October = Holy Rosary

I have the rosary on the brain.

October is the month of the Holy Rosary, but I was compelled to start praying the rosary for the first time before I knew of the coincidence. It started week before last. I suddenly felt like giving it a shot in the middle of the day. Digging through my big ol' bag of books and literature, I located a pamphlet I had snagged from the church months and months prior. It was very well laid out and made all five decades go very smoothly.

A few days later, the urge hit again. This time I completed the prayer on my drive to retrieve my kids from school. It hasn't stopped there. Over the past two and a half weeks I have prayed the rosary five times. I'm not one to have patience with repetitive tasks, so I surprised myself by looking forward to this prayer time and not finding it tedious. In fact, it seems to go by rather quickly.

There are rosaries all over our house. The kids each have several that have been gifted to them. I received some beautiful ones myself since my conversion. Last month some family members took a trip to Europe and brought me back more rosaries from Milan. Every rosary has a memory or a person or an intention attached to it.

This one I purchased for myself. It stays on my bedside table. The large diameter of the beads and the overall size
make it easy to pray in the dark while falling asleep.

A sweet simple and light rosary from Spain, brought back by my father in law.
It's current home is the dining room table.

Another one from Spain and my father in law.

Shades of blue are my favorite and my husband and daughter had that in mind
when they gifted me with this rosary last Valentine's Day. It's place of honor is the windowsill
of the kitchen sink. I spend a lot of time in the kitchen and its easy to grab when I am needing
a minute to find my peace again.

This sweet crystal beaded one came from Milan and was picked out for me
by my grandmother in law. She is in her 80's and greatly enjoyed her trip to Europe.

And finally, my favorite one. Gifted to me by one of the dearest holy women in my life at
my baptism last Easter. It stays with me either in my car or in my bag and is the most used by far.

I'm fond of just keeping a rosary in hand during my daily prayers. It helps to center and focus my mind and body. As Catholics we believe in praying with our entire being, and just having something tangible to hold on to or orient yourself towards can enhance your prayer life greatly.

 Long long before I believed in our Lord, I still found comfort from religious objects. That should have been an indication that I was to experience a great change of heart and life and find my way home eventually.

Full Communion

In such a strange twist of fate (or more accurately God's will) I was granted a dispensation to receive the sacraments of Confirmation and First Holy Communion on September 21, 2016.

My eldest son accompanied me to Mass and sat alongside me in the pew with my beautiful friend and sponsor, Christi.

I almost always read the daily readings but that morning I ignored my email containing them and decided to wait until Mass to hear them. Of course, our Lord graced me with the most perfect readings possible for my day of full acceptance into the Catholic Church. As well as it being the Feast of St. Matthew...my eldest son's middle name and Matthew being quite the sinner (which I can relate too maybe a little to well).

Ephesians 4:1-7

I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, beg you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all lowliness and meekness, with patience, forbearing one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of us all, who is above all and through all and in all. But grace was given to each of us according to the measure of Christ's gift.

This entire passage from Ephesians corresponds exactly with the divine sacraments I received this day. I was called to walk with Him, not only to walk, but to walk in a certain manner. One worthy of the calling. Called to be little and humble, loving and patient, and always striving to maintain peace. The passage speaks directly of the Spirit. Confirmation strengthens you with the gifts of the Holy Spirit and obliges you to walk your faith more diligently. For a bit of information on the Sacrament of Confirmation please check this short article out.


11-13

And his gifts were that some should be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ

This refers back to the grace given to us and the gifts we receive and what we are to do with them. Mainly to build up the body of Christ and the unity of His church through living the gospel and sharing it with others. You never know, you could be raising a future saint!

Matthew 9:9-13 

As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax office; and he said to him, "Follow me." And he rose and followed him. And as he sat at the table in the house, behold many tax collectors and sinners came and sat down with Jesus and his disciples. And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" But when he heard it, he said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.' For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners."

Matthew listened. He did not say, "Hold on a second, I've got to put my money in the bank, or tell my friend where I am going, or grab a coffee." He got up and followed. We don't know much about Matthew but he as a tax collector is grouped with the sinners. He heard the call and he listened and his life was forever changed. I love where Jesus says that those who are well have no need of a physician when he is asked why he is hanging out with sinners. He has no need to call the righteous for they are already where they are supposed to be. It is the sinners he is calling to walk in that worthy manner.


I've hand written these readings in one of my numerous journals along with my experiences and meditations on the day. It is one I will never forget. I was finally able to join the feast and quench the thirst and hunger that I have experienced my entire life.

Blessed is she who comes to the table of the Lord.
Amen.

Life Block

You know how some people get writer's block? I feel like I have life block. Most likely a small case of writer's block as well but most definitely I feel stuck in life. Like I'm sitting there staring at each day and struggling to find the actions to complete it. Ideas and good intentions all languish in my brain and fail to come out through my actions. Currently life feels like an ever revolving hamster wheel which only pauses long enough to let people on and off but none of them are me. I would really like an exit pass as I am becoming quite dizzy and nauseous.

I'm missing my friends. Yet its through my own actions that my relationships with them are now strained. How do you fix that? How do you say sorry over and over again before it doesn't even mean anything or matter anymore? I feel like this is just a constant of my personality, to push people away after a certain period of time. My therapist says its just bad communication but I think its my intuitive nature going into overdrive. I pick up on the little cues and bolt before I can be pushed away myself.

The grass is always greener mentality is constantly with me but I know better than to believe it. Still that longing for something different leaves me empty and short tempered. Some days I am just fine with my lot in life, grateful and happy for the generous life I lead. I mean really...what do I have to be unhappy about? Other days I just wish I could pick up my whole family and plop us down thousands of miles away from here. Melancholy is quickly taking over, motivation is waning. I'm tired of it. Very very tired of it. I pray for contentment and wisdom. And mercy. Always always mercy and forgiveness for my ungratefulness. I've got to start looking at this blank page of a day and filling it to the brim. I've got to start loving the way I want to be loved. No one is going to do it for me. The prayer to St. Francis is probably a good place to start...

Solitude vs. Loneliness

I've been thinking about solitude. Solitude versus loneliness.

"All human beings are alone. No other person will completely feel like we do, think like we do, act like we do. Each of us is unique, and our aloneness is the other side of our uniqueness. The question is whether we let our aloneness become loneliness or whether we allow it to lead us into solitude. Loneliness is painful; solitude is peaceful. Loneliness makes us cling to other in desperation; solitude allows us to respect others in their uniqueness and create community." - Henri Nouwen

Is this it?

People watching in a tourist town behind glass. With a beer in hand so it is a double meaning. Behind the window, behind the glass. Pen in the other hand instead of a phone. Dining alone never bothers me. This is self imposed solitude that is anything but lonely. But I'm watching these people walk by, and I'm thinking about counting how many of them are walking looking down. Peripheral vision is not engaged while there is a whole other world in the screen in their hands. I keep expecting one of them to walk off the sidewalk into traffic, or bump into a passerby or a pole. It doesn't happen today.

This is so obviously what I needed. Solitude away from what at times feels like a home in a prison colony. The home itself not a prison, but the location of it, so remote, the community so lacking. Fallen down buildings, fallen out teeth. Overgrown lots, overgrown adults. Burnt out trailers, burnt out addicts. The drive just to get anywhere to experience anything other than poverty is exhausting in itself. Two hours travel just to be somewhere that doesn't feel like its standing still. Alone in the bathhouse turned brewery, perched at a counter in front of a huge picture window, I sat and watched. Savored my beer and good food, counted my blessings, and then I took a walk to see Mother Mary.

I tried to meditate on her solitude.  How utterly alone she must have felt after her only Son gave his life. Then I recall John 19:26-27 When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, he said to his mother, "Woman, behold, your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Behold, your mother." And from that hour the disciple took her into his home. At this point Mary became the mother of the Church, which could come with great solitude but hardly loneliness. I always ask her to intercede for me that I might be a better mother myself and learn to love as selflessly as she, but I think from now on I will include a petition for learning to live in solitude among community so as to not feel lonely anymore.

UNRAVELING MY FAITH: Easter Vigil

I have gone my whole life...thirty-three years...as an unbaptized person walking this Earth. My thoughts on this part of my life were this:

 "I'm a good person. I've never committed any major sins. I try hard to do unto others. Surely, despite my not being Baptized I won't go to Hell. If there is a God and He is as loving as they say, He wouldn't deny me entrance to Heaven just because another human didn't dunk me in a tub of water at some point in my life while telling me my sins were forgiven."

Yes, I was completely comfortable going the rest of my life in this state. Or so I thought I was. There were times that I questioned how sound my reasoning was. No doubt my husband was worried about the fate of my soul. Somehow or other, he didn't realize I had not been baptized until a few years into our marriage. I can look back on it now and laugh because that man had an absolute freak out! You would have thought I told him that I enjoyed killing puppies. Several times over the years after that he would mention that he wished I would go through the experience. He promised it would change me in ways I couldn't imagine. That the Holy Spirit would come down and I would feel it.  I always blew it off, making some anti-religious joke to hide my true feelings on the subject. Because when it came right down to it, I just wished that it had happened when I was a child. In my mind an adult going through baptism (especially in front of a whole congregation) was just embarrassing.

Coming up on Easter, we are attending Mass regularly, I am deep in RCIA, and the kids are getting their weekly dose at our Parish Religious Education classes every Sunday. I know that baptism will be a part of my becoming fully catechized in the Catholic church. And at this point, I am looking forward to it. I've learned so much. I've grown in my faith. I no longer feel ashamed about what I perceive about myself and not being Christian. There is no lingering anxiety about proclaiming my belief in our Lord, and his Son, and the Holy Spirit in front of our parish.

The beautiful thing about coming into the Church as a family, is that the kids will be baptized alongside me. And that is exactly what happened on March 26, 2016. At Easter Vigil (the longest Mass of the year I believe) all four of us were baptized into the Catholic Church using our given names and our chosen saint names. With our godparents beside us making their promise to be our spiritual guides.

Cleansed of our sins. Taking our place in His house. Choosing to accept His will. Reborn and ever so thankful for the gift given to us by Jesus.

Saint Monica, Saint Michael, Saint Peter, and Saint Cecilia.

It's an experience that I can't write about right now. The night is much to personal, each of us having our own reaction that we were reluctant to even share with each other. But there was joy, and tears, and a knowing deep down that all will be well from this point forward.

What I'm quickly learning is that your life is not about you. It is about Him. And He is all about us. So in the end it all comes back around. Loving Him. Loving others. It's not enough to just be the best person you can be. We need His help. With Him we can come to a place on this Earth and eventually in Heaven that we probably could never dream of. Better safe than sorry. Better to give than to take. Better to walk than to talk. Better to be the prayer and not the pray-er.

Traveling Catholic: Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe

At six thirty on a Thursday morning in April,  I made my way up a Dallas city street to the Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

It was semi-dark and quite chilly. Being unprepared to spend the night in Dallas I was underdressed and seeking warmth. I was naturally attracted to the grotto of candles adjacent to the statue of our Blessed Mother. Out of the wind, the tiny little flames provided enough heat to stop my shivering.

I stood next to all the visible signs of prayer offered up. Words, worries, pleas, and thanksgivings all flickering silently in the dawn light of an ordinary weekday morning. The Blessed Mother stood nearby, welcoming and beckoning weary souls to pause a moment and kneel before her. To lay it all down. Let it all go. My own soul was worn out. Tired enough to sit down with her and beg to never leave her presence.

As soon as the doors were opened for morning Mass, I stepped inside. And then I gasped. Words nor pictures can do justice to the beauty of the cathedral. Finding a pew, I knelt and silently sent up my thanks to God in all his glory for this moment. Alone, with few other parishioners nearby, I spent Mass in near constant prayer. At times I wept. Asked forgiveness for lies I had been telling myself. Asked for mercy for my continual sins. Asked to be granted wisdom and strength. Asked that the Holy Spirit be present in my life. I prayed for myself and my problems until there was nothing left.

And when Mass ended, I breathed deeply, feeling much more at peace than when I arrived.

You can find information about the Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe here.

UNRAVELING MY FAITH: Onward and Upward

This post is part of a series I wrote over the last 6 months and am just now publishing...

“I don't care what church we go to, just pick one.” he said.

It didn't seem quite that easy.

I was in the middle of reading Mere Christianity, thrusted upon me by Ina Lou who said I needed it more than she did. I appreciate C.S. Lewis' style and conversational tone and the part about, some waiting in the hall longer than others, but eventually you have to pick a room and go in, well that set me to knocking doors. Or more precisely, trying hard to narrow it down to one door without opening a whole bunch first.

Weighing it all in my mind, I knew with nearly absolute certainty that I wasn't interested in The New Life church. I had mostly already vetoed the majority of Protestant churches. At this point I was leaning towards the Lutheran or Episcopal Churches but upon some digging I discovered that there was no attendees under the age of 70 in their local congregations. So much for trying to do Catholic the easy way.

That's what it came down to. That's where my mind kept coming back. The Catholic Church. I wasn't so sure they would have me, and after perusing various online resources I thought maybe there was a small chance but it still seemed like it might be too hard. Too much work. I knew they would let me in the doors but would they accept me? Could I get to a place where I could be considered Catholic and receive holy communion?

It was much like something or someone had made my mind up for me on a Tuesday afternoon when I found myself with a few hours to kill and parked in front of the church. I cautiously went in, feeling like I was going to get into trouble. I stood in the vestibule for nearly 5 minutes. Reading the bulletins, thumbing through the pamphlets, admiring the rosaries, and staring through the windows into the chapel. I worked up the nerve to go in and quickly took a seat in the last pew on the right side. I sat in silence. Five maybe ten minutes. I sat and took it all in. I didn't close my eyes. I didn't pray. I just sat. After a while I got up and wandered towards the front, examining the candles and studying the statues. Then I walked out.

Across the street was the parish hall (somewhere I had been before during a Boy Scout meeting). This is also where the church office is located and I hoped I might find the pastor there and be able to ask him some questions. Instead I was met with Kaylon. When I say met with, it was literally that she blocked her office door and looked me up and down. I faltered for a moment at being confronted with this person. I introduced myself, asked if the Father was there. He wasn't. I then asked for a church member's phone number (one that I knew and hoped could help me) and was denied that as well. Finally I explained to her what I was doing there, or rather that I wasn't sure what I was doing there. She softened and led me in her office where she spent the next hour answering my questions and completely relieving me of any and all anxiety that I was feeling. She instructed me to come to Mass and RCIA the next evening. On my way out, I met Father John and while I couldn't understand more than two words he said, he emanated happiness and that was a feeling I wanted for myself. Not that I didn't want him to have it, I just wanted a tiny bit of that feeling too.

Wednesday turned into a strange day for me. I went to school to have lunch with Stella and ended up talking to a teacher for nearly an hour. She was pouring her heart out about her marriage troubles. I've never considered myself an easy person to talk to and here was this person I would consider a friend (but whom I only talk to a few times a year) trusting me enough to listen to her heartache. I felt honored to be able to be there for her just for a bit. From there I had a second lunch date with Liz, a former employee at our business, who has been on mission in Africa for over a year. She was happy, healthy and full of life. She told me I had been a big encouragement to her whether I knew it or not and had inspired her to dream bigger and go for it. Again, more balm for my soul. Feeling thankful to be of use or maybe that my advice could be of use to someone.

Later that day, the kids had haircuts scheduled with Jeri Dee after school. I had just found out from Kaylon that J.D. had converted to Catholicism four years prior. Kaylon was her sponsor. So during the kids appointment, I casually mentioned that we were going to Mass that evening.  The rest of the time was spent in deep discussion on the topic and by the time we left she had agreed to cancel her last appointment and accompany us to Mass and RCIA. Another person making me feel at ease and gently guiding me along the road to the church.

That evening, Eli and I attended Mass. It was the first one I have ever been too. It was the first time I have ever been in a church service and felt anything other than skepticism and a bit of disdain. I was completely comfortable, open and happy to be there. I never felt nervous or like I was being judged. It was beautiful, calming, comforting. I felt like I belonged in the exact spot I was standing.

Once Mass was over, Eli went to Youth with friends and Jeri Dee and I went to RCIA. I knew the presenter and loved her style from having taken her World Lit class previously. The hour and a half went by quickly. They gathered some materials to try and catch me up since I was starting half way through the program. Coincidentally (or maybe not) I already had the two books they were offering me. Sitting at home on my shelf were the needed books along with a few other on Catholicism that belonged to Grandma. The only things I took of hers when she died were a few pairs of shoes, her bird mug, her rosary style necklace and her Catholic books.

Again, sitting at RCIA, I felt at ease. Comfortable and accepted.

I spent the next day reading in the books, trying to catch up. Finding it all very interesting and wondering at the fact that I wasn't rolling my eyes, making judgmental observations, or letting my previous thoughts get in the way. It was starting to make sense. I had also started listening to the podcast, Catholic Stuff You Should Know, and it was equal parts entertaining and informing. When I came across the one explaining where Catholics stand on the Creationism/Evolution debate, I was absolutely floored. That got me. It was exactly what I had been saying for years. 

To add to the strange happenings surrounding this entire shift in my life, I had an early Friday morning hair appointment myself with Jeri Dee. I went for a walk that morning, grabbed a coffee for both of us and drove over to her salon. I had a feeling she would be late so I took a minute to call Grandma's friend Katherine. A devout Catholic, and the person who spent the most time with Grandma before she passed, I had questions for her concerning Grandma's faith. Grandma was quick to tell you she wasn't a fan of the church yet she kept prayer cards in her wallet and her rosary on her bedside table. Katherine and I had a lovely long chat and she told me the last time she knew of Grandma going to Mass. She also told me her thoughts on Grandma's faith and it answered my questions.

On to my hair appointment with Jeri Dee. She told me that Christi had approached her after seeing us at Mass and asked a bit about my background with religion and if I had a sponsor yet, and then... offered to sponsor me. Jeri Dee filled her in on what she knew and told her she would let me know that Christi was interested. Again....floored. Christi is an extremely reserved person. Quiet and keeping to herself. She was not someone I would have expected to step forward from the community and offer to sponsor me.  But from the instant the words left Jeri Dee's lips I knew Christi would be my sponsor. There was no question about it.

Moving onward to Mass on Sunday morning. Eli and Stella attended with me, Cash was feeling sick and stayed home with Warren. We entered the sanctuary, dipped our fingers in the Holy Water, made the sign of the cross and approached our pew. We knelt, signed the cross again and took a seat. Again, Mass was beautiful. Again, I felt at ease. Again, I felt happy and calm and peaceful the entire time. Again, it felt like home.

After Mass there was snacks and visiting in the Parish hall before the kids went to PRE. I spent a few minutes greeting people I knew, meeting some I didn't and filling out a bit of paperwork. Then once the kids went to class or off with friends, Christi and I talked for over an hour. She filled me in on her history and I discovered just how much I liked her. She said that she felt compelled to sponsor me and that she had never sponsored anyone before so it felt strange to her to have that urge. And when she told me she bought me a book, well that's when I fell in love! All joking aside, everything falling into place as it did, and the people coming forward or being there to intercept me in the right place at the right time, just seems like too much. Like I am too fortunate. Like its all too easy. When I asked Warren if he was going to attend Mass with me he replied that he would see how far I got then he would go. Seems fair to me. I have a history of getting bored with things. But this feels so wildly different. If only I had known sooner. But maybe it wasn't the right time for me to know yet. In my 33^rd year I came to the Catholic Church and found my home.

UNRAVELING MY FAITH: I've Been Wandering...and I Think I Am Lost

This post is part of a series that I wrote over the past 6 months and am just now publishing...

I've Been Wandering...and I think I Am Lost

That often repeated quote of Tolkien's... "Not all those who wander are lost."

I used to wear it as a badge.  Carry it like a compass and declare it my true North. Brand it searing hot into my flesh so that no one would have any doubt as to the fact that I knew I was wandering and I was perfectly fine with it.

Truthfully? My road has gotten a bit rough lately.

Maybe more than rough. Back alley, big city, stayed out carousing till 2 AM rough. Rutted out red clay, too narrow to drive down, tree blocking the way rough. Dead tired, hungover, sick as a dog rough. Don't read that literally.

I'm tired. I'm very tired of wandering. I think I just want to come home.

I've tried on religion before and just like any fashion trend, it never felt quite right, or only felt temporary. I would challenge myself to read the Bible using a guide and while I sometimes felt comfort from the scripture I mostly felt like a poser. Like I was trying too hard. It was unnatural and I couldn't stick with it. We would attend church and I was always uncomfortable, irritated, and sometimes so amused I would have to stifle laughter during the sermon. Surely this was not the way God wanted me to come to him?

The other day my husband asked me if I ever felt led. It was an odd question, but maybe not considering 10 minutes prior he asked me if I believed in angels in which we delved into discussion on hierarchy and such. But when he asked if I ever felt led, I paused and replied, "Led? No, never led. More like pushed."

His questions prompted my questions. Hard questions you mostly don't feel like asking yourself. And now I feel like I have to go look for answers.