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?

this Glorious Pile of Dirt

...What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt...

Johnny Cash spoke openly of his earthly accomplishments (namely wealth and fame), but in his song Hurt, he notably refers to them as his “empire of dirt”. He offers to give them away, not sell them, implying that at the depth of his being he knew how truly worthless they are. Acknowledging how much attaining them had cost him. How much it had hurt.

I never thought I would be saying this, but I deeply empathize with this Hall of Fame Junkie. Because more and more often lately, it seems like people want my empire of dirt (my life here on earth). Or they want my empire of pure gold (my spiritual life). And I don't know how it looks so good to them. They must surely be insane.

Actually, let’s be realistic. My physical, mortal life is less like an empire and more like a pile. A glorious pile of dirt.

I'm not quite on Cash’s level just yet. I don't offer my life to those who imply with their actions and words that they want it. Sometimes it's because I'm watching out for the person; they truly don't know what they are asking for. But sometimes it is all I can do to forget the ones who try to talk me down or demean me in all kinds of ways. It's hard to keep quiet.

So like a perfectly normal, adjusted millenial, I have chosen to blog about it.

You cannot take someone else's physical or spiritual accomplishments from them. It is impossible. You will always be lacking in some way if you attempt to fill the spot of another person. You will never gain anything worth having, or be a person of merit, if you aren't willing to put in the same amount of time and sacrifice of the person you hope to emulate.

They say that immitation is the sincerest form of flattery. While this is true, there is a line that imitation should not cross.

The line begins and ends with your desire to do what is necessary to gain what the other person has that you want. I'm not saying that you should come up with some grand scheme in order to cheat your friend out of her essential oils business, or that you should steal your friend’s excellent wardrobe in the middle of the night. Not at all. But even that would be more commendable then needlessly and mercilessly putting your friend or acquaintance down out of spite, jealousy, or because they (unintentionally) make you feel inferior.

So often on social media these days, we see other people living the lives we want. We see travel, we see children, we see business accomplishments, we see people passing milestones that we think we should have passed a long, long time ago. We lose our way when we forget our own worth, and somehow think these other people that we envy got a special deal in life. That their lives are so much easier than ours. That they have what we deserve.

What I've gone through has been unique to me. Everyone's walk through life, everyone's path to holiness looks different because it is specifically tailored to the salvation of their soul. My life, both spiritual and non-spiritual, is designed with my eventual entry into heaven in mind. My suffering and my joy has all brought me to where I am right now in my life. It is a good road, but it is not an easy road by any means, and sometimes I am guilty of resenting people who imply that it was. They that speak of my spiritual life as something that can be possessed, not something that is a gift from God. Something that they have just as much right to as I do. Except joke’s on them, because I don't have any right to it at all. But I know that.

You do not deserve anyone else's accomplishments. You do not deserve anyone else’s spiritual life. You are not owed my spiritual experiences. You are not owed my consolation if you are not willing to live through my desolation. And besides, my consolations would make no sense to you. If I told you that my consolation was my suffering, what then? Where would that leave you? Because I guarantee that your spiritual life doesn't work like that.

I'm not trying to say I'm more special than any of you, or that I receive great favors. What I am saying is that it's a dangerous thing when you can look at someone else's prayer life or heck, even their regular life, and feel like it is owed to you. This world owes you nothing. You talking me down for having what you want doesn't change things and won't make you feel any better.

Living the life you want to live has nothing to do with what you deserve or how easy your life is, and everything to do with your disposition.

I've spent the better part of my life clothed in second hand clothing from other people. Sometimes I pass by shop windows or I see ads online and I admire the clean lines and the feel of clothing that has not yet been worn by other people. And I try it on and I look in the mirror and I see myself. And I thank God that He has protected me from ever being well-off enough to buy brand new clothes for myself. Because that is surely a road to hell for me. I'm happier in my threadbare t-shirts than I am in designer dresses from White House Black Market. Not because of the monetary value placed on such items; we all know that the T-shirt would lose. But because of my disposition. Simplicity breeds happiness. I find that I am well suited for simplicity, and therefore, happiness and satisfaction with what I have.

This is not to be confused with settling. Settling for a mundane job, that is a subpar use of your time and talents is not something I would encourage anyone to do. But what I would encourage you to do it's to learn the difference between settling for less and being happy with what you have. It's not an easy thing to discern. It takes prayer. Lots of it.

My first instinct was to tell you that you absolutely deserve to have the best life possible. You deserve supportive family and fun friends, a body that you're pleased with and clothes that you love putting on in the morning, to live somewhere that makes you feel happy to be alive and to feel God continuously by your side. These are all good things, and these are all things that I want for you.

But even as these words were about to leave my lips, I remembered that we are all human and thus, we deserve nothing. We were made from nothing and one day, when we die, our bodies will be nothing again. Nothing in this world lasts forever. So is it worth the angst and drama?

I don't think so. But don't take my word for it. Because all I've got to my name is this glorious pile of dirt.

Shine.

Nor do men light a lamp and put it under a bushel, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven. Matthew 5:15-16

It’s that time of year. Time for resolutions and gymn memberships, diets, organization and reading lists. Everyone’s doing something.

Every year, I try to quit social media as my new year’s resolution. And every year, the Love of My Life gently requests I do not. Because I Listen to Him so well and do all He asks of me, I usually log out of my social media accounts anyway, with or without warning, and delete them off of my phone. Every year, He asks me not to do it but gladly welcomes me back when I start listening to Him again. We each have our own way of being the perpetual prodigal, don’t we?

My particular problem that results in my being perpetually prodigal person is people.

I don’t like people. I can’t stand them. I have a shirt that says “Ew, People” on it that I wear to social events (I met the Bishop wearing it) and first dates (there usually isn’t a second).

I’ve often said I want to be a hermit. I’m not joking. My dream is to live in a hut in the desert or in a cell attached to a church, where I can be hidden from all but God. Barring those options, I would settle for living out my days in a basement, housing a grand piano, surrounded by hundreds of books amd a sign on the front door saying “No admittance, even on party business”.

However, God is my dream come true, the deepest desire of my heart. *cue “Never Enough” from The Greatest Showman,* You set off a dream in me...His desires for me take precedence over any of my mediocre aspirations. He wants more from me than complacency, more than my solitude, more than any sacrifices. He demands from me every part of who I am including the parts I don’t consider valuable enough to give Him. He desires my passion, my salvation. Dear as my dreams are, His completely eclipse mine because they are designed with every part of me in mind, not just the pretty parts; His plans are wholly and uniquely made for me, as I am wholly and uniquely made for Christ.

He isn’t calling me to give up the world by entering a cloister. He isn’t calling me to give up social media under the ruse of “simplifying” my life. He isn’t calling me to give up ranch dressing. He’s not asking for sacrifice. He’s calling me into a rightly-ordered life. Balance. Moderation.

I want to quit social media. It's the thing to do right? It would make me less self centered, keep me from comparing myself to others and give me more free time to spend on God. And it would make my life easier, because social media, much like driving (although that is an entirely different conversation), is impeding my path towards heaven and holiness. I hear God far more clearly in the sound of silence. I feel His presence more strongly the farther I am removed from humanity. I swear I can feel Him slipping from my grasp every time I log back into facebook or instagram.

If you think I love you, I do but I’d be lying if I didn't say I love God more. The day I cease putting Him First is the day I cease to be myself and become something else entirely.

Thus does mankind’s perpetual struggle continue of keeping the eternal present in our daily lives, while existing in this mortal world.

It would be a good thing for me to get rid of it. But maybe this is about me learning to not let it impede my progress. It would be a good thing for me to get rid of it. It would be the best if I practiced the virtue of moderation and stopped allowing it to come between God and I. It is a good thing (a VERY good thing) that diapers exist for babies and small children. It is best when they are potty trained, when accidents are a thing of the past. It is a good thing that I love God to the exclusion of all else. It is best that I love Him more fully and completely, by learning to love Him in His creations that bear His Image in the world.

Quitting social media entirely would be far easier than learning how to balance it properly and I honestly cannot remember the last time He requested anything easy of me. I want to get rid of Instagram so I am less distracted, not as dragged down by the world and have more time for Him. He wants me to make time for Him while maintaining an online presence. He's calling me out of excess into moderation. Quitting would be easier.

I did log out this year, but briefly. I spent NYE in communion with Christ, praying and journalling and weeping like the lovelorn weirdo religion has made me. And then I logged right back in the next day, even though it's the last thing I wanted to do. I'm learning. And I’m done trying to do things my way, done suffocating my light with a bushel basket.

So this was a blog post all to say how I am not quitting social media for 2019. Or ever, most likely. It’s my favorite New Year’s Resolution, maybe because I never actually get the chance to carry it out.

What is God asking of you in 2019? What is He not asking of you, that you are trying to give Him anyways? Try giving Him yourself first. Give Him your obediance; let Him choose your resolution.

Pax Vobis.

Take Me to Church

My first memories are of praying. I would sneak off to my room, hide under my bed, and talk to Jesus.

I was four years old.

I didn’t know I was praying. It would be years until I heard the term “mental prayer”; it would be longer before I fully understood the term. I had heard people speak of it and the difficulty they had doing it. It took me less than a second to decide to keep my ease with mental prayer to myself. I didn’t know why it was easy for me or hard for everyone else. I didn’t know how to explain it. I still don’t. So I hid it.

Currently, I am sitting on my roommate’s couch, my broken leg fully extended before me. My prayer life isn’t what it used to be. The physical discomfort combined with the emotional strain and complete exhaustion from lack of sleep are taking their toll on me. I’m having trouble getting my days straight; I’m not sure how many daily rosaries I have missed or when the last time I said my Christmas Novena was. I haven’t opened my Bible in days. I have the Blessed Is She advent journal. Tomorrow is the Third Sunday of Advent and I am on day four of the first week in my journal. Tomorrow also marks my third Sunday in a row of missing Mass. It’s frustrating and infuriating at the same time.

I know the best way to improve my prayer life is to pray more. I also know I am unable to pray by any of my usual methods. I am not up to speed. I have the attention span of a squirrel in a nut patch or a greedy dwarf in a gold mine. And every time I reach for prayer, spiritual sloth is there to block my path. I am going to be completely honest; I don’t even feel like praying right now. I don’t want to pray. I don’t want to pray. If you know me at all, you know how wrong it feels for me to be saying that. It freaks me out just thinking it.

My prayer life is a far cry from what it used to be. And the effort it would take to get it back feels like an insurmountable obstacle.

This is where I cheat or use crutches to help me get back to where I was. the main thing is to get back to praying. Prayer has a life of its own; once you start praying your prayer will morph and grow and change and change you and then change other things and there really isn't anything you can to to stop it. All you have to do is start. And for when starting seems impossible, there are tools you can use to help.

My main cheat/tool/crutch (whatever you want to call it) is Spotify. That’s right. But instead of music, I turn on the Rosary. I pull my rosary off my wrist and go through the motions until my actions become a prayer. Sometimes it happens instantly. Sometimes it never happens. The point is to keep trying anyway. I have a Rosary and a Divine Mercy Chaplet saved on my Spotify account; all it takes is the push of a button and that is far easier than attempting a rosary on my own. (I also sometime use EWTN streaming for rosaries or litanies.)

My second one has a bit more background to it. I have certain actions/locations I have trained myself to associate with prayer; I mindfully built a habit and it stands me in good stead in times like these. I have a plethora of hand me downs. I say a short prayer for the person I received an article of clothing from every time I wear it. I do the same when using/seeing a gift from someone, I pray for the gift giver. I pray before meals. If a book or a song or a movie brings a certain person to mind I try to pray for them right then and there. I cross myself every time I pass a church where Jesus is present in the Blessed Sacrament. I make the sign of the cross over graveyards and try to drive through them if possible, praying as I go. I pray for people who are dangerous on the road or whose bumper stickers seem like a cry for help. I say a prayer when emergency vehicles pass me on the road.

There are a thousand and one little ways to incorporate Jesus into your life if you truly desire to do so. Keep in mind that these can be tiny prayers: a Hail Mary or a simple ejaculation like Jesus have mercy or Come Holy Spirit. Remember the Sign of the Cross is a prayer.

The third one is my favorite but isn’t available to me right now. It is the practice of putting yourself physically in the presence of God when you would rather be anywhere else. Just to simply be in His presence, to make the effort of seeking Him out, to tell Him through your actions that even if you can’t pray right now, you are showing you still care the best way you know how. Go where you find God. My top places are adoration, graveyards and the beach. Go somewhere you feel physically present to God. You don’t have to pray the entire time you are there. You can say hi to God and then sketch or write or read or cry or type that email you have been dreading sending; the point is that you are doing it with Him and you chose to seek Him out to accomplish it.

The fourth way is the simplest. It is keeping things that remind me of God everywhere: on my person, in my house, in my car. For my readers who aren’t Catholic, we call these Holy Reminders. The name says it all. They are objects designed to bring our minds and hearts back to Christ. Our churches are typically full of them. They can be statues, crosses, medals, paintings or icons, banners or flags, stained glass windows….the list is almost endless.

I did just finish my rosary for the first time in days. I sat myself down in front of the TV, turned on the rosary with Mother Angelica and followed along with it word for word. By the fifth mystery I was finally “feeling it”. - for a split second before my attention slipped and I was back to square one. Tomorrow I will try again. And I will keep trying even though it seems like I am getting nowhere.

Life is hard. Praying can be hard. No one starts off being good at prayer. No one is good at prayer all the time. Our God is there to listen when we speak, heal when we are hurt and hold us when we cry. After the crazy of yesterday, let’s bring the focus back to Him.

R. Adjutórium nostrum in nómine Dómini

V. Qui fecit cælum et terram.