Wrinkled Love

Read my [first in a month] post at Ignitum Today! Here's a little to get you started:

This August, I went back to school to learn how better to teach, only partly because the smell of fresh notebooks and sharply pointed pencils fills me with satisfaction.

In my child development class, we learned that children’s brains are incapable of empathizing directly with someone else’s perspective until they reach eight-years-old. They can’t imagine what things must be like in someone else’s mind without injecting all of their own emotions.

It was at this point during the class lecture that I realized I am seven and a half years old.

My beau and I visit a Catholic Church-funded retirement home every month to celebrate the birthday men and women (boys and girls) in that community. Each month the group from our church brings cake, soda, gifts for the month’s birthday folks, and smiling conversation as we spend a little time with people who have little money and little entertainment beyond the confines of the home.

I love spending time with the people I meet there, but I didn’t noticed my lack of perspective until last month’s “birthday party.”

My beau adopted a grandmother, we’ll call her Pearl, who grew out of her sour face mood she held a few years ago and into a sarcastic, yet bubbly demeanor. Ask anyone but my beau and they will tell you it’s because of his attention to her and pushing compassion for her to turn her frown upside down. When I started visiting for these parties with him, I co-adopted her and we’re now a happy group as long as the Parkinson’s and arthritis remains at bay for the day.

Continue reading here.

Crabcakes and Football

Go to ConversionDiary.com for more!

*1*

Slow and steady wins back their blogging brain.

I have exciting news and I'm going to continue writing quick takes until I decide whether or not to tell you....go ahead and guess.

*2*

Have you listened to the Bright Maidens' interview with Pat Gohn yet?

Click to listen to Part 2

In the first one we discussed a myriad of topics that we believe are important to Catholic young adults. In this, the second one, we spent a great deal of time talking about... sex. And virginity, and recycled virginity, and our identity as such.

It really turns into honest girl talk, so men, if you've ever wanted to be a fly on the wall of a sleepover, this is your chance.

*3*

Exciting news hint: it is one reason why I have been posting infrequently/not posting. Seriously, try to guess! #CathSorority girls aren't allowed to guess.

*4*

Click to buy it on Amazon

In the last week, I have listened to my church's 1997 recording of our Song of Mark production at least 20 times. It's a stellar musical and I highly recommend buying the CD and/or asking your music minister if they'd consider producing this play at your parish.

I know all of the people with lead roles, so I'm tempted to go to Mass on Monday and embarrass them with compliments about how I have their voices stuck in my head.

One of the children in the production who had a solo is one of my oldest friends and was 10 years old when her beautiful little voice sang the Good News. She now has a three-year-old girl and a month-old baby boy.

Time flies.

*5*

My cousin and her awesome boyfriend had a fun idea for a wedding present with a personal touch. Cousin's-Awesome-Boyfriend salvaged and split a beautiful piece of wood, so that it has a flat surface for painting.

Selfishly, I'm eager to help them because it will help me get back into painting and creating art. They want me to paint a big crab on this, similar to the picture, and insert the words "Crabcakes and football: That's what Maryland DOES!"

My canvas. Wood, I'm turning you into a crab.

What a creative wedding gift! I'm sure they'll get a kick out of it. I'll post some pictures of my progress later.

*6*

My exciting news will compel me to move to a different city. Bittersweet.

I decided I'd reveal my exciting news in its own post. So guess, guess, guess!

*7*

Don't forget to join the Bright Maidens for this week's topic on stay-at-home-moms and working-out-of-the-home moms.

In case you were wondering, we had this one planned before Lent began, so it's a coincidence that the whole Ann Romney/Hilary Rosen thing blew up recently. You're welcome to reflect on that, if you haven't already, but that wasn't our aim.

Trista's post, "On Motherhood"
Lynsey's post, "WOHM vs. SAHM"
Mandi's post, "Stay at Home Mom vs. Working Mom"
Lisa's post, "The Best Job in the World"

Don't step on the crack, you'll break your mother's back

How to convince someone to be pro-choice. Or better yet, how to convince someone to be pro-abortion:

Get them addicted to crack.

Consequently, crack numbs their value of life over death by making fuzzy that line between reality and their next high. This allows them to see murder in a justified light, if the chips fall in your favor.

No, not all abortion advocates rode the train to Pro-Choice Town by smoking a rock. But their mindsets are similar and they both reached the not-so-equilibrium of murder on their terms. This is the crux of the pro-choice argument. If someone feels it's okay to murder their baby, then it should be okay.

I watched "The Fighter" the other day and was blown away by the performances. Producer Mark Wahlberg is a daily Mass, Latin Mass Catholic who generously funds the Church and programs in his hometown. Though many of you know that, it's a surprise to others considering the number of F-bombs dropped in each of his productions. He knows what he's doing, you'll see.

Christian Bale's performance, in particular, really drove home the character of a crack-addicted, family man who selfishly fools his mother into believing he's still her little boy even after he spends two weeks in a crack house, high as a kite.

Click to watch the documentary, "High on Crack Street." Viewer discretion advised.

I was so fascinated by the idea of gangs of people who do nothing but work toward their next fix, either by stealing, prostitution, or get-rich-quick schemes, that I found the documentary portrayed in the Hollywood version of this true life story. The Wahlberg film showed an HBO film crew following around the older brother of Mark Wahlberg's boxer character. It turns out this HBO flick was a special on the effect of crack cocaine on a small town and its inhabitants on a community and an individual level.

I couldn't resist finding and watching the documentary that same night. It was like watching a turtle take the first few steps toward a busy highway. I could follow the patterns, see the monotonous progression, and witness the determination of these folks to spend their lives getting high, but I could also see where they were headed. These addicts couldn't hear the oncoming cars over the call of the pipe.

Three of the most conversely pro-life moments I have ever witnessed in my life stood out (minute 10:25 through 13:55; and 34:22 through 36:31; and 37:11 through 39:25).

One woman, Brenda, who speaks as if she's a sociologist explaining the habitat of the addicts seconds before taking a drag on her homemade crack pipe, turned to prostitution to pay for her habit. Her strange, sexual business partners opt for "safe sex," but the man who loves her (and his crack pipe and dirty needles) doesn't like condoms. She gets pregnant and states that it is time for an abortion.

How do you convince someone to be pro-life?

Let them watch a 20-year-addicted, toothless woman breakdown her confidence in her "right-to-choose" as a trigger for the memory of her first abortion. Her mother forced her to have an abortion as  a 15-year-old and Brenda sobbed about her intense emotional pain, dealing with the fact that she "murdered her baby." Continue reading at IGNITUM TODAY.

Our bleeding hearts

For the first time in 2012, I'm posting over at IGNITUM TODAY:

"Do you think they want to die? Tell me, do you think the people training the suicide bombers want to die? Do you? Do you think they want to die?”

The inquisitor exacerbated his vile prodding by point his finger a few inches from my face. Such are the consequences we face by standing up for our faith in this country.

Last week I travelled to the 2012 Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) for my job. I was charged with standing by our booth display, meeting and greeting as many people as possible, and passing out free swag.

It was invigorating to meet so many new people in four days, but exhausting to let my head back in the political banter realm I’ve been avoiding for more than a year.

Rick Santorum, Newt Gingrich, and Mitt Romney spoke at this 12,000+ attendee conference, spouting about conservative values and carefully reserving more folks for their niche of supporters through careful speechwriting. Many Catholic bloggers out here have thrown their support behind one candidate or another, as if voting for any of them would come without conscience reservations at the ballot box.

As seen at CPAC - seriously.

For this reason, and for a simple and juvenile refusal to accept that this is the best we can do, I have gone on a light political fast. However, “tabling” at this event, swarming with frustrated and energized conservatives, put a temporary end to my poli-diet. CPAC week was a steady build up of anxiety in reaction to the constant complaints about Obama, the loyalty to the firearm, and the debates between sticker-wielding supporters of Romney, Newt, and Santorum.

I found myself in the tough position of agreeing with many talking points being passed around, but strongly disagreeing with so many others. I'm Catholic, not R, D, or L.

All-in-all it started to wear on me.

Read about it here...

Carrying Baby Jesus into Christmas Mass

Dust off the cameras and projectors, pull out the forgotten chairs, and unpack several dozen more sleeves of wafers: Christmas is almost here! With Christmas comes the perhaps temporary, reverse diaspora of many of God’s people.

Time to shake off the dust to let the Light shine through ourselves. We’ve been preparing for this, friends!

Sometimes Advent feels more like a rat race through increased traffic and higher credit card bills than a time of preparation for the coming of our Savior. I have filled too many of my adulthood Advents with inconsequential priorities that stomp out the importance of the season until Christmas Eve arrives.

Even on Christmas Eve I have found myself frustrated that my family must be dressed and in the car almost two hours before Mass begins in order to secure a seat. These “fair weather” attendees make me feel crowded, I’m ashamed to say I have thought.

This is the opposite attitude I should have when celebrating the birth of the Christ who came to save all of us.

This year, in an effort to pump up my prayer life, I will welcome the claustrophobia as the opportunity it is! There I will be, facing a packed room of new people to speak to! Consider taking this twice-a-year chance to meet these new people. They might consider coming to Mass more often if they found a sense of community at church and it’s our job to introduce them to it.

Imagine what it must be like to walk into church for the first time in nine months, picking a seat surrounded by silence on a day signified by joy. It would be hard to muster the courage to reach out at your premiere Mass — and sometimes the second opportunity doesn’t come. Let’s talk to them now.

Read more at IGNITUM TODAY!

Souls in a storm

I'll hang on to my excuses over my missing Bright Maidens post and my absence for now.... several months ago Michelle from Catholic Unveiled asked me to help her fill some space on her blog while she served others with her big heart in Mexico. Here is my contribution that she published today:

On December 22, 2010, I woke up to one of the worst phone calls that I have ever received.On April 10 of this year I woke up feeling like someone was tugging on my throat and swinging from it like it tolled the bell in a tower. I knew she had left us.

I’ve become very familiar with funerals, the abundance of food, and handshakes over the last nine months. My great aunt died unexpectedly in November (four days before Thanksgiving), my maternal grandfather died a month later (three days before Christmas), and my paternal grandmother died a week before Palm Sunday.

An additional handful of friends and family have died since last November, placing me and my family in nine funeral Masses during the last nine months.

Someone who has to repeat outfits at the funeral home cannot easily avoid the big questions about what he or she believes about souls and life after Earth. Our logical, rational mind can get bogged down for the quest for answers to this question.

Logic and rationale are beautiful gifts of the mind; they are often helpful and the means by which we discover Truth. However, we can’t forget to think about where the rubber meets the road, especially when this vehicle is carrying a full load of grief and fear.

We are the Church, members of the Communion of Saints. When Christ conquered death and resurrected, He unified the Church beyond the weakened lines of Earthly death.

The readings for August 7 highlighted this bond and exemplifies the attendance of God in every part of our lives.

In moments of weakness, I catch myself assuming that God was only truly present with the prophets, among the Apostles, and the first disciples. Elijah had a direct telephone line to God, Moses saw Him several times, the Twelve followed Him around for three years, and then saw Him in the Upper Room after His death.

Of course they believed, I rant, their faith grew daily in His strong, factual presence.

We don’t get that luxury, I think in my self-pitying mindset. We just have to believe God cares enough to pull us out of the storm when we fall below the water’s surface.

“A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD— but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake— but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire— but the LORD was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.” -1 Kings 19:11-13

God came to Elijah in the calm.

Read more....

Spontaneous Catholics

VirtuousPla.net is now Ignitum Today! And now that the pixels have realigned at the new address, it's safe to share this with you (Please go LIKE the new Facebook page here):

“I know Catholics aren’t exactly known for being spontaneous…” my priest said to a chorus of laughter.

This morning’s Thanksgiving Day Mass took a turn for the unexpected when the conclusion of our priest’s homily called for an open forum among the community. He asked the 100 or so in the congregation to “go around the table” and shout out that which we are thankful for on this Thanksgiving Day.

Immediately I winced, not because I didn’t like the idea, but because I lacked faith in the bravery of my brethren. We’re Catholic, after all. We like tradition, camaraderie and (sometimes sadly) the norm.

Thus, when the first shout out in gratitude for our close community came from the music pit, my anxiety faded. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I belong to, perhaps, the greatest community of believers I’ve known.

We’re not the most traditional (we don’t have kneelers or altar servers), we’re not the most pious, but the 1300 sq. ft. commons area outside the sacristy is a-buzz with chatting families and loud voices left over from the previous Mass within minutes of a later Mass beginning.

Read more at Ignitum Today...

Traveling with Purpose

Tie your running shoes to the outside of your bag before the security lines to save space and wear slip off shoes for ease of removal. Keep your 3-1-1 liquids bag in an outside pocket. Have your ID and boarding pass in one hand and your laptop in the other, prepared to grab two plastic bins.

Fill this place with LIGHT

Much of the last two years of my life have been spent in airports or en route to a different location for work. The quirks of traveling have become habit. I am not as mechanical as Clooney in Up in the Air, but I'm good at the routine.

In the first few trips I took for my job, I concentrated on looking like a professional traveler instead of interacting with others along the way. I was always courteous and kind, I would even strike up a few chats:

"Is this seat taken?" "No, no, it's all yours!" or "I think I'm in the seat on the other side of you." "Okay, no problem, I'll get up!" I was really reaching people to the core.

Airplanes always seem like temporary time machines to me. I get on the plane, sit for X hours and then get off, knowing I might bump into that lady in the restroom or that guy in the line for coffee. We'll probably never see each other again.

It reminds me of how many people on Earth I will never know.

Read more at VirtuousPla.net....

Being nun the wiser

With the help of a winky face, Sister Lisa challenged me to reach into the deep end of my spirituality.

Her honest and beautiful approach to a recent wedding led to a curiosity of my perspective on the possibility of religious life today. The winky face was for effect.

Other than the occasional pop culture reference, the majority of my childhood exposure to women in religious life was at family events (several non-habit-wearing nuns in my family) and from the 1966 classic, The Trouble with Angels. If you have never seen this film (shame on you), I suggest you stop reading.

The goofiness of 1960s films culminates in this story about a trouble-maker and her partner in crime. These teenage "captives in a nunnery" spend three years throughout the movie at a boarding school populated by nuns and other teen girls. Heads butt and rules break at every turn.

By the grace of God, after a lot of trial and much more error, the trouble-maker comes to understand a purpose in self-sacrifice, especially that which it takes to be a religious sister.

 



"But how could you give it up?" Mary presses. Reverend Mother smiles and says, "I found something better."

Read more at VirtuousPla.net...

Easier than you think

Today is day 183 of the romantic relationship with my beau. Six months, half an anniversary, the six-mensiversary, a nanoversary, halfaversary, something somewhat silly to celebrate. Or is it?

Rather than swoon to you about the awesome man in my life, I thought I'd take a crack at how we got here. How did I land a great, Catholic man who wants to grow in Christ with me? Where did I go right that God would present me with someone who truly wants to discern God's plan? What help can I possibly be to others with only six months under my belt?

How we got here

Whenever people "give advice" to single people from their [haughty] chairs, it often inspires temptation of mild violence. I hope to avoid that.

Love his face

I've known my beau for almost three years now, so our road has been a long one with a large percentage of a friendship-only identity. We met in a young adult club. I can hear the sound of facepalms everywhere:

Of course you met at church! I've already tried that! I exhausted my pool there, give me another direction!

Remember that the majority of our relationship has been strictly friendship; we surprised each other as we became better friends. "Hey! Where have you been?"

A little over a year ago, after a series of weekly dinners in a group of church friends, several non-church-related events, and many email exchanges, my beau and I became great friends. We became best friends.

Then, despite my best efforts to control my mind (like nailing warm butter to a wall), I looked up one day and realized I had a big crush on my best friend.

Believe me when I say the "trust in God," "it happens when you least expect it," "you have to be happy being alone before you can be happy with someone else" cliches bugged me to no end. So as not to cause another wave of facepalms I won't explicitly say those cliches are mostly true... I'll just hint at it.

Get to the practicalities before I click out of this post.


Read more at VirtuousPla.net... I promise, I really give practical points.

Traveling within the Church

The lovely Allie of Here is the Church has graciously allowed me to post on her blog about a church I found in Victoria, British Columbia. Don't worry, I don't go overboard on my curious love for all things Canadian:

America is never more divided than on the topic of Canada.

Perhaps that was an overstatement, but I often laugh at the split opinion amongst Americans when speaking about Canada. The majority of the United States is ignorant about the Great White North, but that doesn't stop them from having opinions about it:

Why isn't it the 51st state in the union? Isn't that where snow comes from? Hockey, eh?

Personally, I have a fervent, yet random love for Canada. After all, the first novel I read was the Prince Edward Isle-set Anne of Green Gables. That can make a big impact on a girl. 

It has always fascinated me to think there is an English-speaking country just north of us. When I met several Canadian friends a few years ago, I realized they are so much different than Americans, despite our similar language. Eh?

This summer, I took my first step on Canadian soil and I wish I had a Bryan Adams song to sing for you to commemorate it. I traveled all the way to Seattle for work, where my boyfriend flew out and toured around with me.

We spent a full day on the ferries and in Victoria, British Columbia solidifying my opinion of Canada:

Canada is much like the offspring of America and Europe, while still having its own, unique atmosphere. 

After several hours of walking around the beautiful, tourist-filled city of Victoria, my boyfriend and I stepped into the first Catholic church we found to sit in front of the Blessed Sacrament. Lo and behold, I think we found one of Victoria's most popular and beautiful churches, St. Andrew's Cathedral.

According to their website, St. Andrew's Cathedral was dedicated on October 30th, 1892.

The red carpet gave it a homey, small church feel, but the size prevented that perspective from taking over. It was the perfect metaphor for the Catholic Church: not only could we walk in there, worshiping the same God, but we could sit in front of the same Sacrament in a busy city, and still feel a "small town" tug.

More pictures and WORDS at Allie's blog!