes the nuns brought in a Buddhist, a Natural Spiritist, and a number of other non-Christian representatives to share their spiritual insights. The goal was to understand that, as she said, "we are all Children of God" and that "we can learn a great deal from the spiritual lives of those who come out of these other religions."

I was a bit dumbfounded even though I am accustomed to this particular convent spreading dissent and confusion. What struck me was how readily this "spiritual direction" trainee had accepted what they presented to her.....With deep incredulity, I wondered why someone would look outside of the endless depth and riches of their own faith, the One true Faith, the pinnacle of all that is good and true, into the spiritual wastelands of those who reject Christ both directly and indirectly. Even looking at the good of what is available in some of these religions, it is something like being diverted away from the most lavish banquet ever served in the history of time to a garbage can in the back of a greasy dive. Yes, something in there will be semi-edible, but why would anyone who had a seat reserved for them at this great feast ever choose to eat this way?

INDEED! AMEN! ALLELUIA!

The fact is that some of what he says in this piece is exactly what lead me down the road to New Age, and subsequently, occult. I saw "Catholic nuns" give license to all sorts of things, to include Tarot and other forms of divination and even animal worship.

So it should be no wonder if I bristle at hearing that good Catholics are being sucked into programs that tell them things like Reiki and the Enneagram are proper for Catholics. They are not.

A few years ago I met a woman who spoke of her yoga classes and chakras and said that she was trying to interpret it as Catholic. She said that she could "feel" the energy and she "chose to call it the Holy Spirit."

There's a problem with that; it either IS the Holy Spirit or it's NOT the Holy Spirit. We can call it whatever we want, but occult "energy" is no more of God than a rotted piece of dogflesh held up and called the "Blessed Sacrament."

Everything she was describing made my hair stand on end. Yet I said nothing, realizing that she wouldn't "hear" the truth. No one said anything...she was describing her experiences in a defensive tone and language. That immediately says a great deal. Although we were in a group of mixed views, not a single person spoke up for she was so defensive she was almost angry in her explanation, or, in charismatic terms, "her sharing."

If it's of God, there's no need to be defensive when no one has attacked.

I do realize that there are spiritual direction programs out there that are much like the bad seminaries that produced a few good priests in spite of their efforts to destroy the priesthood via bad formation. God has His hand on His Faithful, and brings souls safely through bad formation. Those who are formed simply reject what is evil and work hard, on their own, to own what is truly good and orthodox. The reality is that often people cannot follow their calls unless they are subjected to evil in the process.

To any of the Faithful seeking spritual direction...check out Catholic Spiritual Direction. I've been following it for quite awhile now and have found it to be faithful, good advice. Maybe you can't find an SD where you are. Read the Saints. Read this blog and their resources. Remember that God does not abandon you and that He gives you what you NEED...not necessarily what you may want.

I wanted an SD for a long time, but one was not provided to me until the actual need arose. I found him in a time of desperation, and with much prayer and following that prayer.

Had I just given in to my own wants, I would have found one of the confused sheep described in the post I quoted.

Don't give yourself to feeding on garbage. Trust God, pray for a good director, and remember that it's not a right...it's a gift from God. If He wants you to have one, He'll provide, and that director will be faithful!

Avoid the refuse that is so readily available. As Catholics, we have no need to go out of our faith to find what is good. Certainly there might be something good to be found in other religions, but, of course, if you dig in a dumpster you can also find a small section of meat or bread that might not be rotted and can sustain you briefly, too. But there's also a good chance that same piece will kill you. Are you willing to go dumpster diving for your soul when you have all you need provided to you in your own Faith?

Resources:

Catholic Spiritual Direction

Vatican Document on New Age: Jesus Christ the Bearer of the Water of Life

God Told Me To Take a Flying Leap

I've decided that if I'm going to write about discernment, it might be valuable to write also about the process and communication between myself and the various communities. Each is a little different. They require different things, and not always for reasons I can understand or explain. I can only present what is going on to a general degree, in hopes the information is helpful to someone, somewhere.

One of the communities with which I've been in contact confirmed this weekend some dates I can visit them. She also attached a document requesting I forward it to my SD or Pastor, explaining it was a reference form.

Additionally she indicated I need to write my autobiography and send it to her before my visit, and in response to some of my questions, explained I should include a self-assessment of my character and a few other things, such as family history and relationships. I was a bit surprised; after all, I was only going for a short discernment retreat! But if that's their process, that's their process. Even if I consider it a bit invasive for a few days of introduction, there must be reason and I'm willing to submit to that.

I'd responded to confirm the dates of the retreat before I looked at the reference form (as I needed to view it via a different browser).

Imagine my surprise when I opened the document and it said, "X person has applied for admission to Y Order...."

HUH!?

I was a bit shocked by that! While I admit I'm interested in visiting to find out more about their life and charism, that does NOT equal "applying to the Order". No WAY was I going to forward that form on to my SD! If I did, no doubt he would also be surprised and would write back/call to ask me if that, in fact, was my intention to apply. I'd have to say no!

One thing about discernment...if you're not honest, with yourself and with any potential communities, it's going to end in disaster. For a little while, I wavered...send it on assuming it's part of their discernment process, or, would doing so really be saying I'm applying to this Order?

Realizing my circular thinking that really just needed clarification, I sent another email to Sister requesting clarification and explaining my position. I figured that if they required application before a visit could occur, it would be a sign of God's will that it wasn't the place for me...definitively. Which was fine with me. I was ready to say "no" if that was the case.

Here's the odd thing: as all of this was going through my mind and I was composing the email, I was taken back in time. I had a friend, a guy friend who seemed to think we were in or headed for a serious relationship. To me, he was just a friend and I wasn't interested in anything more. He clearly WAS, however. Unfortunately, this issue seemed always to come up at times where it would be improper to have "that conversation" so instead I found ways to get out of it while trying to figure out how to let him down easy. He wasn't a bad guy, just a really clueless one. And I figured maybe I'd sent the wrong signals. How to explain to him I wasn't where he was?

In pondering the forms and writing the email to this community, then, I almost felt like I was back in that situation. "Oh, no! He thinks I mean I want to get married when really I just want to be friends!"

And we are all familiar with the similar situation where we "LIKE-LIKE" a guy but we don't want to consider marriage with them until we know we're really friends and really click. So maybe we're headed that way but in reality, they're assuming more than we're willing to offer. And....how to make him slow down a little bit? We don't want to close the door, just...take more time to say hello and meet the family before the ring appears.

Not that I've ever been given a ring. I haven't.

I don't want to go where God does not want me to go. I have six weeks this summer, a very limited period of time. It is not in my interest to waste my time, and certainly not in any given community's interest to waste theirs! And sometimes God's will is revealed obviously, sometimes it's more subtle. Lately, given the ways He's been opening doors, I would not be taken by surprise if He decides to slam one shut in order to say, "Not this one! Not for you!"

Today, though, I received a response to my query, with apologies, and a different form attached. She explained that in the past, they required the reference at application, but have moved that part of the process to the discernment retreat instead. The wording on the proper form makes a great deal more sense! I need to print it out and sign my life away (well, to a certain degree!) in order for my SD to respond to it. She also clarified that she is aware of my position (i.e. no miscommunication on that point!) and they don't expect me to be at that point right now.

Whew! (She also jokingly commented that she hopes my heart didn't stop for too long!) I have to interject that the last couple emails have been peppered with a little random humor, and that makes me more comfortable with the process. I tend to use humor to deal with stress (because it works!) and find that those who are so formal that humor can't be a part of the picture are lacking in personality. ;-)

So, anyway... it's clear that this particular community is SERIOUS about discernment! It's a good thing I'm serious about it, too!

That's not to say I think I'm called to that particular community. I only know that something about it has gotten my attention, and I feel like I have to see it through. It could be that I get there and find immediately that it's not where I belong. Or I may go...and find home. I don't think there will be any ambiguity at all.

In reality, that's what I expect with the other communities as well, the ones I'll be visiting early to mid July. Will it be "home"? Will it be a lesson in all the virtues packed into a single week or a few days? Will it lay questions to rest or affirm what I (and a few others) suspect?

Who knows?

The only way to know is to go and find out, and that's a risk. One I definitely think is worth taking.

In so many ways, I'm completely amazed at my current position. Here I stand, perched in the doorway of a fighter jet (things are moving that quickly!) getting ready to jump. I don't know what's below me but I DO know that God is flying this plane and has asked me to take a flying leap...(in a holy way...)

A lot is happening, all at once, and yet, I feel prepared, to at least a certain degree. I know that I'm not doing this alone, even if I am the one who has to make the sacrifice of actually stepping over the edge into this freefall.

And...let me tell you..it's a BIG drop off the end of this pier!

*

BOMBS AWAY! BANZAI!

* (I like to mix metaphors. It keeps people on their toes!)

Fr. Tim Vakoc: Died June 20, 2009

I just learned the news. For those who are unfamiliar with Fr. Vacoc, he was serving as an Army Chaplain in Iraq, and was seriously injured in 2004 when a roadside bomb exploded near his Humvee.

You can read the story at The Catholic Spirit.

For years we've been praying for him, and rejoicing at small gains he's made in that time, some of which are detailed in the article.

I'm really in kind of a state of shock right now...this seems so sudden!

Eternal Rest grant unto him O Lord, may your face shine upon him, and may he rest in peace.

*

The Little Things - Happy Father's Day

(Originally posted June 14, 2008)

I've never seen my father's grave. He died early in January (1995) and so he wasn't buried immediately. His burial took place the following spring on a lonely day when we, his entire family, were away living our lives...without him. My brother saw his grave some time after, but I've never been there. I was a college student and couldn't even afford to contribute towards the headstone.

Someday I MUST make that sad pilgrimage to the UP and lay flowers at the graves of my Dad and Grandparents.

We are only dust, and if those who survive us don't remember us, even our dust is worthless to the world.

My Dad wasn't perfect...but he wasn't worthless. He's still not worthless. And it's the small things that I remember about him and his life that really mean the most to me.

I've written before, many times, that I was a "Daddy's Girl", like so many other little girls. I always wanted to be with him, and he was so easy to be with! He indulged my every little concern, I was the apple of his eye and he was the apple of mine. I even remember a discussion with Mom; I was going to grow up and marry Daddy. I saw a conflict even then, because of course Mommy was married to Daddy, but I think it was the most sincere expression of love I could muster. (Yes, I know about the Electra Complex. Don't bother my reverie with psychobabble facts.)

Well, Mommy talked me out of marrying Daddy very skillfully and suggested I continue to love him but marry someone else. I agreed. You see, I was a very agreeable little girl. And all I wanted was that stability and love that only a father can provide.

I was always so proud of my Dad. While he had terrible taste in clothing (the man could not seem to leave the 60's and 70's behind) he was maybe one of the most outgoing people I've ever met. He had a kind word for everyone, an easy sense of humor, and a compassionate demeanor. He was agreeable almost to a fault, but this trait made him very approachable to one and all. Whenever I brought friends over, he was thrilled to see them, he smiled and made them feel welcome, even if he was in the middle of an arduous task. Conversely, when I went to my friend's homes, often their fathers were not around, or aloof, or even outright rude. I heard terrible language at one friend's home, language that made me shudder and seek to take cover, while my friend didn't even flinch. Whenever we entered her home, she peeked into the livingroom first to make sure her dad wasn't there. If he was, we whispered and tiptoed to her room or back outside in order not to disturb him.

No one ever had that sense of fear around my Dad.

He really was a wonderful human being, for all his shortfalls. I've written of the bad things, but let me share with you even a short list of the moments forever caught in the shutterclick of my memory:

* Summer afternoons in the backyard with the sound of boats on the river echoing between the banks. Evenings on the patio outside the livingroom bay windows, weeds growing from between the irregular paving stones while the smell of barbecued chicken filled the air. I hovered, waiting to suck on the bristles of the basting brush when the grilling was done.

* Humid Illinois summer days in the hot sun, running towards Daddy on the red Toro riding lawnmower, hoping for a ride, hoping to "drive".

* Sunday morning, being allowed to "dress myself" much to Mom's chagrin when we arrived at the church.

* Friday nights, sitting on Daddy's back, watching "The Dukes of Hazzard" while clutching my "boo bankie" and sucking my thumb.

* The cries of seagulls piercing the clouds on Lake Michigan as Daddy taught me to fish off the pier, tying the lead sinker onto the fishing line. The subsequent "tugs" when I got a bite, and the eventual success as I caught fish...and Dad didn't.

* In later years, in Minnesota, fishing in Lake of the Isles in Minneapolis, MN, catching sunny after sunny as Dad caught nothing, and in frustration tried my spot, fouling my own efforts.

* Dad's sacrifices to give me English riding lessons and his smile as I posted a trot around the ring for the first time. He had no idea what I was doing but it made me happy and that's all that mattered to him.

* My 16th Birthday at Canterbury Downs (Now Canterbury Park) as we entered the "Filly for a Fan" contest and Dad named the filly-to-be "Julie's Dream". (We didn't win the filly.)

* The pennant I recieved from Dad when he attended the 1987 Twins World Series game...and got my brother and I Homer Hankies and Pennants with the names of the team printed on it.

* Dad's advice that I could do and become anything I wanted...even President. (2009: I'm old enough now, Dad!)

* The feature article in the newspaper that Dad sent us from Michigan a couple years before his death, talking about how he and his friends bragged about their children over coffee, and how, among that group, my brother and I took precedence over all the others in our accomplishments and aspirations. We were heroes and he was proud of us.

* The summer stars, the winter warmth, the fall comforts, the spring of hope.

I write about my Dad every now and then, and I do miss him. I wish I could call him and share my life with him. I long to hear his advice and seek his comforting and loving authority. I do envy my friends who still have their parents, but I don't begrudge them this wonderful grace. I only hope they are taking note of the small moments and seeing what's important for one day they, too, will be orphans.

A few years ago, when I was really struggling in my faith, in Confession a priest told me, "God is your Father...and Mary is your Mother. Go to them."

And I have. And they have helped me understand my earthly parents and love them that much more, especially my Dad. I've learned to see his flaws, but also his good points, in balance. And I hope and pray that I can be just like him in all the ways that matter.

I love you, Dad. I miss you. Happy Father's Day.

*

Eternal rest grant unto him O Lord. May your face shine upon him and may he rest in peace.

Year for Priests and Father's Day

I don't think it's any mistake that several important days are converging along with the advent of a very important year in the history of the Church.

The Year for Priests began on Friday, June 19, which "happened" also to be the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Today, of course, is the Memorial of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, and tomorrow is the secular "feast"....Father's Day.

Fr. Cory Sticha has an incredible homily for this weekend's Mass readings, and one of the things that struck me the most was the reality of the Spiritual Fatherhood of Priests.

"This year, we have a second fatherhood which we are asked to remember. On Friday, the feast of the Sacred Heart, Pope Benedict proclaimed the Year for Priests, a year of prayer for priests and celebration of the ministerial priesthood. Like Fathers' Day for our earthly, physical fathers, we are called during this special year to remember those priests who have truly shown the spiritual fatherhood that is the nature of the priesthood.

While most priests are not fathers by birth, all priests are called to be spiritual fathers, who give the same self-giving love to the people they have been called to serve. The focus of any priest should not be on his needs and desires, but on what is best for the parishioners that he's called to both serve and lead. Sometimes that service and leadership might lead to making decisions that aren't popular, but priests are still called to make those decisions on behalf of the parishioners.

Priests are also called to teach and preach the saving love of God and show the example of loving God and loving our neighbors. We're called to join in celebrating joyful occasions, and to be a source of comfort in times of sorrow. In short, we are called to be fathers. It's not a coincidence that the spiritual fatherhood and the earthly fatherhood have similar job descriptions. Both draw from the example of God our Father in Heaven."

I have to admit, Father's Day is always a bit difficult for me, and it kind of stops me in my tracks to realize that next year, my birthday will be ON Father's Day.

I've written before about how I was a "Daddy's Girl", which is pretty common for little girls. By the time he died, I'd long grown out of that phase, but of course that closeness, even when wounded, remains. We all NEED our Fathers; they're so important in our formation on so many levels, for they reveal to us, in a sense, the face of God, the love of God, and the protection of God.

Sometime in the last year, my Mom told me that she believes I was conceived on (or near) my Dad's birthday and her projected due date was close enough to Father's Day that they hoped for it. As it was, apparently I missed it by a day or so.

Just the same, every year my birthday and Father's Day was always close enough so that it was a special time for Dad and I, and we often celebrated our days together. If anything, that joint celebration probably strengthened our bond, and Dad was always so proud to have those special dates so close together.

But sometimes life gets in the way, and bonds are broken, although maybe not completely shattered or destroyed.

Even though I hadn't seen my Dad for nearly four years when he passed away, my grief hit me hard, and it comes back again around my birthday/Father's Day. It's easier when it's a few days apart, but this year it's the same weekend. Next year...the same day.

My heart caught in my throat when I looked ahead, realizing this. Realizing that finally, the dates converge.

I haven't had a Father since 1995.

A few years ago I wrote a blog post about the recognition of the spiritual fatherhood of priests, although it's one I took down. It was somewhat shocking then, to read Fr. Sticha's words that seem to follow the same lines of thought I'd had at that time.

I remember going to the chapel in my annual grief, lamenting that I didn't have a father, missing my Dad. And I remember pondering the priests in my life and their spritual fatherhood and how, after I'd become a member of a parish, the priests there became...Fathers. I wouldn't be where I am now without them.

No, it's NOT the same as having my Dad. I can't just call up the parish priest and complain to him about this that and the the other thing, ask him to fix my car, change out my ceiling fan for one that works, etc. etc.

What they do is so much more important than such menial tasks. Priests show us the face of Christ, they bring to us His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. They feed us with a Divine food far greater than any mere earthly meal, and through them, the Mercy of Jesus Christ is revealed to us and absolves us of our sins. On the more temporal level, those I know have helped me get into grad school, have helped me get my current job, and are assisting me in my discernment of a religious Vocation. (Actually, several Fathers are helping me, in different ways, on this particular front!)

After all...what good Father doesn't want to see his daughter married well?

So even as I face this annual bout of grief for my Dad, I know that I am not so fatherless, for there are a HOST of Priests who have been and will continue to be Fathers to me, and to all of us.

Tomorrow, as we pray for our earthly Fathers, living and dead, let us also remember to pray for Priests, for it is their spiritual Fatherhood that ensures we will never be orphans.

*

Go read Fr. Sticha's entire homily!

*

Immaculate Heart of Mary

In opening my Liturgy of the Hours today, I realized that it is the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. And I'm going to do my best to get to Mass this morning!

It's also John Paul II's Baptismal Day and I'm older today. Finally, I can be President. BAH! Now my life is complete.

What irony. I remember turning 16, then 18, then 21, then 25, and looking at life through the lens of "Now I can drive! Now I can vote! Now I can buy a lottery ticket! Now I can have wine with dinner! Now I can have a lower insurance rate on my car!"

Now I look at it and I think I finally hit the last thing: now I'm old enough to be President. Who cares?

The reality is that now there's a bunch of stuff I CAN'T do. I can no longer apply for law enforcement jobs with the Federal Government. (Not that I wanted to; that's just the cutoff.) There are several religious communities that would no longer consider me (passed that milestone at 30, actually, for many of them.) Of course, I'm not considering those anyway, but I hate being back to realizing that every door in the world isn't open to me anymore like it once was. Such is life.

So it is that I'm grateful to be able to share this day with the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I can fade into the background.

It's awesome, in the most proper sense of the word, to be able to celebrate these great feasts (and one my my greatest devotions) two days in a row during one of the most stressful times of my year.

So, for me, it's off to Mass then rush off to work. Just hope people aren't pounding down the door because I'm going to get to work late today!

Hmmmmm....

Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a writer. I have NO IDEA why, but even as early as second grade, I dreamed of authoring a book, and even more...doing my own illustrations!

That's always been one of my deepest desires, but it's one that has morphed over time. I have several "novels" I've begun, I have short stories, and on another blog, I have the first seven "chapters" of a story I wrote when I was twelve...but it's been given new life now that I'm an adult. (It's dead on the racetrack right now, though.)

I think that may be one of the dangers of blogging; instant publication. I remember dreaming of "being published" but here I am, doing it myself. Ho hum. Oh, look, I hit "publish" again and THERE IT IS!

No, it'll never be the same thing as actually being a published author. Although I have had a few minor things published here and there, I haven't pursued this very much and those sources are so obscure that no one has ever heard of them.

Pay them no mind.

Here and there I've mused about taking my blog posts, only the cream of the crop, and compiling them into a book, maybe an anthology of sorts. There are bloggers who have done this, although I've wondered why. Certainly there are bloggers who share a great deal of information, and a book would make it more readable, especially if the information is reliable and can serve as a resource.

In my case, I look at what I publish, and truly, when I look at my "market", well...it's a dime a dozen. It's worth nothing. No one knows me. I'm not a famous person and never will be (thank God!) The downside of using a pseudonym such as mine is that I can't use it in traditional publication. I'll have to either give my real name...or make up another one. And every pen name I think of is so incredibly stupid I'd be ashamed to stamp my work with it!

Just recently, though (and he's not the first) a commenter said he'd like to see these "prequel" posts compiled into a book, along with whatever happens in my upcoming trip.

He got me thinking again. (I'm assuming a "he", although the person was anon and could be a "she"!)

In any case, the comment reminded me that when I began this blog, I was in my initial phase of discernment. The one I abandoned for a couple years, and which came back with a vengeance starting last July. A lot has happened since I started this blog, and I couldn't have predicted ANY of it.

I'm one of those people who likes to research any possible path. Back when I graduated college, I researched what it would take to volunteer for a couple years, in, say, Guatemala. I was looking for a faithful Catholic organization, even though I wasn't practicing my faith at the time. I wanted to. I wanted to do good things...AND be holy. I wanted to seek God. To several friends, I commented that I wanted to read anecdotal stories from people who had done such things. Seeing that no such books existed, I wanted to venture on a mission, keep a journal, and compile my stories and those of people I knew, publish it, and then use the proceeds to start a foundation to help young adults find the financial freedom to take those months or couple years in service to the Church.

Clearly, that never happened.

That's what's so amusing...it seems this idea has come full circle!

This time the topic is discernment, and I'm not musing about entering into it...I'm THERE. And it's brutal and horrific and had I known it would be this bad I would have run away years ago and maybe I would have joined the Rodeo and became a clown.

At least with bull's horns and hooves you know clearly what to avoid, when to run away, and whether or not the big stick in your hand means anything at all!

Yet, it's also been joyful, and even amidst all the shadows, I'm grateful for this experience. I see God's hand in ways I would never have seen had I not taken the time to seriously discern the deepest questions (most of which I still haven't truly asked.)

So now I take another look at writing a book. This one is mostly written...it's all over my blog. Some posts are labeled, some are not. But...I can go back to the beginning, pull the posts on discernment and some of the more spiritual/theological ones, and compile them into book form.

I would have to do some serious editing, for these posts were written for this venue...not for a book. I would have to add connections and maybe explanations. Perhaps I'd have to take more care to define certain terms.

What would be the purpose of the book?

Well...for the last couple years, I've gotten emails and comments from people who have contacted me because of what I have written. Some are in the same "place", some have been where I was a that time (or am now!), some have been seeking, some needing encouragement. That's why I've kept writing and continue to do so now.

I realize now that maybe I'm providing what I wanted to provide so long ago, but now, for a different topic. There are a lot of books on discernment and the theological "how-to", but not a lot of stuff on experience. And yet, sometimes experience is the most valuable of all sources.

People don't come to God through dry tomes, but through personal invitation. They come to know Jesus not through the dry words of a theologian, but through the warm expression of someone who knows Him..or at least is sincerely trying to do so. That's why testimony to God's glory, both spoken and written, is so important.

We know we have to tell our stories if we want to evangelize. But why hasn't this same idea been taken up within the Church more broadly as a way to help souls find their Vocations?

I've decided to start work compiling posts I deem "worthy", at least initially. If nothing else, I figure it might be a good spiritual and academic practice to sincerely look at those old posts and try to improve them. It might also remind me how long I've been face-to-face with God.

Don't look for results any time soon. This is a big project, I don't know if I'm serious about actually publishing a compilation publicly, but I DO need a little advice from any experienced writers who may be in my midst.

First: since I'll be putting posts into Word, is it better to just start one document and continue it, or to set an approximate number of pages and have several sections? I can put them all into one Folder, but from a practical standpoint, are big files or small files the way to go?

Advice needed, even if this project never goes beyond this post and my computer.

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Feast of the Sacred Heart

Today is the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and the day the Church begins the Year for Priests.

Everyone, get to Mass today and pray for priests!

Prayer to the Sacred Heart for Priests

Remember, 0 most loving Heart of Jesus, that they for whom I pray are those for whom You prayed so earnestly the night before Your death. These are they to whom You look to continue with You in Your sorrows when others forsake You, who share Your griefs and have inherited your persecutions, according to Your word: That the servant is not greater than his Lord. Remember, O Heart of Jesus, that they are the objects of the world's hatred and Satan's deadliest snares. Keep them then, 0 Jesus, in the safe citadel of Your Sacred Heart and there let them be sanctified in truth. May they be one with you and one among themselves, and grant that multitudes may be brought through their word to believe in You and love You.

Pilgrimage

It takes the entire Church to foster a single Vocation.

A lot has happened in the last couple weeks and I confess I'm absolutely amazed. I knew that coming into this summer, I was being asked to trust God...with everything. With my heart, with my soul...with everything that owns me (the house and bills and debt).

One of the difficulties I face is not wanting to ask for help, especially financial. Having grown up on welfare, I swore I'd never live like that again. I'm perfectly able to support myself. I have worked hard to get a degree, to become qualified (for many things now!) in hopes I'll never have to rely on others again.

And yet, here and there, things have come up that have made me have to depend on others, and in ways that I found most difficult to accept: financially. Those who have helped me in the last couple years will never see and don't know the interior struggle I had within me to accept their assistance.

I have to admit, I still feel guilty about it and in the back of my mind, that "debt" is there. Even if my paperwork-debts are erased, I will never consider myself free until they, too, are paid back.

Dependence

Then, with this summer fast approaching, I had to make a decision: place my trust in a temp agency or other to find me a job that will pay my bills? Or trust God and dedicate myself to finding Him, seeking the Kingdom of God? Could I do both?

I wanted to do both. I wanted to schedule my summer so that I could discern some of the time and work the other part of the time. As it is, I will have my 10 hours per week at my regular job (but for when I take a vacation day when out of town.) So truly, that is being fulfilled.

Yet no other jobs have been "appearing". I did decide to place my apples in one basket, so to speak. Even as my SD pointed out, God was asking me to trust Him. To keep my eyes on Him, and I knew it was time to take a step in His direction.

God has not let me fall; in fact, He is providing in ways I never could have expected, and in ways I refused to request. He has seen my own obstinance, yet in His mercy, has acted through others to provide for my financial needs this summer.

Just today, I received a contribution from someone I know well. I don't want to identify the person/family, but when I spoke to him yesterday and he verified that I haven't been irresponsible with my mortgage payments, he offered to cover it for the summer. Today the check arrived...enough to cover my mortgage for July and August. He asks only for prayers and that I call him and tell him what happens during my visits. And no, he isn't asking for anything but general information.

I nearly burst into tears while on the phone with him, realizing what God has done and how He is providing for me.

My plane ticket and Amtrak ticket are also being covered by a multitude of donors, and I think gas money for my car as I drive later this summer to visit the Cistercians will also be covered.

In doing the calculations, what I need is being covered. My actual, billable needs.

This entire summer, my trips to visit communities are being covered by the Mystical Body of Christ. Not just in prayer (which I need!), but the temporal needs of my life as well.

I have a ride to and from the airport in July. I have some dear friends, a family with small children, who are going to watch my dog. We visited them today with much hilarity and it seems as though it's going to work out well! (I just hope she isn't too much trouble for them!)

I have a Pastor and an SD who support me completely, and a family that maybe doesn't completely understand, but they're willing to help. And in fact, I'll be traveling with borrowed luggage - from my brother! (As brothers go, he's probably thinking, "Anything that will get my sister out of town is a good thing....) :-)

Pilgrim Making a Pilgrimage

Some time ago, one of my co-workers was criticizing (in a charitable way!) the fact that people go on pilgrimages and fund themselves. Never having been on a pilgrimage, I asked her honestly how they're supposed to GET to Rome or the Holy Land or Lourdes unless they fork over the money for the trip?

I can't remember everything, but she indicated that a true pilgrim doesn't arrive at his destination by his own means. Part of the spirit of a pilgrimage is being willing to be dependent upon others. Of leaving home with nothing, and arriving at the destination via the alms of those who saw a need and responded. It's about learning dependence upon God, of being willing to suffer for Him, and maybe in a way, it's a walk to Calvary even when the destination isn't physical Jerusalem.

What she said made sense. A pilgrimage is a spiritual quest, and maybe has different intents, but each of them has to do with finding God, following Him, prayer, and sacrifice.

When I leave next month to find out whether God may truly be calling me, and whether one of these communities is my home on earth, I go with nothing in my pocket. I go with the clothing on my back, and other necessary items in a suitcase borrowed from my brother. The money in my pocket for incidentals won't be the fruits of my labor, but of the labor of friends.

The flight to and from, and the train ticket between destinations comes to me largely compliments of people I haven't even met and may never meet in this life...may I meet them on the other side of the veil.

I know that when I go, I don't go alone. This IS a pilgrimage of sorts, for althoughI'm not going to visit a shrine, but rather, to meet the Bridegroom in a special way. I may find "home" on this earthly pilgrimage, or I may find that my "home" is where I am now. I may find that the life of a religious is where I belong, but that those particular communities are not the right place.

In any case, I go to follow where God is leading, and because all of this is happening, and with the help of so many people, it must be what God wills in this moment.

Yes, it's a bit scary, but at the same time, it's a whirlwind of excitement, and truly, I have that "peace that surpasses understanding."

I truly don't understand how all of this has happened, yet I go, gratefully, and as I seek my Vocation, no matter where it leads, I know that all those who have helped go with me in a special way. The pilgrimage I make is theirs as well.

A few times I've written of going to Holy Communion with the recognition that of myself, I can offer nothing. I am a sinful creature, indebted to the Mercy of Our Lord, and can never merit such an act of salvation. In that, I've recognized my interior poverty and learned that the best way to receive Him was through that very poverty.

And now, I go to meet Him in another way, again, through poverty, knowing I don't merit what I possess, grateful for such a gift.

Thank you, Jesus, for your generosity and for revealing how trust in You is never in vain.

Thank you all, for your own ongoing prayers and other contributions.

Trust is NEVER in vain.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...we place all our trust in Thee.

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Deep Thought of the Day

As I was packing my lunch for work, I mused about my coleslaw, and remember that, as a child, I thought it was "cold slaw". I didn't know what "slaw" was, but I knew it was always served cold, so the name made perfect sense to me.

"Liverworst" was different. I LOVED liverwurst, but HATED liver, so I thought this stuff wasn't named very well. After all, "liverworst" wasn't like liver at all. Liver was, in fact, the worst thing I ever tasted.

"Sourkraut" was another one. Oh how I hated that stuff, even the sour smell of it made me gag! I thought that "sourkraut" was named for it's sour smell and obviously sour taste.

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This has been a presentation of Adoro's deepest thoughts and misspelled words that sound like the real ones. Share your own!

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