FOSO

I went to the beach this morning. It’s the thing to do in Florida. (Actually, I was at the beach all the time back home too.) I got there early. Packed “light”. Brought G. K. Chesterton’s Ballad of the White Horse. Wore a totally outrageous outfit as a cover up for my bathing suit. Like I always do.

Like I always do.

Always.

If you found out you were going to die in a week, how would your life change?

People’s answers vary for this all important question, but I have chosen to stick with my favorite.

My life wouldn’t change. Or; I am making the necessary changes now, so when my time comes I can say “I lived” instead of “I wish I had lived”.

If I am already taking every chance as if it’s my last and living everyday like it could be the last one, what do I have left to regret at the end of my earthly existence? Nothing, that's what. Depending on your perspective, this is either incredibly freeing or incredibly morbid.

"Safe?! From what? Life is always on the edge of death; narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn." Sophie Scholl 

I’m not under any (many?) illusions about myself. I know I’m not perfect and any virtue is something I associate with perfection; something I am working towards and might have one day, but don’t have yet.

And yet. There are times when I tell people of the life I lead, times when I talk about how I follow God wherever He sends me and they say I could never do that. Time and again, I have run head on into that phrase. I could never do that. I could never leave my family. I could never travel alone in a foreign country without knowing the language. I could never - the list is endless. People think they could never do what God is asking of them and all for the same stupid, insufficient reason; because they are afraid.

Newsflash y’all. I am afraid too. More than half the time. I cry. I stumble along after God, tripping over my own feet and refusing to let Him carry me. I wonder how His will for my life can so often feel like a punishment if it’s the best thing for me.

Not just with the big things either. Going to France 2 years ago felt the same as wearing a veil the first time. Veiling the first year in turn feels the same as standing up to my peers (some of them fellow Catholics!) when they are wrong. Forget FOMO, Fear of Missing Out. Ya girl here struggles with FOSO, Fear Of Standing Out. And by struggle, I mean every time I enter a Norvus Ordo Parish, there is a voice in my head tempting me to pluck my veil off my head, just to blend in with everyone else. Not just in the first 5 years I wore one; every single time, from the first time until now. Every time I do something that could make me stand out, all I want to do is fade safely back into obscurity.

But that is not what I was created for. My Lord and Savior has burdened me with great purpose; He spoke the words to us "Go and make disciples of 'The Nations'". The world isn't won by blending in.

We are called to bear the shame of being different and standing out.

So. I stand out. Not because I want to but because God has called me to live in this world, yet in a way that is different from what most other people’s lives look like. And I think there is a common misconception floating around that when you stand out, you are okay with it, and if you are okay with it, you are brave and when you are brave, that means you aren’t afraid anymore.

PSA, that’s a load of crap. Surprised? I sure was. It is one of the beautiful (if complicated) mysteries of our human nature combined with our souls that we can experience both human emotions and the powerful, releasing presence of God the Holy Spirit in our souls at the same time. It is possible to stand up for what you believe in absolutely secure in your knowledge of the truth and shake in your boots at the same time. I’m not saying thats how it is for everyone, but that is how it continues to be in my own experience. I am perfectly at peace in my soul while a storm of butterflies rages in my stomach. I am both afraid and brave.

So. Back to living each day as though it is my last. Back to the beach. I changed things up a bit this morning. I brought my earbuds, put on my dance music playlist (Deborah 😘 Sarah 😘) and I danced. I went in and out of the waves, back and forth, spun around...at one point (still not quite sure how) I ended up sitting in about 4 inches of water mid-movement. I laughed, got up and kept dancing. 

For two hours this morning, I did something I have never done before, something I have always wanted to do. Something I knew people walking past me would judge me for. Something "crazy". 

What does contemporary/hip hop dancing on the beach to *cough* musicwithagoodbeat *cough*, making a spectacle of myself have to do with my salvation?

Nothing. And Everything.

It’s good practice. If I get used to standing out, used to being uncomfortable and to not caring as much if everyone is looking at me, that will be one less temptation keeping me from being the Witness of God I am called to be in this life. Because we all know the world preaches individuality while simultaneously expecting everyone to be the same and not make waves.

Don't let FOSO keep you from being who you are and witnessing to Christ (the two go hand in hand). I'm going to put this bluntly. If you can't dance like nobody's watching, it's not anybody's fault but your own. If you started dancing near me, I would watch you too. That's the f*cking point, that people are watching you. If I was in a pitch black room and you struck a match, I would certainly look your way. I might even be angry with you if the light hurt my eyes. (See that cool analogy? Badumcha!) Don't be fervent in church and go with the flow on campus. Don't bother telling people you are Catholic if you aren't going to act like one. Don't try to skate by doing the bare minimum and kid yourself that avoiding the topic of death means it won't happen to you. Don't fall into the trap of thinking your own vocation is too hard for you. 

Get off your butt and stop telling God you could never do what He asks of you. Get used to standing out. Welcome the odd looks. Own the shame that Christ gave you when He called you out of the darkness and into the light. 

And dance. Dance like no one is watching. 

Live. Live like everyone is watching. Live like God is watching. 

Pax vobis.

"If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;Be happy anyway.The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;Do good anyway.Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;Give the world the best you've got anyway.You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;It was never between you and them anyway."

This revision is credited to St. Teresa of Calcutta. Original Poem by Kent Keith 

On Being Beloved

Do you let God love you?

When I enter into God’s presence, either physically by entering a church/chapel or spiritually by entering into communion with Him through prayer, I find myself doing everything but letting Him love me. Is love truly love if it is only one sided? And by this I mean - do I truly love God if I don’t let Him love me back? Do I let Him love me back?

I have come to realize that I don’t. I treat God the way I treat the rest of humanity; I act like I need to spend my time in His presence minimizing the amount of space and attention I am taking up. I make myself small in His presence for all the wrong reasons. I sit in the back, not because I am humble (I wish I was), but because I am both too afraid to get closer and I don’t want to take a coveted spot near the front just in case someone more worthy than I comes in.

I wish I loathed sin as much as I loathe being “in the way”. I wish I was as good at loving God as I am at telling Him all my faults and failures. I wish I knew how to receive love as easily and freely as I give it.

He tries so hard to break through my iron wall of negativity and discouragement, but I am not easily dissuaded. Half my time in adoration is spent telling Him how worthless I am. Half my tears shed during Mass are out of sorrow for my many, many failures throughout the years. This is all well and good - contrition has its place in our relationship with God but as with any other good thing, if taken to an extreme it can do more harm than good.

Are you in the habit of letting God love you?

I don’t know how Mary did it. I don’t know how she sat at His feet and watched every word come out of His mouth and let Him love her without feeling ashamed. I am like Martha - I would have faded into the background, done the grunt work and at the end of it, found something to complain about. I too, have tried to boss God around. (He won’t be bossed y’all, it doesn't work.)

I try to tell Him how to treat me - thankfully, that doesn’t work either. He knows my sins, my transgressions, just like I do. But He also knows something I tend to forget; I am worth dying on the cross for. I am worth loving. I am loved.

I’ve been at a stalemate with My Maker for a long time over my worth. Worth is what we are, the basis of our relationship with God. He accepted my worth centuries ago, alone in a garden in Gethsemane. My refusing to accept His acceptance does me no good.

So I am trying something new. Now, when I enter into His presence I make sure there is time for love on both our parts. I usually start with my intentions, then move to praising and thanking (loving!) Him. I try to incorporate my self-criticism into this to give it purpose.

You are He Who Is and I am she who is not - St. Catherine of Siena

And then - this is the hardest part - I merely sit (or stand or just be with Him) in His presence and let Him love me. Having emptied myself of requests for other people, harsh words against myself and all manner of praises toward He Who Is, I sit in silence. I don’t do anything. I don’t always feel like I am doing anything. I look at Him. He looks at me. Sometimes I find myself repeating the phrases “I love You” or “You are beautiful” over and over (sometimes out loud, to my acute embarrassment); sometimes I feel like it was worth it. Sometimes I feel like an idiot. And sometimes He meets me head on with the full force of His love for me and I am so overwhelmed I forget to breathe. These are the best times.

Any relationship requires good communication - how can we love someone we don’t know? I can busy myself with the cares of the world, I can bring the burdens of others to God and lay them at His feet, but if they are done without love, I am a clanging cymbal.

I am trying my hardest to stop wasting God’s time. One of my liturgical new year’s resolutions was to stop asking Him why and so far I have only seen good things come from that. I believe seeking Him out in prayer and lovin’ on Him through my thoughts and actions then not allowing Him to reciprocate by showing me love and affection is a huge waste of His time and mine.

So let me ask you again. Do you let God love you? There is nothing to be gained from avoiding or running from His love. There is everything to be gained by running towards Him with arms wide open.

Join me in learning to be loved. In Being Beloved. 

An Invitation to Live

The world conditioned me - and probably you too - from a very young age to see pain as a negative thing. Any type of pain, be it caused by fear, sorrow, loneliness, etc. etc.  Every single one of these hurts. Every single one of these is invaluable. In fact, when considered rightly, pain loses its power to hurt. It can transform us. - if we let it.

I have learned from childhood to end pain through motrin if it is physical, distraction   or sleep if it is emotional. Sometimes, I try to numb it with food (“eat my feelings”); sometimes, I choose to ignore it. Like pretending it’s not there will change the way things are.

I see pain as a monster that feeds off the worst in me. My perception of pain triggers my response, which is usually defensive. I have to protect myself from the monster. I have to fight it with everything I am.

But what if I have it all wrong?

A week or so ago I was praying my rosary, meditating on the first sorrowful mystery, the Agony in the Garden. How many times have I heard that story, read that story, told that story to children as I was teaching them. How many times have I meditated upon it while praying my rosary? Hundreds, if not thousands of times.

Every time I meditate on it, I feel sorrow and empathy for Jesus. My heart bleeds for Him. Here He is on the worst night of His entire life and all He wants is to have His closest companions with Him. And they say they want to be with Him too, they even come to the garden with Him!!! But what then? They fall asleep. Not once, but multiple times, the very people Jesus had counted on for comfort pass out and leave Him alone with His fears. I’m sure they never forgave themselves for it after the fact. (I wouldn’t have.)

See here though. Jesus was in pain. Distressed. Distraught. He fell on His knees before God the Father and begged that this cup be taken from Him.

As much as I would like to believe I am better than the Apostles, could I have entered into that with Him? Could I have stayed awake and prayed? Could I have born offering Him nothing but the cold comfort of my presence so He wouldn’t be alone?

Sometimes, the pain of those we love is more unbearable even than our own.

I judged the Apostles for falling asleep. I wouldn’t have done that is an easy thing to say, centuries later, when I know how the whole story pans out. There is a catch.

I do do that.

You see, I have come to the horrible realization that pain is not a monster. I’ve had it wrong for years. I’ve believed what I heard through hearsay. That kidney stones are the worst. That heartbreak is unbearable. That being unable to feel God’s presence during periods of spiritual darkness is the worst possible thing imaginable. What do all these things (that I have personally experienced) have in common? They highlight some of the innumerable ways a human being can feel pain.

But what if pain is something more? What if it isn’t a monster? What if pain is actually, well, a hand reaching out to me in invitation? What if pain isn’t ugly but transformatively beautiful? What if pain is something to be sought, or at least endured, rather than avoided? What if it is possible that through the transformative beauty that is pain, we gain a union and relationship so close with Jesus, we forgot the pain it took to get there? And we were glad, joyous even upon emerging from the fog of pain. Discovering to our delight how much closer we are to Christ. How much more complete our very existence is from knowing Him through our pain.

If these are true than I have made a terrible mistake in seeing pain as a monster, in trying to elude it at every turn.

Every speck of pain, even something so simple as a headache, is an invitation. An invitation to partake in the transformative beauty that comes from knowing Jesus Christ. I am called not to avoid that pain, but to reach out and take the hand it offers me. To accept the invitation. To follow Jesus into that garden at Gethsemane. To enter willingly into it with Him and to not fall asleep in doing so.

Pain carries with it an invitation to live.

I am not ready for pain. I never am. It always catches me unawares. I can’t claim that I will ever desire to seek it out either. However. My seeing pain for what it is is a game changer. Now that I no longer seek to end it as quickly as possible or to dodge it completely, now that I am no longer expending energy trying with all my might to avoid it, a funny thing has happened. I’m not afraid of it anymore. I am not afraid to experience pain anymore.

I have so much pain left to experience during my lifetime.

I have so much to learn from pain.

So many invitations to accept.

So many opportunities to enter into my suffering and let it change me, even as I am begging for it to be taken away.

So much more of Jesus’ heart to discover.

Pain is a beautiful gift, an invitation to live. 

The Heckin' Life I Lead: Part 2

This being the second part of the full and detailed account of the workings of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ in my life: that is to say this is a compilation of the many reflections from some many hours spent in prayer over the past two and a half weeks, I being unemployed and therefore having plenty of time to pray :)

….I sent one of my coworkers a text a week later, trying to describe the feeling.

“It's so strange. My first week of unemployment is under my belt. Surprisingly not panicky, I feel like I have my feet very firmly planted on the foundation of God's promise to look after me. I have somehow found a place of unshakable peace and strength from committing to God's will. Thank you so much for your support over this last month and really, our entire time working together!!”

Truer words were never spoken. I am more at peace than I have ever been in my entire life. I allowed my job to end (I had the option of staying and God told me not to), I didn’t apply anywhere for a new job (God told me not to), my savings account was empty thanks to my car (okay not empty…$48 was in there, before the check from papa came in), Christmas was around the corner and I was the least upset or stressed I have ever been during the holidays. If you had told me following God’s will would lead me to being jobless and broke right before Christmas, I would have told you God would never do something like that to me. And I would have been both right and wrong. He didn’t do it to me. He, in His infinite wisdom, allowed it to happen and through it, brought me to a place of deeper communion and understanding with Him. Money and a working car are NOTHING compared to that.

There have been many times since my sisters married their boyfriends last year and I broke up with mine that I have wished things had turned out differently. That I have bemoaned my miserable, single, lonely life….I found myself thanking my lucky stars these past few months that I had no one depending on me to act “rationally” (ie, job hunt or do something other than pray and wait), no one I needed to provide for. Once again, I have been granted the gift of deeply appreciating my life in the present moment. I feel like the norm is people look back on their lives and wish they had fully appreciated where they were...through heartbreak and joblessness and being broke and being sick and a myriad of other things this world looks down on (and things I tend to complain about...sorry…), God has saved me from that regret and for that, I am truly thankful.

Years ago in a fit of impetuousness, I said I wanted to live my life with no regrets - not to live scared but to live life out loud, doing things no one would logically think to do, letting the Holy Spirit be my guide. God heard me and oh, how He has been helping me attain that goal! I don’t always remember to thank God for giving me exactly what I ask for but I did this time around.

When I told a close friend I would be moving to Florida by driving there in January, the first words out of her mouth were “I’m sorry, but is your car going to make it to Florida?”. And it was there, sitting on her bedroom floor, I realized why my car had been breaking down so much. God had this job planned out for me, probably before I even found out my other job was ending. And He wanted me to be safe on my drive down to Florida, not broken down needing expensive repairs halfway there. He provided for me by allowing my car to break down multiple times here, at home, surrounded by friends and family and coworkers who offered me everything from money to cover the repairs to rides places. My car is all fixed now. It’s not making any odd noises, or doing half the strange things it was before...it even accelerates in the rain now!! Like what? And both mechanics I ended up taking it to told me that it will probably run another 5-10 years without having another problem. But if it does have problems, I will know there is a reason for it. And also, speaking of mechanics, it was just two weeks ago I finally finished paying one of them off. I thanked him profusely for his patience and you know what he told me? He said I am one of his only customers that requires no patience. Me. He said that about me...people, this might be the ONLY man this side of heaven who thinks I require no patience, so it is worth noting! (He has also given me the nickname of “Favorite High Volume Customer”.)

But yeah. God freaking provides y’all. It’s in the Bible. And it’s my heckin’ life of late. I am a Lily of the Field, a Sparrow. He knows me and my need and He will not leave me destitute.

Earlier this year, I had started applying to domestic missionary work. Not that I wanted to leave, mind you. Quite the opposite! But after following God blindly to France and Alaska last year, I was having difficulty finding Him in the normalcy of Va Beach livin’ (if you catch my drift). I was so happy to be near family again and my core group of friends….but I missed the rush of the free fall that comes from flinging myself off a proverbial ledge, kno0wing God is going to catch me. God made it clear, however, during the interview process, that missionary work wasn’t my calling just yet. It was a good thing for me to do, a beautiful desire. - but not the best thing. Wait and have faith He asked me, so I bided my time here and went to parties and deepened friendships and got re-attached to all things friends and family. Even though I knew I would be leaving again. Even though it hurts so much to say goodbye.

Have you ever listened much to the band Building 429? I haven’t, but they have one song that is the theme song of my life, Where I Belong. The chorus goes All I know is I’m not home yet/This is not where I belong/Take this world and give me Jesus/This is not where I belong….it probably doesn’t seem all that profound to you but ever since I heard it, the words of this song have resonated deeply in my soul. It tells me to not get too comfortable here; it reminds me this world is temporary, fleeting, that I only have today to love God more. To love Him both as Himself and through His paradoxical creations. Every time I hear it, I see myself as the wayfarer, the sojourner in a strange land from the Old Testament. Even now, I can almost feel the sands of time changing and shifting beneath my feet.

But that is all soul talk. My heart is weary from moving. Even as God was telling me I would be called elsewhere soon, I was sort of hoping I would be done and could settle down. I have an adorable niece and nephew that need to be taught slang and fed pickles + bacon. I have 7 siblings that are all somehow still in the area that I love being around. I have two phenomenal parents; the older I get, the more I value my time with each of them. I thought I didn’t have many friends when I moved back here but God has proved me wrong over and over again in that area. I learned a hard lesson this year in not taking people’s lives for granted and that has made me cling tighter than ever to those I love.

Perhaps it is because I get used to my blessings, so God calls me away from them and then they are like new upon my return. Like how Manalive (in Chesterton’s epic romance) is continually breaking into his own house and running away with his own wife. He finds his liquor to be more tasty when he is drinking it after breaking in through the skylight. He finds his wife most beautiful when he meets her for the first time, so he arranges to meet her over and over again. He doesn’t want to lose sight of how precious she is, how neat his house is or how amazing his life is. He is both mad and more sane than I have ever been in my entire life. His priorities are always straight. He seeks in the best way he knows how to always be thankful and appreciative of God’s greatest gifts in life.

Home is comfortable. Family is my everything. Friends are once in a lifetime kinds of blessings. But He calls me to go forth from all of that to new places, time and again, and if you could only hear His call the way I hear it, you would know why I have to leave everything to follow it. His call is my siren song. To ignore it doesn’t even bear thinking.

So. Y’all. This has been my extremely long winded way of saying yes, the infamous (and famous?) Rachel Rastelli is again leaving. I don’t know for how long - right now, I am looking at at least 9 months but Alaska was supposed to be a year and ended up being 2 and ½ weeks….and yet that too, was God’s will. But yeah. Anyways. Hopefully this is at least 9 months.

In January, I will be driving down to Florida for another nanny job (when I wasn’t sure I would ever nanny again). There is a saying that God qualifies the called but in this particular job I feel extremely qualified. Nurturing children is my superpower, of sorts. And I will have the chance to learn more about photography from a dear friend who is a master of the camera + lens. I’ll be living in a state I’ve never lived in before, in winter weather I despise. But I will be doing the will of the Lord.

I still want to be a missionary. It is a beautiful desire and it is my hope God sees fit to help me realize this dream before I am fifty. But everything in God’s perfect, incomprehensible timing. I don’t know why I’m not married yet. I don’t know why I’ve moved 3 times in the past 2 years. I also don’t need to know why to carry out God’s will or to praise Him so thank heavens for that. He is found in the waiting. He meets us in our wanting.

To the readers...I’d apologize for the length of this post but I’m not actually sorry sooo…..yeah...no. Lol. God is awesome and I had to tell you why I think so in great detail. You’re welcome :) and it’s not done yet, so keep reading.

I’d like to thank everyone among my family ❤, friends (Emilie, Emma, Sarah, Rebecca, Mary, Suzanne, Victoria, Lena, Mary Clare, Katherine) and coworkers (Andi, Jackie, Courtney) who helped talk me through the crazy, calmed me down when I was panicking and reassured me that I was doing the right thing as I second guessed myself over and over. Thank you for comforting me in my afflictions and celebrating my triumphs with me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you for all the prayers you have said on my behalf and now I have possibly the strangest prayer request you ever heard to follow up on that. The family I will be living with in Florida has cats, two cats. I am allergic to cats. So I am asking everyone I know to pray to the patron saint of cats, St. Gertrude of Nivelles, and ask her intercession/solution to this problem. I figure simple is best and I would like cats just fine if they didn’t give me asthma attacks. So! St. Gertrude. And of course, prayers as I start the process of getting rid of everything I can’t take with me to Florida. Pray all the prayers please and thank you!

I am also incredibly thankful and blessed to have my older sister Deborah as my roommate. Someone who will never press me for rent (although so far, I have managed to pay it every month). Someone who gives me space to be crazy even though I am sure she doesn’t understand why half the time. Someone who buys me celery after a trying week, lends me money when my car breaks again and who always has my back. We don’t get to pick family in this life and I have been overwhelmed with how amazing mine is.

And a final note on the Advent journal. I am, as you well know, jobless AND sick again. I would be losing my mind right now if I didn’t have something to structure my prayer life around while I am homebound. This journal is pushing me to my spiritual limits, relentlessly challenging me to trust God and leading me deeper into Christ than I have ever been before. I have always struggled with Advent; Lent is my heckin’ jam but Advent always seemed like a foreign language. This journal has helped me get past the lifelong mental block I have had towards Advent and for that, too, I am eternally grateful.

Also, being sick while jobless is almost amazing...I can finally rest. My right shoulder/neck isn’t in constant pain anymore, my plantar fasciitis had faded, I don’t have to worry about missing work. Seriously. I am a little scared I won’t have a voice to sing at Midnight Mass but I am mostly thankful for an excuse to lie down and recover from 3 of the most stressful months of my life.

Gloria in excelsis Deo. Deo Gratias.

The Heckin' Life I Lead: Part 1

Friends and Foes alike, Greetings

The following being a calendrical compendium, that is to say, an accurate and detailed account of the previous three months of my life.

First things first. If I have at any point in the past 3 months answered the question “How are you doing” with anything remotely positive, that answer was a lie. For you to have an accurate take on what life has been doing to me lately, I want you to think of Looney Tunes. Specifically, any of the Looney Tunes characters when they realize they are holding a bomb with an extremely short fuse - blank, horrified look, frozen in place, scared to death. Wait, it’s not supposed to play out like this. How is it I always seem to be the one holding the bomb? I’ve taken to describing myself as God’s Comic Relief. Go ahead and laugh, it’s funny. - and painfully accurate.

I tried to think of a less-listy more story-like way of telling this tale but that would take forever. Telling this story over the phone takes a good 10 minutes IF I am being quick. There are some things that shouldn’t be rushed though and witnessing to the way God has been working in my life is one of those things. This is actually one of my Liturgical New Year’s resolutions; no longer downplaying God’s part in my life. I tend towards shrugging it off like it’s no big deal that He’s always come through for me and that is just the wrong approach. So yeah. Woohoo. God! Keep reading please lol.

There isn’t a particular, definitive start to this story so I picked one. The dates are accompanying the things that happened because, quite frankly, I am amazed I came through so much happening in such quick succession without having a terrible breakdown. Here goes nothin’ y’all.

Sept. 17 (until about mid Nov.): I slide into another depressive episode.

Sept. 20th-24th: my Night Terrors come back, making it impossible to sleep.

Oct. 3rd: I come down with a nasty cold and end up with a completely debilitating asthma flare up for a week.

Oct. 10th: After agonizing over spending the money, I buy the Blessed is She Advent journal.

Oct. 11th: I find out my job is ending. I immediately feel a strong call to “non action”, to prayer and waiting on God to provide me with a new job. And a lot of regret about spending money on an advent journal!

Oct. 12th: I have to re-open my finger I injured this past summer and drain it.

Oct. 13th: I hydroplane on the way home from work and realize I need new tires, a huge expense right as my job was ending.

Oct. 14th (aka the worst day): I try to tell my parents what is going on with my job & car, end up miscommunicating horribly and head home. That night I come closer than I ever have to having a full blown panic attack.

Oct. 15th: I get new tires but am told my control arm (the part that keeps the tire stable on the axle) needs to be replaced. FYI control arms are not easy or cheap to fix…

Oct. 17th (aka The Golden Day): Despite the general atmosphere at work being fairly anxious, I had an amazing day attempting to get rid of a load of old bottles in the company van with one of my favorite coworkers. The trip took about 2 hours longer than we thought it would and she bought me a bagel on route :) Then it was time to head to the mechanic to get my control arm fixed; the good news? They can fix it right away. They convince me to have lunch with them and buy it for me (my mechanics may or not be some of my fave people ever). I stop off at adoration and the scheduled adorer has a family emergency so I get Jesus all to myself for a good 40 minutes(!). I head to meet my friend Suzanne for coffee and amidst telling her my life is absolute sh*t, she tells me that I’ve got this. And buys my coffee. And then we head next door for macaroons...Seriously, this day was the best. day. ever.

Oct. 20th: I can no longer put off going to the chiropractor even though the last thing I want to do is spend money. I stop by the library on my way home and find $40 in my back pocket that I swear wasn’t there before.

Oct. 25th-27th: I head out of town to watch some kids for the weekend and honestly, I am looking for the respite from my life. My oldest sister graciously lends me her more dependable car since mine is a problem child.

Oct 29th: I am back in town and after putting over $700 into my car, it won’t start. My brother has it towed for me. At first, they think it is just the battery but upon closer inspection, the alternator is outed as the root of the problem. Alternators aren’t cheap either (in case you wanted to know).

Nov. 4th: My dad helps me replace my alternator; he buys the part for me as an early Christmas gift and saves me the cost of labor in one fell swoop, while teaching me a bit more about my car (I love working on cars with my dad).

Nov. 6th: I start a novena to the patron saint of unemployment for myself and 2 of my coworkers with the intention that we all find gainful employment.

Nov. 9th: I cut myself again at work, in the leg this time. I am back to not being able to run or workout, after FINALLY being recovered from my cold.

Nov. 10th: My brakes go out on my way to work. My manager helps me get my car to the mechanic and I find out my brake line needs to be replaced. I have to borrow money from my older sister because guess what? Brake lines are expensive to replace too and I didn’t have the money.

Nov. 10th, 11th, 12th: I go camping at Chincoteague with my sister and 2 close friends. We have an amazing time and I finally shake off the depression that has been dogging me since September.

Nov. 13th: The devil starts hardcore attacking my friendships with these women I had just spent the weekend with. I retaliate by thanking God for the gift of having them in my life.

Nov. 14th: I go to traffic court for a ticket, praying it will get waived because I have no money to pay it. (It got waived!)

Nov. 15th: I finish my novena to the patron saint of unemployment.

Nov. 16th: My coworkers I included in the novena tell me they have started with network marketing companies. Not the outcome I was expecting from my novena. I am both excited for them and frustrated that they got jobs and I did not.

Nov. 17th (Friday): My job was supposed to end on Wednesday but today I find out they extended it another week.

Nov. 18th: My homie Solanus Casey is FINALLY beatified. Seriously. He is one of my faves. My parents have this 2 hour documentary on his life that ranks in my top 5 favorite movies.

Nov. 19th: social media is, of course, flooded with various quotes from Solanus but one in particular strikes me to my core. Thank God in advance. I stop what I am doing, go straight to adoration, fall on my face before the monstrance and thank God for the job He has provided me with, even though I don’t know what it is yet. I don’t need to know to be grateful.

Nov. 22: I had, at this point, been practically swimming in my jeans/shirts/basically all my winter clothes (the one time losing weight has been inconvenient!!) from last year but unable to justify buying new clothes. My coworker goes through her closet and gives me some hand me downs that fit perfectly. And I look amazing in them.

Nov. 24th: My job gets extended again.

Nov. 26th: A friend needs a ride home from the airport and I wrestle with the desire to be charitable and my need for being careful with how much gas I use since I won’t have an income soon. And then I remember this. Economizing is all well and good until it interferes with charity. Anything good taken to an extreme runs the risk of becoming bad. I decide to limit only spending on myself.

Nov. 27th: I run out of the aloe I use on my hair and decide it’s an unnecessary expense and don’t need to buy more. My neighbor shows up on my front porch later that day with a huge aloe plant for me. I am speechless. After spending more time in prayer, I realize God is caring for my immediate needs - clothing, aloe - and that a job must not be a need.

Nov. 28th: I call up an old friend to talk photography and end up with a potential job offer.

Nov. 29th: I get an official job offer, starting mid January, for a live in nanny position with old friends in Florida.

Nov. 30th: My job gets extended again.

Dec. 2: I get a check for a thousand dollars in the mail from my grandfather. (Seriously, y’all, I can’t make this stuff up!)

Dec. 3rd: The beginning of Advent...I crack open my BIS advent journal I haven’t been able to make myself look at since it arrived and in reading the opening pages I realize something incredible. This journal is going to change me. I bought it to help me have a deeper appreciation for Advent and oh my freaking lanta y’all, it continues to do so much more than that!!

Dec. 4th: After multiple extensions, I finally work my last day at Fruitive. I almost cry a lot. Everyone hugs me. Someone even told me they would miss my singing! And I leave sad, but as I drive out of the parking lot, I know I have made the right choice. All of the emotional turmoil and angst fades as I am left with nothing but my firm belief in God’s promise to provide for me. Give us this day our daily bread...I knew He would. He has. He continues to do so. I sent one of my coworkers a text a week later, trying to describe the feeling....

This is the end, that is to say, the completion of the dates and times resulting in the calendrical compendium. The tale will resume in part two under different formatting but with the same focus: GOD. 

The Men I've Loved

Love is a strange, many faceted thing. Love is beauty. Love is truth. Love is wonder. Love is.

I hate reducing Love to mere words because the English language is sadly lacking when it comes to describing the indescribable (of which category I happen to believe Love falls into).

Love, for me, seems to have changed over time. When I was a child, I understood Love as from a purely emotional standpoint. I saw Love as solely a choice in my adolescent years. I now (from the ripe old age of 24) see Love as not only both but so much more than either of these vague human terms can convey. Love is both emotion and choice. Love is all-encompassing. Love does not discriminate. Love accounts for the unaccountable things that we find ourselves doing on occasion or being recipients of. Love is. Love is Love is Love is Love is Love.

Understand the mystery that is love any better yet? Cool. Me neither.

Back to the slightly scandalous theme of this post, men. Specifically, the men who have managed to capture moments of my attention and pieces of my heart, no matter how long or brief. This one’s for y’all so pay attention!

I don’t consider myself to be a particularly easy or hard target. I don’t believe in playing games (specifically, playing hard to get...I see no point in this) and I don’t believe Love is something that should be toyed with. I do believe Love can be taken both too seriously and not seriously enough. I don’t believe in denying that Love exists and/or existed, not to myself or anyone else. I believe in being honest about Love. Hence this whole post.

Gentlemen: if I have at any ever been even slightly attracted to you, that is a huge point in your favor. Why?

Everyone has their own way of dealing with pain and rejection. Every girl has experienced the guy she likes falling for another girl and having to watch it happen and to be happy for him when it does. Or sometimes the guy likes her back and things are great for a little while, but it doesn't last forever. Or sometimes the guy makes everyone (including the girl) think he likes her but never follows through on asking her out. These are all sad circumstances to find ourselves in. These are all examples of frustrated Love.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with it when it happens. I’ve done the Love thing right and I’ve done the Love thing wrong, but now I do believe myself to be at some sort of happy middle ground. I “deal” in much healthier ways now and pretty much all of them benefit you (the men I’ve Loved).

If I have ever had a crush on you and made things terribly awkward by telling you (I am honest to a fault and I will not apologize for this), take comfort in knowing that you now have a prayer warrior praying for you, your physical and spiritual wellbeing, and the success of any future relationship you might have. If I have ever dated you, I pray with the same intentions for you. I pray the Rosary, the Divine Mercy Chaplet, offer my communion for you at Mass, say a Hail Mary or simply ask the Holy Spirit to be with you when you cross my mind.

You are a part of my life that I think deserves acknowledgement. You aren’t just a paycheck or a body - you are a human being of intrinsic value and worth. And, however briefly, you have been loved by a woman. Take it for what it is - a compliment to you! - and take heart; somewhere out there, the perfect person is (hopefully) preparing themselves for you. Heaven knows, I pray for that too!

Finally, not exactly on topic but not exactly off...if you have ever Loved me. Gentlemen. I must apologize because I am not sure I will ever be comfortable with receiving positive attention. That probably makes me exceptionally weird and awkward if you’ve ever tried to tell me...believe me, I’m sorry. That being said, if you ever work up the nerve to tell me please know 3 things.

1) Whether I Love you back (having a crush is a type of Love y’all) or not, I am honored you asked me out/told me. Seriously. And I will probably thank you for it. It’s no small thing, getting up the nerve to ask someone out. I understand that and I appreciate you thought I was worth doing it for!

2) I won’t ever downplay it or talk about it in a negative light with my friends/peers. I won’t deny it happened, no matter if it turns out to be the absolute worst date ever in the world. It’s not nothing. On a scale of 0 -10, 10 being the most important, getting asked out/having a guy tell me he likes me makes at least a 5 in my book. And since I’m not in the habit of lying, you can just take this at face value - but seriously, any friend I have ever talked to about guys can attest to this fact.

3) It’s gonna be a little pick me up, probably for years to come. In case you couldn't tell from this ENTIRE post, this isn’t the sort of thing a girl forgets.

So. To the men I’ve Loved, however briefly. This is my thank you, my encouragement and my acknowledgement of how you’ve touched my life. You remain in my prayers. Pax vobis. 

To My Fellow Leaves

To My Fellow Leaves, the Common People of this World:

Greetings. The world has an awful lot to say about us these days. Once a year, it seems, we can be sure of getting our due. Social media is full of breathtaking pictures of us, accompanied by a quote of some sort. These quotes, of course, have varying degrees of inanity that are meant to be profound and too often, fall short.

Nevertheless, now is our time to shine. We, the commoners. The ones who are never missed except when there is no shade. The ones who clean the very air around us and help make the world a better place by plodding along day after day, doing the very same things over and over again with no immediate result. We are the good people. The overlooked. The caregivers. The people who are not fully appreciated until we start to die, fall to the earth and begin to be trodden underfoot. We, the servants. We are the leaves.

I have, my dear compatriots, discovered a quote I think as describes us best. It reads as follows.

~

The tragedy of the world is that so many are unloved. Roses always look beautiful and smell sweet, and hence they are a prize to be possessed. Sweetbriar, however, has fragrant leaves, and they are never so fragrant as when it rains. The common people of the world are like these leaves; they have something fragrant about them, particularly when the days are dark and clouded and rain falls in their lives. Anyone can love a rose; but it takes a great heart to love a leaf.

Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen

~

It takes a great heart to love a leaf.

It takes a great heart to love a leaf.

What is loveable about monotony? Are we loveable when we feel that in the great play of life, we were cast in the part of the drudge? Who else is discouraged every time you vote seeing the immoral candidates win? Who else gets tired of turning the other cheek but at the end of the day, turns it anyway and will turn it again tomorrow? Who volunteers at church? Who doesn't need recognition but SOME appreciation would be nice once in a while? Us. The leaves.

The road to notoriety is paved with anonymity. And yet, it's not really notoriety we want, is it? We just want our ordinary, every day sort of goodness to take root in this aching world that so badly needs our love and yet avoids admitting it at all cost. We want to feel like we are making a difference.

The world is a scary place right now, but like Gandalf, I happen to beleive it is the ordinary folk who keep great evil at bay through small acts of kindness and love. Gandalf, a great wizard (and to go along with the analogical theme of this blog post, a rose), looked to Bilbo (a nobody, a leaf) for courage when he foresaw the doom of the world. The rain had started falling fast and heavy and suddenly the little everyday actions of a hobbit were what could save the world.

My fellow Leaves, Commoners, Peasants, Ordinary Folk...it takes a great heart to love us. And on days when you feel forgotten, remember that the greatest heart of all (God) sees your worth and values you right along with the roses.

The rain is coming, friends. It is to you the world will turn when things go wrong. Be ready to astound the world with the fragrance of your ordinary little lives.