Wedding Novena to Saint Joseph

In less than two weeks, Ryan and I will be married. Holy cow.

This is more than just walking down the aisle, cutting the cake, and enjoying all of the wedding traditions; we are vowing to love and honor one another as husband and wife no matter what. The rest of our lives hinge on these simple words of profound meaning, and despite our best attempts to take in marriage advice from friends and theologians, nothing can truly prepare and sustain us like God's grace.

There is much left to do as we prepare for "the big day," but thankfully, we aren't nervous or even too stressed out (thanks in part to leftover Christmas cookies and wine!). Instead, we've been amazed by the generosity others have shown unto us. Our friends and family members have given us an overabundance of beautiful gifts to help us start our married life. My coworkers have been patient with my not-so-subtle attempts to sneak in wedding planning alongside youth ministry. Our friends have understood our busy schedules and have added much joy to these happy celebrations. Our families have increased our excitement as we count down the days. Truly, we are blessed beyond anything we could imagine.

Many people have offered to help us in regards to last-minute wedding plans, and we truly appreciate it (check back in a week, and I'll have a list long enough to make you regret offering)! The best way you can help us is to please pray for us: for our preparation to receive the Sacrament of Matrimony, for our guests' safe travels, and, yes, for the serenity to accept whatever goes awry on the big day itself.

As Catholics, we are quite fond of Novena Prayers. A novena is a series of prayers of petition and/or thanksgiving offered unto God for nine consecutive days. It's a tradition that dates back all the way to the Apostles, who, with Mary, spent nine days in prayer between Christ's Ascension into Heaven and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Like asking friends on earth to pray for us, we also ask saints and loved ones in Heaven to pray for us, too.

Before Ryan and I met, I prayed a novena to St. Joseph and asked him to lead me toward a good, holy, and just man not unlike himself. Well, his prayers worked! Shortly after I finished the prayer, Ryan and I had our first date and the rest fell into place. As our model of humility, charity, trusting faith, and selfless devotion, we are turning to St. Joseph's intercession again as we start our married life (plus, we already know he's rooting for us)! 

Starting on Thursday, January 1st (on which day Catholics celebrate the Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God), we will begin our nine-day novena to St. Joseph, concluding on Friday, January 9th. If you would like to join us in this novena prayer, we would appreciate it much more than we could ever express. However, any and all prayers you might offer on our behalf are equally precious to us.

If you are interested in joining in our novena to St. Joseph, please offer this prayer every day from January 1st through January 9th. If you miss a day or jumble the words, don't worry; your guardian angel will take care of it ;-)

Oh, St. Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the Throne of God, we place in you all our interests and desires.

Oh, St. Joseph, do assist us by your powerful intercession and obtain for us from your Divine Son all spiritual blessings through Jesus Christ, our Lord; so that, having engaged here below your heavenly power, we may offer our Thanksgiving and Homage to the most loving of Fathers.

Oh, St. Joseph, we never weary contemplating you and Jesus asleep in your arms. We dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press Him in our name and kiss His fine head for us, and ask Him to return the kiss when we draw our dying breath.

St. Joseph, patron of departing souls, pray for us.

Amen.

Again, thank you all so much for all of your prayers, kind words, and warm wishes. They mean so much to us and our families. Please, know that we are praying for you, too.  



At St. Clement Church, where we met.

Forgiving the Impossible

In my junior year of college, a few friends from my high school youth group and I travelled to Jacksonville, Florida to help start a Kairos retreat program for juniors and seniors. Looking back now, this experience was one of the first signs that my heart was called to serve the Church in youth ministry. At the time, however, I was grateful simply to give unto these teenagers what had been given unto me years ago. When, as a high school student, I participated in my own Kairos retreats, it revolutionized my Catholic faith and deepened my prayer life beyond anything I ever could have imagined. Had I not attended this retreat, I'm not sure where my personal faith would be today, and I almost certainly wouldn't have continued down the road that led to youth ministry. Kairos opened my eyes to recognizing God's presence in all things, and I couldn't wait to share this gift with our Florida teenagers.

The four-day retreat was filled with sharing many personal testimonies, receiving affirmation letters from home, and finding peace through small group and one-on-one discussions. By day three, the teenagers were deeply immersed in the retreat and started opening up about the various crosses they each were carrying. We could see the work of God in each of their hearts as even the most obstinate young men and women were starting to see Christ's presence. For some of them, the victory was found in learning to accept that, perhaps, He does exist after all.

On the evening of the third day, the teenagers were invited to participate in one-on-one discussions with us leaders. We were each scattered throughout a large room, seated with small candles and waiting for the retreatants to approach us. After waiting for a few moments, a sweet girl from my own small group and her friend came and sat down before me. After a few friendly exchanges, she grew serious and shared with me that there was something she was deeply struggling with. When I asked what was going on, she responded with words that left me speechless:

"A few guys from high school raped me, and I'm having a hard time forgiving them."

What on earth do you say to that? How do you possibly address the horrors of what she had to endure, while also answering her seemingly impossible question? How do you help a sixteen year-old girl forgive multiple guys who raped her?

There are no words to give in response. There is no easy solution, because no one should ever have to grapple with such pain. And yet, here she was with a genuine desire to forgive these despicable guys for their unforgiveable act.

She had to face them every day at school. She never received an apology. No justice was ever served. And yet, she wanted to forgive them.

“To love means loving the unlovable.

To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable.

Faith means believing the unbelievable.

Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless.”

-G. K. Chesterton

At sixteen years old, this young woman had more faith and courage than anyone I'd ever met. Even the Theology Professors at Notre Dame couldn't hold a candle to her.

Trusting in the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I spoke with her about the mere fact that she had the will to forgive was already incomprehensibly saint-like. We spoke at length about God's peace and healing, about the grace in having true friends like the one at her side, and about the strength and courage her heart already held. Being that this experience happened almost ten years ago, I can't recall exactly what was said, but I do remember being absolutely amazed by the peace and courage she possessed. Not even an unapologetic, careless group of men guilty of one of the worst crimes against humanity could take away her faith, hope, and love. She was not allowing herself to be held captive to their crime.

Many would say that this young woman is wrong in choosing to forgive; that she should stay angry for the sake of her own mental health. I'm sure many would fault my words spoken in that conversation and written here in this blog. How can you forgive something so horrifying? How can you forgive someone who isn't even the least bit sorry? Isn't this just adding more guilt, shame, and burden upon the victim? Is it denying them the outburst and vengeance they deserve, and may even need for their own healing? How can we possibly encourage a rape victim to forgive her perpetrators?

The answer is simple. We forgive because we are forgiven, and because forgiveness is the only way that leads to peace. The Amish community in Nickel Mines, PA figured this out in 2006 when Charles Roberts entered the elementary school and shot ten young girls, killing five and then himself. How could the parents and community members forgive such evil? How could they console his horrified widow, attend his funeral, and even refuse to speak angrily about him?

Forgiving doesn't mean conceding that what happened is okay (if it were, there would be nothing to forgive). It doesn't mean forgetting, either (Jesus never said anything of the sort in Scripture, nor did He simply 'forget' about the whole crucifixion thing). It simply means giving up your right to be angry. Someone has done something wrong, terrible, even evil unto you, but you choose not to let the anger rule and destroy your heart. We pursue justice, we hold the guilty party accountable for their actions, but we do not hold ourselves hostage to anger, hatred, and darkness. To do so would only give the sin a deeper, longer-lasting grip over us. Who then, would truly lose in the end? Those who forgive are they who care more for peace, joy, and accepting the beauty of life, rather than losing it in an ugly sea of dark thoughts, bitter emotions, and vengeful daydreams.

But, lest we think that forgiveness is all about making Number One happy, we need to look no further than the cross to know where the heart of mercy rests. Jesus makes the justice of forgiveness pretty clear in The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant in Matthew 18:21-35:

"I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to.
Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?"

If Jesus could forgive us after we betrayed, mocked, beat, stripped, and murdered Him; if He could forgive us even in the midst of these atrocities, crying out, "Father, forgive them, for they know now what they do" (Luke 23:34), then what possible exemption could we declare for ourselves?

May we all learn from the holy strength of this young woman and learn to forgive others, even when it seems impossible and the world would justify us for staying trapped in our anger. Indeed, the Resurrection of Christ and the faith of this sweet girl prove that, "Nothing is impossible with God" (Luke 1:37).

"Bless the Lord, Oh, my Soul."

"My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,

my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.

From this day all generations will call me blessed:

the Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his Name"

(Luke 1:46).

Our Lady of the Streets

Mary's soul proclaimed the greatness of the Lord. From the depths, from the very core of her being, a voice resounded to praise God and rejoice in His Holy Name. This was neither a momentary spiritual high, nor passing excitement over the Good News of the Annunciation; this was the fundamental recognition that eternal salvation had, by means of God's grace, entered into the world through her own body.

My kids didn't realize it, but on this past summer's mission trip to Williamson, West Virginia, they incarnated Mary's Magnificat. It wasn't just by their words and actions that they brought the love of Christ into to the world; something had clearly stirred deep within their souls, leaving an unmistakable sign of the presence of the Lord.

The mission trip was not unlike any other church trip: teens from a rather affluent area travelled ten hours by van to spend a week serving an Appalachian community. Our teens welcomed the opportunity to step outside of the North Shore "bubble" and into a coal-mining town hidden in the mountains where the McCoys and Hatfields once feuded, and were eager to meet the other teens who would be joining us from a Lutheran Church in Minnesota.

As soon as the trip began, the teens began bonding with one another over Fazoli's pit stops, goofy car games, and group chats. When the work projects started, they dove right in without complaint or hesitation. These young people were eager to give unto others, and were thirsting for something to shake them from their daily lives.

Well, that "something" came during the closing worship service of the very first night. The site leaders picked up their guitars and projected song lyrics onto a screen, while teens from the Lutheran group put their arms around each other and swayed back and forth, singing every word to every song. 

Our group, on the other hand, stood in place with their arms crossed and nervous glances that begged, "Do we really have to do this?" As hard as they tried to guess the lyrics, anyone could see that they were incredibly uncomfortable. Then again, with lyrics such as, "Heaven meets Earth in a sloppy, wet kiss," who could blame them?

As the end of the week approached, one of the site leaders shared with me that our last night's worship service would involve a foot washing ceremony, in which the youth ministers and leaders would wash their teens' feet.

Oh, boy.

As he explained how it would be such a moving service, during which almost everyone would cry, all I could think of was how miserably awkward our teens would feel. Our parish can hardly get enough adults to participate in our Holy Thursday Mass' foot washing ceremony! If these kids could just barely get past kumbaya-swaying to cheesy praise and worship songs, how in the heck would they let me (or anyone else) wash their feet? Yikes.

As always, the kids proved me wrong. As soon as the lights dimmed and my fellow chaperones and I began washing our teens' feet, tears started flowing. Not superficial, forced tears; real, flowing, almost-bawling tears from just about every teen in our group. Later that night, the tears continued to flow as the teens shared how the trip changed them. Kids whose parents were under financial strain realized just how blessed they truly were. Some found friendships they never expected to make. Others who weren't too sold on the whole "Jesus thing" had found their faith. The friendship, compassion, and love pouring out in our small group was unlike anything I'd ever witnessed.

The kids didn't just have fun, or "check off" their service requirement for the following year. They may have come on the trip for various reasons (one fessed up that his dad forced him on the trip for service credit), but what they found was a metanoia, or profound change of heart. Like Mary, what they experienced reverberated deep into their souls. Indeed, Christ had truly come into them, and flowed out through their hands and into the world.

As amazed as I might have been by my teens, I was still well-aware of the fact that they aren't perfect. They totally vandalized the other church's vans with car markers and had unsuccessfully planned to sneak out well past "lights out" on the final night of the trip. Little buggers. Even more, once the pressure of academics and athletics sets in with the new school year, it will only get harder for them to remember the immense blessings they received on this trip. As much as I'd like to imagine that every one of these kids will stay close to Jesus for the rest of their lives, I realize that it's highly unlikely they'll all trod in the footprints of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta (I'm not that naïve).

Regardless of how zealously they continue to practice the faith and good works that they each learned on the mission trip , one thing remains: for one week of their teenaged lives, Christ came into their hearts with an unmistakable, abundance of grace.

"For I have set you an example,

that you also should do as I have done to you" (John 13:15).

What to Do When You Feel Like the Worst Youth Minister Ever.

These middle schoolers are going to be the death of me. But, that's actually a really good thing. 

Without fail, the kids at middle school youth group are almost always bad difficult. Some are patient and prayerful, while a select handful who can't keep their mouths shut seem hell-bent on ruining the night for everyone. Normally, I can deal with it. They're young. They have too much energy to contain. I'd rather they be too loud than too quiet. I have a bottle of wine waiting at home.

Today, however, was a different story. Today, I was already stressed out well before they arrived, which meant there was even less patience for them to test. The whole hour-and-a-half-long meeting felt more like six, and was loud, frustrating, and miserable for pretty much the whole time. At least for me. 

The night was themed on the qualities that make a person inspirational, and began with the kids dividing into small groups and drawing their own heroes on posters. One group drew Spanish Jesus (complete with a lawnmower. Yep. Wasn't too pleased with that one). Another drew the Pope (but decided he should have green teeth). Another group drew Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Slayer. And the fourth group drew me. When I saw this, I'd imagined that this would be the turning point of the night. My heart would melt, I'd suddenly remember how sweet and innocent the kids were, and the rest of the youth group meeting would be filled with the peace and joy of the Holy Spirit. 

Nope. Not at all. That gratitude lasted for a minute before it was back to kids talking out of turn, throwing food, and leaving trash everywhere. Actually, that would have been manageable. Instead, they also compared the Pope's vestments to a KKK robe and whispered mischievous jokes when they thought I wasn't looking. By the end of the night, there'd been far too many "I'll wait until everyone's quiets," staring kids down (who am I kidding? They aren't the least bit scared of me), and sending the least-behaved one out into the hall.

The worst part, though, wasn't how the kids acted. They're middle schoolers. They're supposed to be hyper and immature. That's practically a sign of healthy, normal development. The worst part was how bad I was at hiding my impatience. The "nicer" kids actually started to feel sorry for me as they begged their peers to be quiet, and our closing prayer was rushed and dry. I left feeling like the worst youth minister ever. 

Thankfully, there's grace.

While the kids were working on their "Heroes Posters" earlier in the night, I opened my Bible in the hope of finding some source of ministerial inspiration. I actually didn't believe I'd find anything helpful. It just seemed like… I don't know… Whatever... Something to do. Without paying much attention, I "accidentally" flipped right to 2 Corinthians 4: "Integrity in Ministry." Huh. What was it that St. John Paul II said? "There are no coincidences"? Without much thought, I began to read:

"Therefore since we have this ministry through the mercy shown us, we are not discouraged. Rather, we have renounced shameful, hidden things; not acting deceitfully or falsifying the word of God, but by the open declaration of the truth we commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God….For we do not preach ourselves but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your slaves for the sake of Jesus. For God who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' has shone in our hearts to bring to light the knowledge of the glory of God on the face of [Jesus] Christ. But we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body of the dying Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our body. For we who live are being constantly given up to death for the sake of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh… Therefore, we are not discouraged; rather, although our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to what is seen but to what is unseen; for what is seen is transitory, but what is unseen is eternal"

 (2 Corinthians 4:1-18). 

Oh. So, ministry is supposed to feel like this. We're supposed to be "in the body of the dying Jesus," not the resurrected one. I'm supposed to want to pull my hair out on a pretty much daily basis. Christians are supposed to feel "constantly given up to death." After all, didn't Jesus tell us to take up our daily cross (Luke 9:23) for the sake of eternal life, and didn't He also promise to give us daily bread to sustain us on the way (Matthew 6:11)?

I always knew youth ministry wouldn't be easy. Well, I thought I knew that. As I was walking out to my car (okay, huffing), I realized that what I really thought was that the job would be hard… for a little while. I'd imagined that while the first year would be one up-hill road, the whole rest of the journey would be an easy ride off into the sunset. Because, I mean, that's how ministry worked out for Jesus, right?

I'd also always nodded along when people said that ministerial work was just planting seeds even without witnessing the bloom. Sure, that might be true… for some people. Of course, I'll get to see the blooms because I'm just that special, right? Who the heck doesn't want  to see their hard work pay off? Oh, wait… you mean these kids aren't here to satisfy my ego? Oops. 

The full realization of my complete denial and arrogance was all up in my face like a hyperactive twelve year-old, and I couldn't ignore it. 

So, it turns out I'm impatient and tend to think the normal ministry rules don't apply to me. Oops. This lesson learned could just be a major bummer: your dream job is going to be miserable and that's that. But as St. Paul says, "Although our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day." This job is not easy, nor is it always fun (then again, whose is?). For every kid who talks about how much they love Mary (music to my ears), another one complains about bad snacks. But, it's absolutely worth it. Without a doubt, I'd sign up for it all over again. The outer self might be wasting away under stress and difficult kids (hey, I'm no picnic for God, either!), but the inner self is being renewed daily through the silent, steady, forward-moving flow of the Holy Spirit. Somehow or other, the job gets (mostly) done while the ego is slowly purified and emotional highs are replaced with real joy.

So, what does it mean when you feel like your ministry is a completely and utterly shambled mess? 

It means keep going.

One, Holy, Smelly, and Apostolic Church

From April 24 – May 4, I joined a group of twelve young adults from the Archdiocese of Chicago on a pilgrimage to Rome for the canonizations of John Paul II and John XXIII. The experience was incredible and gave each of us memories that we will always cherish. Having personally seen Pope John Paul II in the Vatican Square back in the spring of 2004, the canonization was especially meaningful.

For over a year, I had been eagerly anticipating this trip. I couldn't wait to celebrate the life of one of my favorite saints (not to slight John XXIII!), and apparently, I wasn't the only one who felt this way. Over eight hundred thousand people gathered in St. Peter’s Square to witness this monumental event in Church history.

Eight hundred thousand.

That’s a lot of people… People who knock you over with their over-sized backpacks. People who tragically forget to put on deodorant. People who talk just a little (read: way) too loudly on their cellphones during the Mass. People who get so pushy that you think they're trying to cop a feel. This historical, holy, and sacramental moment would have been just perfect... if only it weren't for all the people. 

While standing among these crowds during the canonization Mass, it was a constant temptation to forget Jesus’ call to love one another (because of course, it's not like I was annoying anyone else, right?). But as frustrating as the person next to me might have been, one thought kept crossing my mind: all of these hundreds of thousands of people belong to the same Catholic Church. We might have been speaking different languages, but we all knew exactly when to join hands and pray the Lord’s Prayer. We all shook hands and exchanged the Sign of Peace with different words, but the same message. We all bowed in prayer during the Consecration. Every single person in that massive crowd was completely unique and entirely unrepeatable, but we all worshipped our one Lord in the same way.

Looking throughout the crowds, we saw people of every age and country. One banner displayed the Japanese flag with the words, “You are our Pope.” A little boy sat on his father’s shoulders and waved the Polish flag (by the way, don’t mess with little, old, Polish ladies. They mean business). Whole families gathered from every continent to celebrate the lives of two men who lived and died years ago. What other celebrity could draw crowds stretching for over half a mile? Who else could gather people from every corner of the globe?

Jesus told His disciples to “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, until the end of time” (Matthew 28:19-20). Despite all odds and persecutions, these twelve poor and uneducated men did it. Somehow, they got the message out so loudly and clearly that 2,000 years later, eight hundred thousand of the faithful would voluntarily stand in a miserable crowd to celebrate two of our eternally-living brothers. What other worldly empire has achieved such a feat?

So, why make such a big deal about our universal Church? Is this just a bragging right, or something more? Being part of a universal Church means many things. It reminds us that every human being on this earth (Catholic or non-) is a child of God, and therefore deserving of love, respect, and dignity. It reminds us that despite our many differences, we are all redeemed by the one cross of Christ, and nourished by His one Eucharistic body. It reminds us that we ourselves make up that one Body.

Until this pilgrimage, I had never really appreciated St. Paul’s words, “Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and  like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 2:4-5). We are all called to be living stones just like Jesus. You and I are the Church. What we say, do, give, and pray builds her up as a mighty fortress. Every single person in St. Peter’s Square on that day is a living stone building up Christ’s Church.

Are you being a “living stone”? Is your faith moving you to take action, to care for the poor and forgotten, to forgive the unforgiveable, and to choose Jesus instead of money and fame? Is Jesus’ light shining a little brighter because of you? Truly, each and every one of these stones is “precious in God’s sight." St. John Paul the Great once said that he didn't like the word 'crowd' because it was too anonymous. Instead, he preferred 'multitude.' Well, if you gather enough of these living stones, no matter how small, you'll get a multitude that is literally bursting through the Vatican Walls and making the whole world take notice.

Just 800,000 of our closest friends at St. Peter's Square for the Canonization Mass.

Going for a Home Visit

I spent last Friday morning at Misericordia, a Catholic residential community for adults with developmental disabilities. As anyone who's ever set foot on that campus can tell you, its spirit is awesome. Truly, awe-some. The residents, whose disabilities range from mild to profound, are given the resources and freedom to flourish in a way that our oftentimes utilitarian society might never have allowed otherwise, and they are treated with Christ-like dignity, compassion, and love. 

Upon walking into my usual classroom, I immediately recognized my friend, Brice. He was dressed in his usual khaki pants, collared shirt, and suspenders, and seemed to be his typically warm and cheery self. Except today, rather than pouring through an array of architecture magazines, he sat at his desk with a suitcase in his hand. When I greeted him, he bounced up in his seat and beamed, 

"I'm going for a home-visit this weekend!"

Every time someone he knew walked through the classroom door, Brice was bursting with excitement and couldn't help sharing the happy news of his weekend trip back home. A short while later, when his mother walked through the door with a smile and outstretched arms, he hopped out of his seat (the suitcase was already in his hand) and flung himself into her arms. His love and joy for seeing her was palpable to everyone in the room. As much as Brice may have loved his friends and life at Misericordia, he  was infinitely happy to be going home. 

While watching Brice's thrill at the prospect of going home, I caught a glimpse of what it might be like for a soul going to our real Home: Heaven. A few years ago, a parishioner in the Church parking lot was walking into Mass with a big smile on his face, and he explained that he "had his ticket punched." When I asked what he meant, he beamed and said, "I've got my ticket punched; I'm ready to go Home whenever God calls me!" 

That's a far cry from the attitude most of us seem to take toward Heaven. As Kenny Chesney sings, "Everybody wants to go to Heaven, but nobody wants to go now." And unfortunately, he's right; it's all too easy to put eternity on the back burner when there's plenty to concern us here and now. As a Theology student, the thought of Heaven actually started to scare me. I'd heard many descriptions of what this eternal paradise might resemble, and none of them sounded much like "paradise" to me. Professors described the joy of the Beatific Vision (CCC 1028) as if it were an unending Mass, which sounded, um, boring. Eternity itself sounded monotonous and tiring. Needless to say, unlike Brice, I had a few questions that needed answering before I could ever fling myself into Heaven's embrace. 

But as a dear friend shared of her conversation with then-college-professor Fr. Barron, "You are unnerved because what you are thinking about is actually unending time, which is hell. Heaven is the absence of time. We cannot comprehend it here because we are temporal beings, but we can experience what it is like. The moments in your life when you are least aware of time passing, when you are wrapped in a rousing conversation, when you witness something truly beautiful, when you completely forget yourself? Those are the nearest you can get to heaven here on earth."

Something so beautiful, a moment that wraps you so tightly in love, that you forget who you are and how criminally elusive time can be. That's Heaven. When I stop and try to recall heavenly moments in my own life, I see that it's cherishing a bond with a non-verbal Misericordia resident. It's sharing an ordinary dinner with my boyfriend and wishing we wouldn't have to say "good-bye" in a few, quick hours. It's every visit I spent with my Grandma during her terminal battle with cancer. Heaven is found in those little moments where the overflow of love is so powerful that it seems to encapsulate time and replace the typical stresses of daily life with the deepest sense of peace and joy. 

When thinking of Heaven as a deeper extension of those precious moments, who wouldn't want to go now? In It Is Well, Chris Faddis describes the paradox of surrendering a short life on earth to the hope of one not yet seen (Romans 8:24). As he recounts the heartbreaking journey of his thirty-two-year-old wife's passing from colon cancer, he shares a letter that he read to her shortly before her death: "Oh, that this [wedding] ring could keep you here longer. It is a mark of our commitment; it is my promise to love you with my whole heart, and yet there is a greater love than mine that will take you soon. How could this mere piece of gold compare to the love of God, which loves you completely, wholly, and perfectly?"

If our bags aren't packed and our tickets aren't punched, it isn't entirely because we simply aren't ready (cue Brad Paisley's "Waiting on a Woman"), but rather because we don't trust that the life to come is infinitely more beautiful and fulfilling than even the most cherished and awesome moments here on earth. It's because we don't trust that the complete, whole, and perfect love of God will truly live up to its promises. We forget that, as Faddis writes, we were created for a "fountain of love so great and so vast that the [earthly] love… will barely seem like a drop of water on the tongue in comparison." If the most precious moments here on earth are just a drop of what awaits us in eternity, then Brice has unknowingly said it perfectly; we should all be beaming with a hope that rings not just, "I'm going for a home visit," but rather, "I'm going Home!"

Carter, Rozann. "Marriage and the 'Fear of Forever.'" Word on Fire. Viewed 20 March 2014. <http://wordonfire.org/WoF-Blog/WoF-Blog/March-2014/Marriage-and-the-Fear-of-Forever.aspx>.

Faddis, Chris. It Is Well. Higley: Solace Books, LLC, 2013.

Cars and Confessionals

After months of snow and sleet, two rounds of a polar vortex, and street parking in mounds of slush, salt, and dirt, my car was looking pretty darn nasty. Her (yes, my car is a "she") pretty sage color was now a dull and splotchy shade of grey and her windows were so streaky that they looked like someone had been finger painting on them. Actually, she didn't just look nasty; she freaking was nasty. Anyone who lightly brushed up against her was left with white dirt streaks on their clothes, and the insides were worse: dirt, salt, spilled coffee, and much more made riding in her feel like sitting in a garbage can. Seriously, she needed a major makeover. 


When I first bought my car four years ago, I was annoyingly paranoid about keeping her in perfect shape. I parked in the way back of parking lots to prevent scratching, and suspiciously eyed anyone who dared eat or drink in her. She was my "baby," and I was going to keep her in near perfect shape for as long as I could. Seeing the sorry sight she was now would have made me hurl. Actually, I probably would have scrubbed, vacuumed, and wiped down every nook and cranny in a semi-OCD trance. I should probably mention that I have never been a "car person." If it weren't for my dad's advice, I'd have just picked out whatever was prettiest and not given a moment's thought to however many cylinder engines it was… whatever that means.


I've heard that the winter time is the most important time to get your car washed for good long-term maintenance, but I kept putting it off. If I wasn't short on cash, I was just too lazy. Or, I'd settle for the excuse that it was just going to snow again anyway, so why bother? Might as well wait until the springtime, right? Even then, April showers would have provided at least another month's worth of further excuses. 


Aren't these the same excuses we use to put off receiving the Sacrament of Reconciliation? I'm too busy. The Church's schedule doesn't work with mine. I don't like that priest. Why bother if I'm going to just repeat the same sins again? Then, there are the deeper reasons that hold us hostage from the sacrament: being too ashamed of the gravity of sin, fearing judgment and condemnation, or feeling so spiritually "numb" that we don't even realize how desperately we need God's love and mercy. 


On February 19th, Pope Francis called all the faithful to "be courageous and go to Confession" (http://www.ncregister.com/daily-news/pope-francis-be-courageous-and-go-to-confession/#ixzz2u6CkhXx8). The idea of sitting down before a priest and pouring out all of the sins we don't want to admit even unto ourselves is intimidating, but only because we are so ransomed by shame that we ignore the merciful love that God is just waiting to flood into our souls. If we truly realized how much God loves us and wants to heal us, confession wouldn't require that much courage. Indeed, 

"For as you return to the Lord, your kindred and your children will find compassion with their captors, and return to this land. For the Lord your God is gracious and merciful, and will not turn away his face from you, if you return to him." (2 Chronicles 30:9). 

The Lord is gracious and merciful, not hot-tempered and begrudging, so why do we turn away from Him? Naturally, no one wants to acknowledge their sins and shortcomings. However, Pope Francis again reminds us that this is not only normal, but even healthy. “Even embarrassment is good. It’s healthy to have a bit of shame. ... It does us good, because it makes us more humble.” There'd be something wrong if we weren't ashamed of our sins; that embarrassment is the sign of a healthy conscience. The only problem is forgetting that God's merciful, all-embracing arms are will wrap themselves around us no matter how dirty we are.


On our Confirmation retreat, we welcomed our freshmen to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation, and almost all of our 57 teens accepted the invitation. For some of them, this was their second reconciliation ever. At first, no one wanted to go. Our four priests waited alone in their confessionals, while the teens sat hunched over in their pews and waited for someone else to go first. After two or three teens mustered up the courage, the rest followed shortly and formed lines stretching all the way down the pews. Once receiving the gift of God's grace, they exhibited all of the signs Pope Francis noted of the freshly-forgiven: "free, great, beautiful, forgiven, clean, [and] happy."


Yes, we are going to commit the same sins again, just like my car will inevitably get dirtied up again. But, it's precisely then that we most need to go to Reconciliation to receive the sanctifying grace that will strengthen us to resist those recurring temptations and sins… those recurring "thorns in our flesh" (2 Corinthians 12:7). Indeed, "the regular confession of our venial sins helps us form our conscience, fight against evil tendencies, let ourselves be healed by Christ and progress in the life of the Spirit. By receiving more frequently through this sacrament the gift of the Father's mercy, we are spurred to be merciful as he is merciful" (CCC 1458). Plain and simple, the more mercy you receive, the more mercy you can give (Matthew 6:14).


So, I finally got my car washed, and she looks awesome. Like, brand new, let's-take-a-roadtrip awesome. Even still, the way the sun glimmers on her is nothing compared to the divine love glimmering in our souls, the divine love and peace that is waiting there for each and every one of us. After all, soap suds only clean the surface; grace fills the soul.

 

May today there be peace within. 

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. 

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. 

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. 

May you be content knowing you are a child of God. 

Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. 

It is there for each and every one of us.

-St. Therese of Lisieux