No matter where you are or what time of year, never underestimate the power of a refreshing stroll in nature. Even now, with the first leaves of the season just beginning to peek into the world and the remnants of winter still floating on the chilly air, there is so much beauty to be seen. Have a blessed day!
Although it thrills me to say that I have beat the dating game once and for all and have been happily married for months, the fact is that this stage of life together is still relatively new to both of us. I am still falling head over heels for my husband and there is no end in sight to the days of me gushing about how much I love him.
I count my blessings every day that I get to spend with the man who single handedly ruined dating for me. Even as a shy awkward teenager when dating meant sitting close together at the lunch table, I hated it. I always wanted to find my person but attracting him seemed a long, confusing, arduous ordeal. I was constantly turning to my mom for advice on what to say and what to do in response to potential love interests. Even after graduating and entering the workforce and adulthood, I was still on the phone with her every time an acquaintance got up the nerve to ask me out. She was my ultimate dating coach while on the hunt for Mr. Right and counseled me to keep my options open, watch out for red flags and, as every good Catholic knows, pray about it.
When I met my husband things went a little differently. I still called my mom on my way home from our first date but not to ask for advice. I’d just spent an entire afternoon with a sweet, old fashioned, Catholic, dreamy soldier man on the best first date I’d ever had and was over the moon about it. Given my track record of dead end first dates, this was the very last thing I’d expected.
However, the excitement didn’t peter out over the next few weeks as was always the case with others. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I’d never be able to marry anyone else. His general motto is “I am here to serve” and from the start of our love story it was obvious that he consciously lived by it every single day. In all my life I’d never met anyone like him and I suspect I’m not likely to again. I knew I’d never be able to return to the dating game after meeting him. My only choice from then on was to become the kind of good Catholic woman that could be married to him.
Only upon later reflection did I realize that’s exactly what marriage is all about. We’ll spend the rest of our lives shaping ourselves into good partners for each other.
I know my dad isn’t actually Indiana Jones. He’s not an archaeologist for one thing, although engineering seems close enough in my book. Many kids grow up revering their fathers as Superman but that just isn’t my dad’s style. My favorite moments with him are not displays of super human strength or laser vision to quell his challengers. He has a mind for history and numbers and a propensity for frequent off-trail quests, many of which make use of the rope or assortment of other outdoor necessities he carries in his hiking pack, ever the prepared eagle scout. More than once he’s come to the rescue of fellow hikers in tight spots while out on the trails. He long ago traded in his cape and tights for a stained, felt fedora and a faded leather jacket. To this day the theme from Raiders of the Lost Ark rings in our ears whenever we take a drive into the wilderness for some healthy outdoor adventure. I thank God for not giving me just another Superman.
“God loves us in our brokenness.”
This was a sentence spoken in a homily on one Divine Mercy Sunday which reduced me to tears. It was perfectly timed, coming immediately after a confession in which I divulged my deepest regret. I had just confessed to being broken. I don’t mean to say that I was a victim of circumstance or abuse or even that my heart had been mangled beyond repair. My brokenness was not that of a discarded toy. More like an out of tune piano with a few broken strings. A practiced pianist could still bring forth countless sweet melodies but until its final tune up (purification of purgatory) there are some keys that won’t play.
By consequence of my own bad decisions, I was, I am and I will always be at least somewhat defective as a follower of Christ in this earthly life. No one can rewrite the past, no matter how much we might wish to at times. Of course, I understand that past mistakes don’t necessarily make me a worthless human being but there was one in particular that still haunted me as I approached my sacraments. In my newly found faith I knew that God deserved better. Thankfully, He did not abandon me to my regret.
In that confessional and throughout that homily as the priest’s eyes found mine, I believe I met Christ. I had previously accepted and practiced His teachings but on this Divine Mercy Sunday we came face to face. My deepest shame was met with an overwhelming, seamless, outpouring of kindness, compassion, love and forgiveness which struck me to my core. I can still see the young priest’s face, glowing warmly from sunlight through a nearby window, his eyes smiling paternally as he said these words to the assembly while looking directly at me. Another piece of the wondrous puzzle which is our faith finally fell into place. God’s forgiveness is so much bigger than me and my sins. I can still recall the flood of relief from this realization every time I think back to that day.
We are all broken. In some way we all have a few busted strings and are defective in our pursuit of Heaven but, mercifully, God loves us anyway; perfectly, completely and without condition.
As I was scrolling through the thousands of photos that my family has collected over the years I came across these and was newly amazed at God’s handiwork. My dad snapped these during a family trip to Arizona while we were enjoying a tour of Antelope Canyon. Can you see the candle, the fist and the bear?
I am officially a toddler in catholic years. Yesterday was my two-year anniversary as a baptized and practicing Catholic. I am a more dedicated follower of Christ than I have ever been but the journey continues. God is almighty and infinitely merciful. I look forward to many more years of learning and growing in Him.
Yesterday was Easter Sunday when we celebrated the Resurrection of Christ from the dead and renewed our own baptismal vows. This is the perfect time to light our baptism candles once again and pray for a renewal of spirit. The joy of Easter and the Resurrection will carry us all the way to the feast of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles. I pray everyone has a happy and blessed Easter season.
John 19:33 – But when they came to Jesus and saw that He was dead already, they did not break His legs. However, one of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, and immediately blood and water came out… For these things happened so that the Scripture should be fulfilled, “Not one of His bones shall be broken.”
Today we mourn Christ’s suffering, crucifixion and death. Out of love for us God sent His only Son to die on the cross for our sins so that we might be saved.
I don’t normally post on Thursdays but this is Holy Thursday and I was blessed with a special experience this year regarding this day on the liturgical calendar which caused me to dig deeper into the Catholic faith. I was asked to participate in the Washing of Feet. Many people are aware of this beautiful tradition in the Catholic Church in which the priest washes the feet of twelve parishioners in memory of the Last Supper as Christ washed the feet of the twelve disciples. It is an incredibly humbling display of service and discipleship for both the priest and those having their feet washed and I was honored to be asked.
However, even as I agreed to participate, I felt a nagging hesitation in the back of my mind as I struggled to recall something my mom had once told me about the foot washing and how it was traditionally reserved for men. Back at home I called her to learn more about this Catholic tradition in which I was soon to take part. She was more than happy to speak on the subject and sent me a few resources to dig further into the practice, having done quite a bit of research herself.
I discovered that this tradition is indeed about service and discipleship, but a particular kind of service, that of the priest and the institution of Holy Orders. Without Holy Orders, we would not have priests. We need priests to confer the sacraments, especially Reconciliation and the Eucharist. Indeed, without holy men to enter into the priesthood, we would not have a church. Instituting the priesthood on Holy Thursday, I learned, began the lineage of apostolic succession, from those men gathered at the Last Supper right down to the priests in our very own parish! What a gift!
This is a kind of service which I as a woman will never be able to perform. I don’t feel at all disrespected or excluded to acknowledge this. On the contrary, I love that the Catholic Church celebrates the complementary nature of men and women for it is through our differences that we best serve God. For myself, I can think of no better way to profess my love for Christ than through service in holy marriage and it brings me no end of relief that I have been called to such a marriage. My Catholic wifely duties don’t make me any less worthy to receive God’s saving grace than those holy men who enter into the priesthood. I simply am called to a different kind of service.
Although the foot washing has been made available to men and women by our Holy Father, Pope Francis, I realized that I am not the ideal candidate for this Holy Thursday tradition and ultimately declined the invitation although I will be blessed to be present to see my husband participate. I was truly honored to be asked to take part in the foot washing as it gave me an opportunity to dive deeper into the faith and the history behind this tradition in our beautiful Catholic Church. However, knowing what I know now, I am also equally happy in my decision to be an observer rather than a participant.
Thank you to all the holy men who have chosen the priesthood for all that you do.
Yesterday was Palm Sunday when we triumphantly celebrated Christ’s arrival in Jerusalem and the start of Holy Week. Although this is a joyous week for Catholics around the world as we all prepare to celebrate the resurrection of Christ next Sunday, it holds particular significance to me as it also marks the anniversary of my induction into the Church. Just a couple of short years ago I was passing out palms to parishioners before mass although I quickly discovered that they were the ones welcoming me.
That week I felt almost like a celebrity as people I’d never met before stopped to chat and congratulate me on my imminent baptismal promises. I heard many conversion stories from my fellow parishioners as well as expressions of love for Christ and for me, a soon to be baby Catholic. I believe this was the Holy Spirit working in my life, softening my heart in a final preparation to receive Christ.
Over the next six days our lenten fasting will come to an end as we remember the Last Supper on Holy Thursday. Here we will also participate in the Washing of the Feet as Christ washed the feet of his disciples who would become the first priests of the Catholic Church. We will commemorate the crucifixion and death of Christ on Good Friday and eagerly await His resurrection on Easter Sunday.
I pray that this week is a time of reflection for all Catholics to remember their baptismal promises and consider how they continue to hold true today. Why are you catholic? How do you give glory to God in your life?
Blessed in the Midwest 