(Catch me, I'm) Falling

It is the duty of every professed blogger to write about things they feel they should share with the world or things they think God wants them to share with other people, even if they aren't necessarily excited about doing so. This post falls into the latter category.

Telling people about an encounter with God always leaves me a little breathless with butterflies inside, slightly scared about the reaction I might receive and suddenly doubtful as to whether it really was as incredible and awesome as I thought it was. What if it was all in my head? is the question that plagues my mind whenever I want to tell people about the very real God who exists and is working miracles in my life. But that fear is a temptation of the devil, an attempt to keep me silent. So help me defeat the devil and read a cool story about the awesomeness of God.

Prologue

This story actually has a little bit of a back story. The day before this story happened was the day our half of camp was doing the high/low ropes courses, mostly located a short walk from the main buildings. They divided up the girls and guys; girls did high ropes first while guys did the low ropes and then we switched after lunch. The high ropes involved a lot of trust building and team work; the low ropes were involved again around trusting in the people around you, but also in communicating with your "community" (the people in the group with you that stood for your community back home), about how you needed them and what you needed from them.

We did a trust fall. There was a platform one of us climbed onto while everyone stood on the other side, waiting to catch whoever was falling. A series of commands had to be said every time. The "faller" had to ask Are you ready? and everyone else responded Ready!, then the faller had to say I trust you, to which everyone else responded Trust us, fall on!, which brings us to the last and possibly most important command of all. The faller would then say Falling! and then fall. If they didn't say falling, we didn't know when they might possibly fall backward off the platform and there would be the possibility of us dropping them. We carried off the trust fall without a hitch, not dropping a single person. After we completed the rest of the low ropes courses, we headed back to the chapel for a small group session before cleaning up for Mass later on.

During the small group, our summer missionary (Angelina) asked the girls to share a spiritual highlight of the day; a lot of the girls mentioned the trust fall and how it had made them feel. When it was her turn, Angelina brought it up too; she hadn't done the trust fall with us (she was overseeing it to make sure everything went smoothly), but said she loved talking people through it, seeing them overcome their fear of falling/lack of trust in their partners and most importantly, seeing the way communication impacted how all of the low ropes activities went for our group. She had this habit of being profound when I least expected it and this day was no exception.

She repeated the various commands she had had us say and emphasized the last one before telling the whole group how important communication about falling was. She told the nine teenage girls sitting around her that she, personally, was bad at communicating when she was falling, that she tended to tell people after she had already fallen and by then it was sometimes too late for friends and family to help her when they could have if she had been more open before. My community can't catch me if I don't communicate that I'm falling. 

Are you ready? - Ready!
I trust you. - Trust us, fall on! 
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Falling!

The Story of My Three-fold Miracle

It was early Friday (like 7-ish-am) morning in a small chapel in the mountains in Northern Georgia. (Do I still have your attention? Good.) Birds were chirping, sunshine was pouring through the windows and Jesus was there, present in the Holy Eucharist, as I prayed during the holy half hour that the summer missionaries had every morning, followed by morning prayer. I had been curled up on the floor in one of the pews - I am one of those people who likes to approach God with my head covered and my feet bare, preferably as close to the ground as possible - praying and trying to summon the strength to be ready for the day. I was chaperoning a group of youth group kids for a week at a Life Teen Camp and I was feeling emotionally and spiritually drained. Being around large groups of people I don't know didn't help either. I am an introvert which means on some level the entire week was a terrifying ordeal for me.

Morning prayer started and I pulled myself off the ground to a standing position. The missionary sharing my pew with me was already lending his breviary to someone else but he looked around and got another one of the missionaries to lend me their's so I could follow along. I prayed the psalms aloud, listened to the readings and tried to convince myself God could hear me. I knelt and sang in that chapel, surrounded by some of the kindest, friendliest people I had ever met who all believed in the same things I did, feeling completely alone. I listened to the people around me state their various prayer intentions out loud and asked God where He was in my life at that moment. Because I could feel nothing except an empty void surrounding me.

My question got answered by the guy on the opposite side of the chapel from me, two rows in front of where I was sitting. I didn't recognize the guy - there were two hundred and fifty people at the camp that week I believe, not counting the people who ran it - but I am going to remember him for the rest of my life. He spoke out clearly, stating his prayer intention: I pray for everyone with depression and anxiety, that they would feel Jesus' arms around them and know they are loved. (Note: I don't remember the exact words of the second half of his intention because I was so stunned, but this is pretty close to what they were.) I was astonished. I actually caught my breath, which I am sure the people around me heard. God spoke to me through the mouth of someone I never knew, never met and will likely never see again but He heard me in my moment of need and answered me. It was the first part of my three fold miracle. Thought the story was over? Wait. There's more.

Fast forward to that night and I am sitting at parish pow-wow with my fellow chaperone (Luke), the kids from our church and the summer missionary (Angelina again, y'all) who was assigned to our parish for the week. At the end of the day we asked the kids to share a highlight from the day and spiritual highlight if they had one. We were going around in a circle, stating what our favorite parts of the day had been. On my turn, I felt a prompt from the Holy Spirit, telling me to share what had happened earlier in the chapel with my group. I didn't necessarily want to. I wanted to keep my miracle to myself, between me and God, but I am so glad now that I listened to that voice in my heart.

Opening up to people is never easy. Telling people about your weaknesses and struggles is always difficult and opening up to teens is not usually something I am ever comfortable with doing. I stepped out in faith, shakily at first, not making eye contact and probably talking way too fast for anyone to understand me, telling them about my ongoing struggle with anxiety and depression, how I was feeling that morning in the chapel and finally how God had used someone I didn't know to speak life and love to me and let me know everything was going to be okay and that He was there listening. My burning desire to let the kids see how beautifully God can work through people overcame my fear of talking about myself as I told the story and I stopped shaking in my shoes as I finished. We were moving on to the next person when Angelina interrupted, saying she had something to add and that's when I got my second part of my little miracle. She said in the six weeks she had been going to morning prayer, it was easy to guess who was going to pray for what and that she had never heard that prayer intention until that morning. For the second time that day, I was speechless. If I had disregarded that voice in my heart, I never would have known that and the second - and third! - parts of my miracle wouldn't even exist. I thanked her for sharing and we moved on to the next person's highlight but for me, that night kind of stood still, that moment replaying over and over in my mind.

The next morning, I got the third part of my miracle. My partner in crime and fellow chaperone for the week was sitting next to me during morning prayer, and for his prayer intention, he prayed for everyone who felt alone. (Again, I don't remember every single word, but I remember how they resounded in my heart.) My community can't catch me if I don't communicate that I'm falling. I communicated, opened up when I normally would have stayed silent and God worked through two people (Luke and Angelina) who I hardly knew to continue my little miracle for me, a miracle that started with a guy I will never know the name of.

The whole experience was incredibly humbling and encouraging. I thank God I was able to accept His invitation to be vulnerable so He could show me the beauty in sharing about my weaknesses. I shared it with a good friend when I got back and then with my manager the next day and then I realized that despite my shortcomings as a human being and as a story teller, this story is too good to keep to myself and God wants me to tell people about it. Thanks for reading <3

Weaknesses

To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.

 Criss Jami

(Pause. Open a new tab on your web browser, go to youtube and start playing "Beneath Your Beautiful" by Labrinth ft. Emeli Sandé. And then read this post.)

Hey y'all. Rachel here again (yes, on my own blog. Whaaaat.) with some more talk about my weaknesses and vulnerabilities. It might seem like this is all I talk about because I am the textbook human distaster; it is hard for me to let you see beneath my exterior. Which makes it hard for me to truly love each of you as I should, as Jesus calls us to.

I have had the priveledge of having bad things happen to me; it sucks but it puts me in the rare position of being able to empathize with just about anybody. To care about everyone, whether I want to or not. I cried on the way to work last week after seeing a motorcycle accident, praying for the families of everyone involved; because I know what it is like to be in that position. Because I've loved and I've lost.

I'm not really one to talk about myself. To share my struggles. To let people in. My walls are there for my own protection yes but more importantly, they are there to protect the people around me. I am always scared something will creep out of my dark places and hurt someone I love. The role of being the strong protector is an easy one to sign on to; the role of being a weeping, broken, ordinary human being is not.

It is hard for me to understand how contradictions like my vulnerabilities being my strength is even possible. But anyone knows in this crazy thing called life, you have to play to your strengths. And to do that, I have to make myself vulnerable. Not by flaunting my scars, but maybe by letting you see them a little more frequently. By letting you see that I am hurting too. By showing you what makes me me.

I feel an incredible pull towards vulnerability this year; last year was the year I faced a lot of my fears and felt stronger by the end of it. Now the Lover of My Soul is calling me to let go of that sense of strength, dear as it is to me, and abandon myself to Him through my weaknesses. I can't do it alone but hopefully with Him filling in the gaps I can do an acceptable job. Hopefully. My confidence is in Him rather than in myself and that, too, is an acknowledgement of a weakness that makes me stronger than I would be on my own.

As always, dear friends, thank you for being with me on this journey of life. Thank you for letting me see beneath your beautiful. For showing me your scars. You being open with me is inspiring and encouraging on such a deep level it is hard for me to find the words to express it.

The post-Whole30 post (or that time I jumped on the bandwagon)

Kk. Gimme a second to catch my breath because I have a hard time talking slow when I am telling people about something that excites me. *breaths deeply* Alright y'all. Here we go.

So as most of y'all know, my two roommates and I did the whole 30 a little while back. We actually finished the day before Valentine's Day, but life being what it is, I haven't had a moment to write about it until now.

I'm going to be honest with y'all. The only reason that I did this was because my lovely roommate Sarah was doing it and we try to eat meals together at night, taking turns with the cooking and such. So since all of our dinners were gonna have to be Whole 30, Deborah and I decided we might as well just all do it together. I had no idea what I was getting myself in to.

We started off strong - the headache that comes with craving refined sugar was terrible but after that went away and the first week was done, I felt like I had my sea legs (so to speak) and that Whole 30 was nothing to be afraid of. Meal prep was killer (especially if you forget to thaw out meat like I do), but we were eating waaaaaay better than normal, spending less on food, and having to make last minute trips to the store less and less. Since I didn't have a full-time job at the time, I took on the bulk of the cooking; I am pretty fast at chopping veggies now and I feel like as long as I have a little Italian seasoning, I can make a meal out of anything.

Whole 30 taught me how to cook, or rather, it forced me to learn how to cook. I cooked spaghetti squash for the first time. I struggled with making casseroles that involved no Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup or shredded mixed cheese. I made things up and then internally cringed as my ever-trusting roommates put the first bites into their mouths, wondering how quickly they would reject my cooking (they never did). I am now eternally grateful that Frankies Hot Sauce is made with Whole 30 approved ingredients. Also, Whole 30 taught me that potatos are my best friends.

We have some favorite meals from Whole30 that we plan on making again; tacos (on the menu for tonight), stuffed peppers (my personal favorite) and then who could forget the delicious chicken fajitas?? We are still searching through food labels, checking the ingredients list to make sure there isn't any gluten, corn or sugar hidden inside. We are still doing our best to have one meal together a day. We are still going through a crazy amount of eggs. We are still eating pretty dang close to Whole30.

So, what did I think of Whole 30? I LOVED IT!!!! It was amazing!!!! The biggest differences I noticed were my skin and how my clothing fits SO much better than it did before. My skin, especially on my face, looks phenomenal. I have been complimented on my skin/my complexion my whole life but now I am telling you, it looks/feels 100% better than it used to. Someone told me I had a "healthy glow"; I'll tell you right now, I wasn't much for wearing makeup before the Whole 30 and I see even less of a need to do so now. Makeup has truly become for fun for me and I wouldn't have it any other way.
As far as the clothing thing goes, this is where I am going to tell you about my weight loss.....*drumroll* I lost 19lbs on the Whole 30!!!!! YES. I. REALLY. DID. I am kind of really excited about this, although I don't think the numbers are completely accurate. I was working out/running consistantly the entire Whole 30 and we all know muscle weighs more than fat. I know I gained quite a bit of muscle (okay, I am actually REALLY in love with my calves/quads haha), so I am thinking I lost a good deal more than 19lbs...but since I feel so awesome now, I don't mind too much about not knowing. (Sort of.)

My main advice to you would be do the Whole 30, even if you think you can't afford it, or you don't want to do it or you don't see the point. Just freaking do it. You will be happy you did afterwards. Also, do it with someone if you can. My Whole30 experience was very positive AND I believe much easier than a lot of other people's because I had 2 other people doing it right alongside me.

Regrets? None. What did I miss the most? Alchohol and ranch dressing; neither of them taste quite right anymore either but I am trying not to let that bother me. Actually I have only had ranch once since the end of the Whole 30 and I was so let down by the way it tastes to me now, I think I am over it. (Yes you read that correctly.)

The Whole 30 was a wakeup call, one I didn't know how badly I needed it. I believe as a practicing Catholic that my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit; I seek to glorify God through everything I do (what I say, think, ect.) and now through what I eat. Because God gave me this body and it is my duty to care for it and nurture it the best way I know how; life is a gift and not something that should be taken lightly or just thrown away. I have jumped on the bandwagon. I am completely committed to a healthier lifestyle. I am happy. I feel good. I look amazing (if I do say so myself). It was worth it.

Shall We Dance?

I was at a party with a group of friends a few nights ago and none of the guys asked me to dance.

{^probably half the texts I have ever sent to my girlfriends started like this. Okay, maybe just a third. Given how often I text, this is still an alarmingly high number.}

I know, I know. It seems pretty drab for an opening but hey, replace “party” in that sentence with “wedding reception” “bar” or any other event that dancing happens...still fits eh? And none of the guys asked me to dance. Feeling uncomfortable yet? A little hot under the collar? No? What about feeling a little sorry for the girls you’ve never asked to dance but knowing they are bettter off without that particular experience? If this last explanation is you, this blog post is for you.

Okay so, guys, I’m gonna give it to you straight. Girls love being asked to dance. Even if she says no, even if she’s on crutches, even if she’s 90 years old, if she is a female and at a social function where dancing is happening she wants to be asked to dance. It doesn't matter how old she is. It doesn't matter if she is physically capable of dancing. It doesn't matter if she knows how to dance. It doesn't matter if you think she's going to judge you. It doesn't matter if you hate her. It doesn't matter if you feel like the biggest idiot in the world going over there and putting your pride on the line and asking her to dance. She is going to be extremely grateful and flattered that you did so. You will make her day. You might even end up making her year.

My main point has been made but I will repeat it just for clarity’s sake; If you are at a social function where dancing is involved, every living, breathing female in that room wants to be asked to dance. Which brings us to the next point or more aptly named, the list of insecurities to address.

You see, I am convinced there are only a few main reasons why guys fail to ask girls to dance more often. 1) They are afraid to ask. 2) They are afraid to be told no. 3) They aren’t confident in their dancing capabilities.

Gentlemen, please allow me to try and alleviate these fears to the best of my ability.

1)They are afraid to ask. Well this reason was a no-brainer. In fact, this reason is also the reason guys don't ask girls out, don't ask for their numbers, don't do a lot of things girls wish they would do... But that is beside the point at the moment. Right now we are talking about how it affects their interactions with girls in a social setting that involves dancing. You see a girl standing there, maybe talking to her friends (probably venting to said friends about not being asked to dance) and you don’t want to go over there and ask, especially not with an audience. Guys, this is nothing to be ashamed of. I can't think of a single girl that would want to walk across the room, up to a guy surrounded by his friends and ask him to dance with her. We get it. It’s tough. But since it happens so rarely, we can’t sit around alone in an attempt to be more approachable on the chance someone might ask us to dance. Sitting on the sidelines at a wedding reception with your besties and still having a good time is very different from sitting alone on the sidelines and thinking about how awful and lonely your life is. Plus, we are wearing uncomfortable shoes, stiff and formal dresses and we spent hours agonizing over our makeup and hair…..to look good….for you. And now we have to sit alone to make ourselves more approachable? It’s not going to happen. I don’t have any advice, just encouragement. If she is breathing and not currently on the dancefloor, she wants to be asked to dance. If that’s not encouraging, I don’t know what is.

Okay, reason two; 2)They are afraid to be told no. Well geez, aren’t we all afraid of rejection? I mean it’s a dance. You aren’t proposing for heaven’s sake. You are giving a girl the time of her life for an average of 2 minutes; that has got to be one of the shortest social contracts of all time (it is MUCH more tedius to be stuck in a conversation with no polite exit!!!) and it costs you nothing but a little anxiety. You don’t have to talk to the girl. You don’t have to look at her. You don’t even have to know her!!! Think about how easy it would be for you to ask a girl to dance (or ask her out or get her number or whatever) if you did it frequently enough to where you were used to it. Hopefully she will say yes and if you happen to ask me or one of my friends (gorgeous people that they are), you’re gonna be the envy of every other man in the room. Over time, the yeses would probably surprise and please you and the no’s wouldn’t bother you anymore. Now, I know that some people aren't that gracious when they are rejecting you and I'm sorry for that - truly I am - but I don’t think the rest of us girls should suffer because of a few ungrateful ones. I really don’t. So stop punishing us because Thelma back in 8th grade refused to dance with you at spring formal.

You will be told no. I have told guys no before. Actually, I refused to dance with my future brother-in-law (although I didn’t know it at the time) at a good friend’s wedding. Why, you ask? Because I am insecure in my own dancing capabilities!! The lights weren’t dimmed on the dancefloor yet and I freaked out because I really suck at dancing. So if a girl tells you no when you ask her to dance, it could just be because she is scared to. I can tell you right now that I instantly regretted it and if he had come back and asked me a second time later on, I would have said yes. Just some food for thought. Girls sometimes need to work up their courage too.

Which brings us to 3, possibly the toughest one of all. 3)They aren’t confident in their dancing capabilities. Well there is the obvious answer; make an effort to learn. Rent DVDs from the library, ask a good friend, take a class….the possibilites are endless and dancing is fun. If you express an interest, you will find people willing to teach you or learn with you.

I danced once at the wedding of my best friend with her younger brother. He asked me to dance and I said yes. He led me onto the dancefloor. He had just learned the basic swing step from the maid of honor and we did that in the same spot, back and forth and side and side over and over again for a full three minutes and you know what? It was fun. And when it was over, he led me off the dancefloor like a proper gentleman and I thanked him for the dance and you know what guys? He was 17. Let that sink in for a minute. You know what else? I didn’t say yes because I felt obligated or felt sorry for him. I wanted to dance and so I did and that memory stands out as the highlight of that wedding reception because he is the only guy who asked me to dance that night (and for all I know, his mother made him). Now let that sink in. Does my life sound a little sad and pathetic? It’s not as sad and pathetic as y’all letting a teenager upstage you.

I am going to close this out by saying that I have been to a lot a few wedding receptions/parties/bars. And I can count on 2 hands the amount of times I have been asked to dance. I have stepped on guy’s feet, had my feet stepped on by the guy, flat out (accidentaly) tripped my partner, felt like a fool and have had bruises the next day on my sides from a guy who was “leading” a little too enthusiastically. Yet these are my glory stories, the times I save to tell my girlfriends when they are down about never getting asked...yes, it does happen and one day it will happen to you too.

Be my heros, guys. Make it happen.

Give My Heart a Break

This isn't the next post I had planned on writing but life happens and I found this on my heart tonight instead.

One of the biggest things that has happened to me this past year was breaking up with my boyfriend of two and a half years. (Actually, the year mark of this happening is about to come up. But maybe since it's only been 10 months, 15 days, 22 hours, 33 minutes and 59 seconds since we broke up, I am being a bit hasty in saying a year. But perhaps not?)

Maybe my quoting the exact date and time seems melodramatic to you. I assure you it is anything but. That date is seared into my memory, probably for the rest of my life. And before you tell me how young I am or how time is a great healer, I would like to stop you kindly before I punch you in the throat.

I know 23 isn't an old-age; to some it seems very young. To me, it does not. Especially not when it comes to this past year. Indeed, whenever I find myself thinking about my relationships and relation to my age, I feel thoroughly disheartened. Discouraged. Dismayed. Disappointed. Surely, if I am so young, aren't I too young to have suffered this much heartbreak? Maybe I am biased in favour of true love and happiness but I think everyone is too young to have this happen to them. Age is so irrelevant when it comes to those we truly love. I have never used age as a line to draw between friends or family and I don't think it is wise or fair to try and apply it to heartbreak.

I know time is a great healer. I have seen it do some pretty amazing things. Believe me, I have done an incredible amount of healing in the past 10 and a half months. Right now though, I can't wish for more. I still catch myself remembering I am single now with the start of surprise. It's not that I don't believe time can help me. Rather, my being told it can help me so frequently is less than helpful. Whenever someone says that, I am left wondering if I am wrong, somehow, for still having all these feelings and emotions. For feeling lost when I catch myself thinking about telling him something later. For not remembering in the first place he's not there for me to talk to anymore.

What to say next? What is one supposed to say in a blog post about their ex? That I am happier? Better off? Moving on? (It has now been 10 months, 15 days, 22 hours, 50 minutes and 12 seconds since we broke up. No big deal.)

I'm not happier. I am sadder. More sad. Whatever the correct grammar is for that. Better off? Sorry, that would be another negative. But despite my best intentions, despite all of my resolve, I am moving on. Slowly but surely my heart and my brain or healing themselves when I'm not looking. They're doing a pretty good job too. Sometimes, I must admit, I make it hard. I find something my ex gave me or see a memory on Facebook or find a picture of us stashed somewhere. When this happens, I find myself crashing to a halt, drowning in a mess of tears and feelings. Oh Glory the feelings. Will they ever end?

Sometimes, though, my dear friends and family, sometimes it is you who are making it hard for my brain and heart to do their dirty work and move me on while I'm not paying attention.

Let me use an analogy. My love for my ex is like the One Ring. My brain and heart are like Frodo and Sam. My attention is like the Eye of Sauron; riveted on the One Ring, concentrated on finding and keeping it no matter what the cost. Now Frodo (my brain) and Sam (my heart) are doing their darndest, sneaking hither tither and yon trying to (for lack of a better expression) destroy the One Ring (my love) forever. Every time one of you asks me When are you getting married? or So who is next? or What about you?, you are jepordizing the quest to destroy the One Ring and bringing my attention right back to where it shouldn't be focused.

I know you don't mean it unkindly and that you have my best interest at heart. However, since I have decided I can't take it anymore, I figured it is time I man up and tell you all this. I didn't want to bother before. I thought I was weak. I thought it wasn't a big deal. I thought since I was the one whose relationship ended it wasn't anyone else's problem and I didn't need to keep bringing it up. I thought I could take it.

I was wrong.

I smile when you ask me these questions. Maybe laugh a little. Crack a joke. Crack a smile. Wonder how quickly I can change the subject without you noticing. Swallow. Fidgit. Run my finger through my hair. Try desparately to pay attention to whatever else it is you are saying now to distract myself from the tsnunami of heartbreak enfulging my soul.

Please stop. Trust me, there are much better conversation starters out there and since I genuinely enjoy conversing with each and every one of you, it would be nice if you would use them. There are questions I can't answer yet. There are also questions that shouldn't be asked.

I figure as a courtesy I can answer these hideous questions one last time; this time, though, I am going to answer them truthfully. How am I coping with breaking up with the man I thought I was going to marry, with planning two sister's weddings (and all the parties/strategizing they included) and now planning baby showers for the same two, dear sisters? I have good days and bad days. L. M. Montgomery once said in her famous Anne of Green Gables series that a heartache is very similar to a toothache. Unromantic? Perhaps. Unpoetic? Certainly. Definitely accurate and true. When it's not there, you don't miss it. When it is, nothing can take your mind off the searing pain. I am not okay.

I do believe that I am on the road to healing. I ask for your prayers as I continue through this difficult time. Who wants to wear a pair of heartbreak-coloured glasses forever? Not me.

Love y'all. Pax Dómini sit semper vobiscum.

a Year of Growth and Change

It is hard to find adequate words to describe this past year. It was a hard year, to be sure, but at the same time, hard doesn't quite cut it as the sole description of everything that happened in 2016. What could?

In order to describe 2016's effect on me, I am forced to use the words of my favorite (and sometimes rival) younger sister. "This year was a year of growth and change. Most of them good changes. But change is always hard." Wow. Can we just take a moment to sit back and appreciate the fact that there are still 19 year olds like her in this world? Praise God from whom all blessings flow, blessings that can come disguised as little sisters.

I remember hearing her say those words as I watched her, five and a half months pregnant, moving around the kitchen of her and her husband's first apartment together. Change indeed, since at this point last year she had only been engaged to her now-husband. Now they had started a family together. By contrast, I felt like nothing was different in my life and yet also felt that somehow, everything had changed and nothing would ever be the same again. Change is always hard.

When I am listing all the things that happened to me this past year, it seems like so much. However when I look at it only to compare where I am now and where I was a year ago, there is still some differences; more startling are the similarities. A year ago, I had been "preparing" for the new year by thinking too much about my failures from the previous year and not enough about the ways I could let God work in my life.

I'm not much for new year's resolutions; however, I managed to scrounge up one or two that I am 100% committed to maintaining not just in the upcoming year but for the rest of my life. The time to get holy is now. The time to love is now. The time to forgive is now. I am really done putting things off until tomorrow when tomorrow never comes.

Maybe I will end up sharing all of my New Year's resolutions with people eventually, but for now I am going to stick with sharing one. I have decided that I don't want to wait until the end of the year to be thankful for the many blessings he has put in my life. I also don't want to wait until the end of the year to process all the negative things that have happened. I don't want to be caught by surprise anymore, facing a new year and finding myself still entrenched in the same bad/sinful habits I had the year before. Self-awareness is my New Year's resolution. Awareness of how I treat other people, awareness of how I treat myself and most importantly awareness of my relationship and the degree and pursue it with the man upstairs.

I feel compelled to mention the heroes of my 2016. My friends. Despite its many trials, I feel like this year in particular has brought other new and fulfilling friendships with it, or it has shown old and true friendships to me in a beautiful new life. 2016 is the year that will keep on giving through its myriad of friendships. I think the last time I was so joyous and carefree, so ecstatic about my relationships with other people was when I was a small child.

As I look back on 2016, I find myself clinging to a cold comfort. I sincerely hope at the end of my life that my Lord and Savior compares me to what I was before, not to the other people in my life (like I am so often tempted to do). As I look forward to 2017, I am anticipating more good changes, more chances to grow closer to God and to grow in love for my neighbor. A new year of taking a step back and being grateful for those around me. Laus Deo! 

I know Love

I had a thought tonight, entering the church before going into the adoration chapel. How does a Lover dress when they are visiting their Beloved? How does a Lover dress when they are visiting their Beloved? For if you asked me where I was going tonight, I would have told you "I am going to see My Beloved." (Even though I don't look like it.) My Beloved. The Lover of my Soul. The King of My Heart. He is beautiful in His perfection and before He became beautiful, I don't think true beauty even existed.

He is here tonight in the silence waiting; breathless with anticipation, I walk eagerly through the church, I bless myself with the Holy Water, I genuflect on both knees, head bent in adoration and then I sit at His feet and pour out my soul to this All-Knowing Being. And He listens. I can feel Him listening to me, I can feel Him opening up and urging me deeper into knowing Him. His desire for our two souls to become one is so strong, I can taste it. With Him, I can see it and I feel like it is possible. 

Today was a very long, tiring day. I came to see my Beloved in flip-flops, yoga pants and a flannel shirt, aka the first clean clothes I could find. My hair is a rat's nest and there are bags under my eyes; there is a rough, hoarse quality to my voice when I speak and I can hardly keep my eyes open or my mind off how badly my back is hurting.

But do you know what? It is enough. I am enough. I run to Him, empty and dry, and He is brimming over with peace and grace, just waiting to fill me up. No matter how many other people are here, no matter how many people have come to see Him, I always get the feeling that He was waiting for me in particular to show up.

And oh, how I need Him to love me tonight. I need Him to rejuvenate my soul so I can go home refreshed and love the little people in my care. Love is the gift that keeps on giving. My Lover (My Beloved) loves me, I pass that love on to the people in my life, they pass it on to the people they know and so on and so forth. I hope one day to be like a mirror of Love so when people look at me instead of seeing me, they are dazzled by the love that shines through me, of which He is the source.

This is how it feels to be truly loved. He is seeing me at my worst tonight and loving me just the same as if I was at my best. I don't think He sees a difference. My mood's don't phase Him. My best or my worst, He is happy to see me. He loves me as I am no matter what. How does a Lover dress when they are visiting their Beloved? Sometimes I take great care in the way I am dressed but sometimes on nights like tonight, I find myself before Him looking like a drudge. He loves me as I am, no matter what. 

I make sure, no matter what, that I come before Him as myself. Me. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't waste His time pretending to be something else and He rewards me for that. There is an intimacy that has been achieved over years with patience, devotion and tears. It is an intimacy that cannot be faked. 

I know Love. He has a Name.