2020

it's 32° in florida. an insane nor'Easter came through last night, toppling trees and bringing Christmas weather with it. it's cold enough for snow, for the little puddles in the parking lot to be ice, except it's not because the ground is too warm. i will never get over how warm the sun is here in Florida, how well you can feel it in the dead of winter.

i slept with the windows open last night. this morning i decided to make some coffee and go for a walk, donning my boston-bought winter wear that i have almost tossed so many times in the last 3 years of florida. i went slowly, taking it all in - the silence, the magic. Christmas is still magic. i'm not planning on an early morning walk next year because 2020 has proven that things don't have to stay the same for them to be good. there won't be many traditions in my life, moving forward. tradition can be good but it can be an idol of unrealistic expectations leaving disconsolate people in it's wake and reaping ruin on what should be a joyous occasion.

i'm thinking about death right now, how my coffee got cold so quick in my cup, like all earthly things pass away. what is life but loss? we are continually losing things - people, hair, jobs, time, patience. all is lost eventually. the glorious gift of 2020 was the pace of living so slow, each loss was exquisite, each loss was magic. i took my time with each one. would you pass quickly by a perfect snowflake? would you not at least pause to marvel at a perfect sunset or try to capture it in picture? i was fully aware of each loss, took them to heart, wrote them down, honoured them and processed them. i discovered that half of what makes loss sad is how quickly it seems to creep up on me, when in reality the signs were there all along had i not been too busy to notice [or intentionally not noticing]. 2020 i finally learned how to be a good loser. to see loss coming and to hold still in reverence and awe. to let loss happen to me instead of trying to avoid it. to integrate loss into my everyday living, to leave space for the grief, relief, or any other emotions that accompanied it. 2020 i learned how to say goodbye.

i've been a sore loser my entire life. i recite my losses like a litany: the friends i no longer speak to, the dancing i can't do, the trail running that is physically beyond me, the muscle mass i spent years accumulating, the perfect group of friends for camping that have since moved on, the choir i was a part of, the list goes on and on. i hold my hurt close to my chest as i berate God for not healing me. i cry about my pain while refusing to step into it.

no more.

2020 has changed me forever.

nothing is going back to normal.

nothing will ever be the same.

i will make sure nothing stays the same.

i feel so clearly the call to disrupting systems; anarchy is in my bones, in my blood, imprinted next to my baptismal and confirmation marks on my soul. i look at well established order and i think, how beautiful it would be in the breaking, how breathtaking is the falling apart. i want to destroy everything because nothing is supposed to remain unchanged for 50 or even 10 years. earthly existence is like a river, continually flowing, sometimes remaining in the same place, gradually changing over time….but is it the same water? it is not the same water. it is different, every time. nothing gets me going faster than the phrase "this is how it's always been done". i will make sure, it doesn't stay that way. i want - 

just because something is good doesn't mean you shouldn't break it can't change it.

death is my friend.

the ending is my friend.

loss is my friend.

loss was never meant to be a period, a full stop; it is a comma, a gentle separation between an end and a new beginning.

i learn to speak about myself in the third person and apply the same terms to my life. look at rachel, falling apart - isn't she beautiful? look at rachel struggling through 2020 - aren't you mesmerized by how she keeps getting back up after getting knocked down? it must be hard for her. she is doing, such a good job.

but whatever gain i had i counted as loss for the sake of Christ. [philippians 3:7]

happy birthday to the only person born to die. if you need me, i will be making space to mourn the end of advent while celebrating the birth of the Christ Child. it can be both. make it both.

angry

i woke up angry today with this thought on my mind; if a guy cheats on his girl, why does the girl then get mad at the girl he cheated with and not at the guy hiimself?? is it not safe for us as women to express anger towards the male species? is this why we have so much trouble going honestly and vulnerably to God??? (who is, in fact, a man/male figure.) i mean sure, maybe the guy will hear about it but more likely than not, the guy gets forgiven and the girl gets the grudge held against her.

is this how our brains actually work or is this how we have been conditioned to treat each other in society? do i even want the answer to this question??

we're so good at tearing each other down. stalking each other on the internet. giving backhanded compliments. pretending to like each other in public. gossiping about each other, stabbing each other in the back and y'all the only reason i know is because i am good at these things too. it's like i have an affinity for pettiness instead of sainthood and dang it all, men have been sinning since the beginning of time but it is eve whose name is brought up and blamed in Christian circles. are women blameless? no. (although our fair sex is home to the only perfect human just SAYING.) but we catch a lot of undeserved flak and we catch it from each other. every time you slut shame another girl because your "man" (this is debatable) looked at her, you are adding to the problem. every time you exclude a girl, ANY girl, even if you don't know the girl, from your little clique at church, you are adding to the problem. any time you don't invite a mother to your mom's group because you don't like the way she parents her kids, you are adding to the problem.

you. not her. you. (because no one is a problem for existing as who God created them to be.)

you upset with me yet? sweet mercy i hope so. now let's point that anger in the right direction. i know it would be nice to keep it pointing at me or at whoever has wronged you or whoever has done whatever that you want to use as an excuse to dehumanize them but it's not Christian, it's not nice, and you need to get your butt in the confessional and get your act together. remember how confession doesn't actually count unless you are truly sorry AND make a firm purpose of amendment?? a firm purpose of amendment means you are promising God you will make the necessary changes in your life to avoid committing the same sins over and over. you can't confess to excluding someone and then refuse to look at them or talk to them at church on Sunday. or you can, but i surely wouldn't want to be in your shoes when you meet Our Maker. He can read your heart, you know. do you want Him seeing what is written there in regards to some of your sisters in Christ? no? then change it. now. before it's too late because one day, it will be.

so now that i've pissed you off, what should you do with your anger? that's simple and hard: change. righteous anger is meant to move us from passivity into action, to get us off our butts in the face of injustice and make things right. the biggest battles we will ever face are the interior ones, the ones against ourselves.

i prayed the 4th mystery of my rosary this morning for the people who have hurt me, intentionally or otherwise; i prayed the 5th mystery for all the people i have hurt, intentionally or otherwise. it's not a coincidence that both times, more women than men came to mind. it's so easy to be nasty and it's so hard to hold men accountable in this day and age ...so we take our frustrations out on each other. i do too. please stop. please pray for me and help me stop.

we're powerful, you know. we're underestimated, undersold and overlooked. we who sit in the pews faithfully and pray. satan needs us, craves our souls and pits us against each other but we don't need him and we don't have to play his games. i hope i've given you something to think about. let's stop perpetuating the crimes of satan foisted on us by society against each other. we're all victims of the types of behavior i named in this post, all of us. we've got common ground. let's start there.

reputation

i see a rising trend on social media within some Catholic circles of Traditional Latin Catholicism. i don't quite know what to make them. they aren't like any Traditional Latin Catholics i know.  they tweet every time they veil or wear an ankle-length skirt, debate about obscure parts of the Liturgy and quote a lot of Thomas Aquinas. and hashtag incessantly.

if this applies to you or someone you know...y'all seem to have the best intentions but I get the feeling some of you don't really know what you are talking about.

you seem hell bent on proving you are not so different from other Catholics. (as if our church doesn't have it's foundations in diversity, as if our differences don't make us stronger). “See, I veil but I wear pants outside of Mass, I’m normal.”, “Look, I’m smiling, I’m not your typical Traditional Latin Catholic. I'm a #RadTrad” or “I carry a missal but I’m cool enough to hang with outside of Mass”. as a "typical" Traditional Latin Catholic, i resent what is being inplied. underneath these statements, a finger points. that “we” are wrong and y'all are “right”. that something needs changed (us). that there are lines and sides and battles to be won and wars to be fought and Y'ALL! E n o u g h  already.

for people who want to proclaim how traditional they are, i'm amazed how every other thing you say disses the more old school traditionalists. i am also abhorrently against trendifying our most beautiful, beloved faith, so i'm speaking up. (please go easy on the hashtag rage if this applies to you. and for the love of God stop talking about leggings as pants there ARE more important things happening in the world.)

what if i told you the beauty is in our differences? what if i told you that everyone who gets close to us sees the beauty of these bones beneath the stern exterior? what if i told you i don't appreciate your marching in to change the charisms of our Rite on a self-proclaimed mission to help us be less misunderstood? we don't need changed. we are fine with not fitting in. people walked away from Jesus when He was misunderstood and He didn't change to accommodate them, just like people walk away from us when they mistake our reverence for a lack of joy. honestly, i'm quite comfortable with the Rite that has so many parallels to Jesus’ life on earth. the many Traditional Latin Catholics i have known over the course of my life are deeply spiritual people, unfazed by what the world thinks of them. by being unconcerned with the world, we are changing it. After all we attracted you, didn't we? perhaps you could learn from us, to be a little more okay with uncomfortable and a little less obsessed with normalcy. silence is golden, “not all those who wander are lost” and sometimes the very best things are meant to be revered in our hearts, not shouted to the world on Twitter or Instagram.

this isn't meant to be a "you can't sit with us" post, not at all. welcome! welcome to the wonderful world of Traditional Latin Catholicism. maybe you could look with your eyes and not try to touch eeveryyyyything after being here for all of 5 seconds. you're young. enthusiastic. you have good energy. i'm happy you're here. stop trying to change something that's perfectly fine. stop trying to fix something that's not broken. happy to be here? me too. but there are more honest, less harmful/divisive ways to share your joy. and social media shouldn't be the main place you talk about your religion anyways.

my Lover does not lie

let's talk about intimacy
for a hot second
intimacy defined
as
close familiarity or friendship
and

closeness.

intimacy.

we all want
to wake up
with someone next to us
yes
even those of us who have chosen singleness or celibacy
for now or for always
it remains
a desire of the flesh
this body
this reflection
this creation
that bears witness to the endless imagination
and the immeasurable glory of God
not evil
for we were not created evil

our desires are not evil

rather

they are an undeniable fact of life

a witness to this endless longing
this perpetual season of earthly existence
a longing
that speaks
to the longing for the endless intimacy of heaven
where we shall see God
face
to
face
at last
at last
at long, longing last.

the physical longing for intimacy is persistent

in these bones

but not evil

or in need of sanctification.

it comes

and it goes

then it comes back strongly

catching me unaware

then leaves without my noticing

because I do not miss it when it's gone

i do not obsess

over the things of the flesh

i let them be

existing inside of me

i’m not at war with myself

or anyone else

for that matter.

i cried out to a God who answers always
but Whose answers aren't always what i want
i asked to be held
in my sorrow
i asked to be held as i cried
and as i cried
i reminded the God
who made you and me
how hard it is to wake up
day after day
alone
to come home to no one
to make dinner alone
to keep things chaste and holy between friends
to know you are making the right choices
doing as He asks
but to know more deeply still that you need held and comforted
like any mortal girl
for we were made for companionship
we were not created to be alone.

i asked for someone to hold me
i did not know what i was asking for
because i did not know what being held truly meant
but that did not stop God
from answering my prayers
and giving me what i had asked for
even though
i didn't know
what exactly that was.

God was paying attention

to my desires

last night

and He came

He held my heart in His hands

He turned it over

brushing it off carefully

to cleanse it

mindful of reopening any scars

turning it this way

and that

not as a heartless inspection

but to see every part of it

and marvel

in love

of His creation.

then He held me

just held me

so softly

so tenderly

my heart badly needed that hug

He did not disappoint me.

no storm can shake me

no upset

can reach

this inner peace.

this is intimacy

intimacy on God's level

closeness surpassing all sensation

ethereal,

spiritual,

bordering that eternal city

the city

the city of God.

someone holding my heart in His hands

enveloping me

with every part of His being

not suffocating me

coexisting with me

peacefully

aligning Himself with me

as if to lay down

by

my

side

or take my hand in His and hold it

and never

never let it go.

this is the promise of heaven

i hold out in hope of this promise

and i believe there is greater, deeper intimacy to come

more satisfying

and rewarding

than any action

with any man

or any woman

here on earth

the glory of this promise greatly eases the time spent here in the waiting

the promise is real and true

because my Lover told me so

and my Lover

does not lie.

Easter Sunday for the Ants

what must it be like to be an ant and live for your intended purpose, never knowing why but also never wondering. content to be as you are, as He intended you to be. and you know there are giants walking the earth upstairs, and though you are small, sometimes you bite these giants and fight these giants in defense of your tiny little home; it may seem small to them but it is a palace to you.

You never wonder why you exist or where the next meal will come from, but nevertheless, you feel an immeasurable sadness that He will never enter into your home the way the giants receive Him. this glimpse of Eternity is fleeting but it exists due to the closeness of a life lived as God had planned it.

and then. one day. one glorious day, it happens. He is in your home. you don't even notice Him at first because you were so worn out from the day before, a horrible dreadful day. rain that never stopped. earth that shook and shook. you thought you were going to die. you thought everyone was going to die, even the giants. you rushed back and forth trying to save your family, trying to save your food, and all the while, a feeling of immeasurable sorrow ran through the panic. a sense of deprivation and a sense of loss. and gradually you came to understand that, if you were to die, it would be due to sorrow.

but you did not die. He did. He has died, but not really. He has been placed in the earth, and He is so close now, so close you can hardly contain your excitement. the giants think He is dead and gone for good, but they are easily distracted from their true purpose. so while the giants grieve and mourn, you run about as best you can, showing how good you are at what He created you to do. while the giants weep you revel in the gift of a Visitor. and as the giants mourn, you celebrate. you see that He is a giant too but somehow, He fits in your house. the entire earth is your house after all, the entire world, His home.

He tells you He can only stay for a day but that is okay, because everything is different now. it might Holy Saturday for the giants, but today is Easter Sunday for the ants.

I'm Good at being Single

I've been told dozens - likely hundreds, at this point - of times that I'd make a good wife/mother or a good nun. or asked if I've considered either (can we not???).

No one has ever told me I make a great single person. That I'm good at being single. No one has ever told me I'm nailing this whole growing in virtue thing. No one has ever bothered to compliment me on my singleness.

It's almost 1am and I've decided to take issue with that. Watch as I ascend my soapbox. You can't stop me so you might as well come along for the ride.

I'm gonna tell you some things about myself you might already know know but have yet to notice in the proper light.

I don't sleep around.

I attend Daily Mass as often as possible.

I frequent confession.

I live in Adoration.

I have an active prayer life.

I dress decently.

I foster community with other people from all walks of life.

I make time for e v e r y o n e .

I have conversations about sex and being pro life with wary coworkers.

I fast and abstain to supplement my prayer life.

I do my darndest not to cuss!

I do my best to be healthy and take care of my body, my living temple of the Holy Ghost.

Sometimes, I go out and party and have a good time.

Sometimes I stay in and I read or watch TV but if I do, it's nothing raunchy.

I have a killer work ethic.

I am responsible. Dependable. Loyal. Funny. Wierd. Beautiful. all the endless good things...



All this to say, damnit people!!! I do ALL of this and the best you can offer me is "one say you're gonna make a great mom". Stop writing off my now by projecting your future on my life. You're not God and you're not helping anyone, least of all me.

What you are doing is minimizing my living a single life of virtue in an incredibly corrupt world. It's no easy feat. And I am suddenly quite over nobody lauding me for it.

Do you think this is easy? Do you think I appreciate being told all the time I might one day achieve something with my life like what I'm doing right now isn't good, beautiful, true and holy?

Don't tell me what I might be one day. Tell me what you like about who I am right now. Stop stifling my now with your anticipation of the future, it's not going anywhere. But I am. I have to get up and go to work. I have to re enter the world, dodge near occasions of sins constantly and somehow represent Christ to the Godless people I interact with, day to day. The world is a war zone. My mind, a minefield.

I'm trying to be a saint. It's not easy. The least you could do is notice and encourage me.

I'm darn good at being single - why does no one else notice or seem to care?

empty

my name is Rachel Elizabeth. my birthday (May 4th) is the feast of St. Monica. if you're even slightly religious, you might recognize a theme here. a Trinity of holy mothers, if you will.

Rachel means motherly. she was preferred over her older sister Leah, married to the same man as Leah, breathtakingly beautiful...and cursed by God with barrenness as a result of that beauty, so that her shared husband would learn to appreciate his other wife. (while I'm sure Leahs everywhere adore this story, I get hella salty about it). despite this temporary barrenness, she is the mother of nations and an ancestor of Christ.

Elizabeth was also barren for many years. what must it have been like to be a prominent member of the community and have everyone think God was denying you children due to your sin? how many tears did she shed? how many times was she put down by her peers? and yet, she gave birth to a son - the forerunner of Jesus Christ. She is the patron saint of expectant mothers/pregnant women.

Monica was married at a young age to a violent and unpredictable man. she was not barren but she suffered grievously during her lifetime. she is the patron saint of married women, abuse victims, alcoholics, alcoholism, difficult marriages, disappointing children, homemakers, housewives, mothers, victims of adultery, victims of unfaithfulness, victims of verbal abuse, widows and wives.

see a theme here?

motherhood/the desire for motherhood was a glorious cross, for all three of these women who eventually became saints. I see motherhood in my future. I'm not exactly sure what it will look like but I feel in my bones that it won't be ordinary or easy.

I know I desire children far more than I desire a husband (that is to say, not at all). I'd rather hold a baby than a man's hand.

it is a very odd place to be in, desiring children but not marraige. holding space not only for myself but for others like me in the Church comes at a price. I feel that people get frustrated and want me to either go to a convent or settle down, but the desires of my heart are not so easily solved. I could probably put up with a guy as long as I got kids out of the deal, but as we see with Rachel and Elizabeth, kids are no guarantee. And that's no mindset to enter a relationship with either.

in a world that uses women so shamelessly and shamefully, I do find myself tempted to use men. to get back at them. to satiate some petty desire for revenge that comes clawing out of my fractured nature.

children pass through my hands like water; they stay for a little while and then they need to be given back to their families and my arms are empty again. barren. lifeless. and I look at my empty hands and wonder why God would place a desire for motherhood so strongly in my bones without the coinciding desire for companionship that seems to accompany it for everyone else.

I know this post should have been about modesty or religion or something Sunday-ish, but we just celebrated the Visitation and it affected me in some type of way. A teen mom and her elderly cousin visited each other while pregnant. what the hell are the odds of that happening? could it ever happen to me?