Lilies and Roses

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She had crazy, curly red hair, and the biggest blue eyes you'd ever seen. She hated math and lizards and bugs. Her favorite movie was Mulan, but mostly because one of the previews was for Tarzan. She was ridiculously shy with strangers, but had no problem bossing her sisters around. She loved swimming and reading and singing and reading and running and reading and mostly reading. She knew Jesus, and she knew He loved her. She loved her mommy and her sisters and her cousins, but most of all, she loved her daddy.
Daddy was superman. He could fix everything. He gave the best hugs. He killed every spider. He was king of tickle fights, and could save anything that fell into the toilet. He would roll the windows down and everyone would sing country songs at the top of their lungs. Not very well. He was the funniest person she knew. She didn't understand most of his jokes, but every time they went to the store, he made the check-out ladies laugh. He carried her on his shoulders so she could see the fireworks. He took her fishing and taught her how to filet her catch. It was gross, but she didn't care. She was with him. He got up with her at night when she didn't feel good. He prayed with her before she fell asleep. He held her when they watched tv. Half the time she didn't know what they were watching. It didn't matter. He taught her how to play cards. He taught her how to make lemonade. He taught her how to dribble a basketball. He held her hand.
She thought he was perfect. He was her hero. She loved him more than anyone, and she knew that he loved her. She sang songs, danced dances, painted pictures, did chores, picked daises. She did anything that might make him smile. Even the tiniest "That's very nice." was worth it. He was big and strong and he loved her. From bad dreams to scary people, he would fight off every evil. He was her safe place. She trusted him. He would protect her.
Time passed. She went to school, but then Mommy decided to teach her, so she came home. She studied, and played with her sisters, and she grew. They moved a lot, but she was used to it. Sometimes they didn't live in houses, but that was ok. She trusted Mommy and Daddy. It was like an adventure.
More time went by. The little girl was smart. She was good at seeing things most other people missed. She started to realize that things weren't always good like she thought. Daddy was sick a lot. Sometimes he slept for a very long time. Days. Weeks. She was supposed to be quiet then. Mommy kept teaching her. She learned about Jesus. She read books about saints and learned that Jesus was special. He died for us, and the saints loved Him a lot. So much that sometimes they died for Him too. She went to Mass every morning. When she made her First Holy Communion, she was the most excited of all the kids. She knew Who she was meeting there, and she loved Him. She prayed for her family, especially for her daddy. She waited for him to get better. She waited for everything to get better.
Mommy and Daddy started to fight a lot. She didn't know they could yell like that. It was scary. She cried. Mommy promised it would be ok, but she still didn't understand. Sometimes Mommy cried too. She tried to make Mommy feel better, but it didn't always work. Daddy slept more than before. Sometimes, when he was awake, he was angry. She didn't know what she did wrong. She thought maybe if she did better it would be ok again, but no matter how hard she tried, it still wasn't good enough to make him happy. It was never like before. Now, when she did it wrong, he yelled. She didn't know he could be so loud. She was scared. Disappointing Daddy was the worst thing that could ever happen. She had to do better. Mommy kept taking her to church, but it was different. Mommy wasn't happy anymore.
She went to school. She was shy. She was different. She didn't wear the right clothes. Most of the time, she didn't understand the jokes that made the other kids laugh, and when she did they didn't seem very funny. It was hard to make friends, but she found some. She found her first best friend. They laughed a lot. She learned how to be funny. She learned how to blend in. She couldn't tell anyone about her family, because they wouldn't understand. Besides. If people found out, they would see all of the things she did wrong. It was getting worse. Mommy was always tired and sad. Daddy yelled more. If she really messed up, he hit her. She could never tell. People wouldn't understand that it was her fault. Mommy and Daddy said people would take her away from them. She learned how to hide. She learned that she could see what was hurting the other kids, and that she was good at making them feel better. She learned how to fix things for her friends.
Mommy kept taking her to church, but it was different. Now the girl was angry. God could have fixed it. He could have made Daddy better. He could have given them more money. He could have given them a house like the other kids. He could have made her less different. She was so angry. She decided she didn't want to love Mommy and Daddy anymore. It hurt too much. It wasn't fair. She hated them. She hated herself. She told God that she hated Him too, but she didn't mean it. Her heart just hurt so much. 
Her best friend took her to church. She made friends in the youth group. They were nicer than other kids, and their jokes were really funny. She was still a little different, but they didn't seem to care too much. She met a new youth minister who seemed to understand her more than anyone else. Everyone talked about Jesus. She acted like she understood. She went on trips with them. They were safe.
She was fourteen. The youth group went to a conference in Atlanta. There were thousands of other teens. They were all wearing tshirts and jeans, just like her. They all talked about Jesus. She fit in. They sang songs she knew. She lifted her hands like they did. It was fun. She listened to speakers. They told her God was a Father, and His love was unconditional. It sounded nice, but she didn't really understand. Saturday night. Worship music. Three thousand people on their knees. She knelt too. Incense filled the air. She looked up. The lights were dim. The priest carried the Eucharist in the Monstrance. There was a spotlight on the Eucharist. She started to cry. She started to sob. An entire hour. She couldn't stop. She didn't know why. All she knew is that everything in her, her mind, her heart, her soul, knew that was Jesus. He died for her. He loved her. "I'll never know how much it cost, to see my sins upon that Cross." It didn't matter if she did it right or not. He chose to love her anyways. Now, He was in front of her. She kept crying. She begged for forgiveness. She told Him she loved Him. She started speaking in tongues. That was new. She cried. The priest took Jesus' precious Body back to the chapel. She stood. She lifted her arms. It was different. It wasn't because everyone else was doing it. It was because she was in love. She was free. She was His. That night, she shared a tiny piece of her heart with the other kids in the group, and she wasn't shy.
She came home. She was going to do everything right. She had Jesus now. She was going to make it better. It didn't work. Daddy was still sick. Mommy was still sad. She still fought with her sisters. The house was still dirty. She couldn't do it right. "If they knew who you really are, they would be disgusted with you. Hypocrite. Liar. Phony." At home she was angry and sad. It still wasn't fair. She kept going to youth group. There she was happy. There, she was safe. They understood her. They said she was good. Jesus was there, and she loved Him. Time passed. The cycle kept spinning. It kept getting worse, but she knew, if it ever got "really bad," she could go to the youth group and it would be ok.
She was fifteen. It was summer. They couldn't live in their house anymore. Mommy and Daddy stayed in the car, and the girl and her sisters moved in with a strange woman. They slept on the couch. The woman had different men spend the night. The girl felt dirty when they looked at her. She and her sisters left the woman's house. They lived in the car and slept in the storage unit. It was hot. Daddy was always angry. He yelled. He called her names. He pulled her hair. He hit her. He choked her. She hated him. Real, raw hate. For the first time, she knew what it was to choose to turn away from God. Things changed again. Mommy and Daddy said they were moving. Far away. From Florida to Ohio. She was losing everything. No more friends. No more youth group. No more safe place. No more hope. How could she expect Jesus to love her when she turned away from Him? She knew He still did, but she couldn't see why. "Dear Jesus, I don't understand. My heart is breaking. I don't know what you want, but if you lead me, I will follow you. I will trust you. I love you."
She got to Ohio. They lived in a shelter. She turned sixteen. Daddy hit her, again. They kicked him out of the shelter. Mommy and the girl and her sisters moved into a house just for women and children. She started junior year. She made friends. She met a boy named Daniel. She told him her story. She didn't tell anyone else. She went on a retreat. She felt Jesus' love again. He told her to forgive her daddy. "I don't know how, but if that's what you want, I'll do it. I will trust you. I love you."
They moved into an apartment. Daddy moved back in. He never hit her again. Jesus softened her heart of stone. She learned how to love her daddy again, even though it hurt every single day. Mommy was still sad and angry. Daddy was still sick. She made more friends. People liked her. They said she was good. God took Daniel. She cried. It hurt. She met his family. They hurt together. They loved. They had something she had never seen before. Still, she couldn't trust. They didn't leave. They pushed closer and closer. She was scared. Sometimes she ran. Sometimes she hid. She couldn't let them see her. They stayed. God worked.
She was eighteen. She went to college. She was free. It was safe. She made friends. She started to see Jesus for who He really was. She started to see the lies in her heart. He spoke truth. Her family kept getting worse. Mommy got more and more sad. Daddy got more and more sick. Her sisters made more and more bad choices. She made more and more friends. She met a man that she called "Father."He showed her love she didn't know was real. God changed her heart. She cried.
Spring break. She went home. Daddy went to the hospital. She hates hospitals. She stayed with him. Every day. She was there.  Medication. He couldn't move or talk. So much pain. She had to go back to school. Mommy made the nurse turn down the medication so that she could say goodbye. She told him that she loved him, and she would see him soon. She told him to get better. He couldn't open his eyes, but tears ran down his face. She had to be strong. He held her hand. It was like before. His big hand, her little one. Different, though. This time, she was holding him. They said he was getting better. He was. One month later, Mommy called. "Daddy died." Her heart broke. She fell down. She cried. She went to the chapel. She curled up on the floor. "If this is what it takes to love You, I'll do it. I trust You. I love you."
Time passed. Nineteen. Twenty. She hurt. She healed. She moved in with Daniel's family. Her family. She was scared. She wanted to run. She couldn't trust, couldn't let them in, couldn't let them see her. They stayed. God worked. New baby brother. "You give and take away; blessed be Your Name." More school. New countries. Growing. Healing. Less lies. More truth. More prayer. Abba, Father. Jesus. Holy Spirit. Love. Hope. Faith. Eucharistic Amazement.

Twenty-One.
Twenty-one years of life. Twenty-one years of pain and beauty. Growing. Agony. Ashes. Life. Love.
His unconditional love. His mercy. His greatness. His story. My heart.

"God gives us what we need to fall in love with Him."

My story is how He made me into the person I am today. It's a very simple story, really. There are a lot of details, but what it comes down to, in the end, is that He loves me. He loves me. He pursued me. He fought for me. He protected me. He guided me. There were so many moments of pain and loneliness, but He was always there. So many lies of being unwanted. Unworthy of love, not precious enough to be protected. Lies. Evil. Grace wins. Love wins. I know Him. I know Truth. I am in love with Him in a way that not everyone else understands, because they haven't walked that road. I'm on fire with the need to help them understand, to see beauty in their own ashes, to let Him in.

"Let Me love you."
He's said it over and over and over again, and I'll I've been able to say is "I don't know how. I want it, but I don't know how. You have to do it. I need You. I will trust You. I love You." Sometimes that's all you can say. He gives us what we need to fall in love with Him, always. Joy or pain, it is a blessing, because it teaches us how to fall in love. We learn to give love, we learn to receive love. It's a beautiful mess of grace that is bigger than our weaknesses.

One month ago, He asked me to step out in faith, to step out on the water. I said yes. It's been a month of peace and joy, but also of attack and fear. Lies that have reared their ugly heads and done what they could to convince me that I have to protect myself, that I can't trust, that I can't "do it right." His grace has always been there. I don't know what's happening tomorrow, but I know that right now, He has given me exactly what I need to be in love with Him. That means loving Him with every part of me, and letting Him love every part of me. Opening my heart. Trusting. Letting myself be loved.

It's hard. I get scared. He is always there. He gives me thousands of little confirmations that it's ok. Like last night.

There are only three flowers in the whole world that I've ever given two cents about. First, it was sunflowers. I always liked them because they were different, and because they "Follow the Sun." They were my favorite for a long time, but this summer, that changed. I fell in love with roses. They are Our Lady's flower. Her example has, in a million ways, taught me how to say "I trust you. I love you." Knowing her, growing in relationship with her, has opened my heart and led me to Jesus more than I could ever really describe. This summer, He told me that I am His rose. I didn't understand until I talked to Miss Eva. She explained that sunflowers can pretty much be planted and abandoned, and they'll do just fine. Roses, well, they take work. TLC. Lots of attention. "Let Me love you."Roses.
Lilies are my other favorite. In ancient Christianity, the lily represented purity. That's why it was used to decorate the tombs of virgin martyrs, like St. Philomena. Most of you probably haven't heard about the huge role she played in God's plan for Chris and I, but it's pretty darn ridiculous, in a good way. Purity. St. Philomena. I love lilies.

I love roses and lilies so much, that the other day, I actually went so far as to google image search "Rose and Lily bouquets". They were beautiful. I mentioned this to no one.

Last night was the one month mark for Chris and I. Now, most of you know that I am NOT good at handling it when people make a big deal about things. This was no exception. There were several times throughout the day when I thought "I am so glad he didn't give me a teddy bear or something." Let's face it, one month isn't exactly a huge deal anyways. We went on a walk last night. We got to hang out with some friends, and then we prayed a Rosary. When we said goodnight, he handed me a card. I'd seen it earlier and guessed what it was, so I'd prepped myself and didn't roll my eyes or anything obnoxious (which is what I usually do defensively when he does nice boyfriend-like things for me and I have small internal freak outs). I walked down my hallway, opening the card. Before I could read it, I opened the door to my room, and there, on my desk, was this:

In case you can't tell, those are lilies and roses.
"What in the world made you pick lilies and roses???"
"I don't know. They just seemed pretty. There were other flowers, but I was kind of drawn to those."

... God. Is. Good.

Life.

My life is a crazy whirlwind of beauty and learning and growing and seeking Him and becoming myself and trying to pass classes and ministry and changes and worship and surrender and laughing and tears (sometimes at the same time) and friends and family and a general sense of breathtaking chaos.

I don't have time to give my usual novel-style life update, so here are a few basics....

Academics
Two huge projects due on the same day (Oct. 30th.) Thesis. Reading all of the things, and for the most part that's not an exaggeration. Two days into the school year, Sister Johanna (a Catechetics professor and also my ASL prof) was trying to explain our workload to the non-catechetics students in the ASL class. She said "You don't understand. They're already behind, and they'll probably stay that way." It's true. I've accepted that I'll never actually catch up on assignments. We're basically just trying to keep our heads above water. It's like being a med student, except we are in the business of soul-healing. Well... body healing too sometimes, but that's another story...

Health
The cold from three weeks ago is hanging on with lovely cough-ness, but that's pretty normal. I'm sleeping as well as can be expected, and the past almost two months of no meat, no dairy, no eggs, no gluten has kept me feeling better than I have in two years, which is pretty great.

Ministry
I'm involved in a lot of ministries, but honestly, I think they're the only thing keeping me sane at this point, so I refuse to consider myself over-committed. Please pray for us!

• Homeless - I'm on core team, which is fancy-talk for "I help coordinate things." We travel to Pittsburgh every Thursday, rain or shine, and hang out with our homeless friends under an overpass. We bring hot food and clothes on the 1st, 3rd, and 5th weeks of the month, taking turns with a Catholic Parish that covers supplies on the 2nd and 4th weeks. I. Love. It. 
• Born of the Spirit - This is one of my favorite ministries. It's a three day retreat dedicated to helping people encounter and form a personal relationship (or deepen their personal relationship) with the incredible 3rd Person of the Trinity - the Holy Spirit. It's basically a weekend of diving into Catholicism, seeking to come to know Him through the Scriptures and learning about ways He has worked in the history of our Church. Passionate worship, powerful prayer ministry. Healing. Freedom. Radical love. I've been on core team for three semesters now, and I absolutely love it. [This is what I did with my weekend, and there really aren't words to describe what happened. There were several points where part of me expected literal tongues of fire to start falling. God. Is. AWESOME.] 
• Festival of Praise - FOPs, as they are affectionately called, happen once a month on campus. They are what happens when you shove around a thousand college kids into a gym, crank up the p&w, and call on the Holy Spirit. I'm on prayer teams, which means that after two hours of praise and worship, we book it from the gym to the Chapel, and we break into teams of four(ish) prayer ministers and pray over a few hundred students individually. Just the best. 
• Moses Family - Jenn Moses is a single mom here in Steubenville. She has three sons. Weston has a mild form of Asberger's Syndrome. Alexander, aka Xan, has a degenerative neurological disorder that is taking away his ability to move, see, and hear. Seth, the middle child, is so stressed about the problems at home that he has developed ulcers. Long, painful story short: When Mr. Husband Man found out that the kids had these problems, he said he couldn't deal with it and left. Jenn is a woman of incredible faith, and strength (those things often go together). The Angels and Knights have adopted her family and we help in whatever ways we possibly can. We threw a HUGE surprise, Star Wars-themed birthday party for Weston a couple weeks ago, complete with Knights dressed up as Jedi. Weston said it was the best day of his life. I love my brothers and sisters. 
• Red Light - Every Friday, men from Franciscan drive out to Weirton and pray outside the strip clubs there. We women stay back on campus and cover them with intercession. It. Is. Beautiful. 

Social Life
This is what happens at ministries. Otherwise, it is what I experience with the people who sit near me in the library (which I avoid because I can't focus to save my life), or in between the library and Jazzman's, our campus coffee shop. Household also does a decent job of keeping me socialized. My sisters constantly challenge me and love me and give me opportunities to love them. So do my brothers, for that matter. I am blessed.

Christopher
Well. We all know that the only people who read this blog are the people who are going to be grilling me for details in ELEVEN DAYS when I get to go home and hug/hold everybody. I have to write a paper and put together a project and prep an hour-long presentation and read Catholic things, soooo...... you'll just have to wait till you see me to hear everything. For now, know that I am happy and at peace and that Chris is an incredible man of God, and we're pretty pumped about what He's doing in our lives. To say I'm grateful would be an understatement. Please pray for us. Nothing good comes without buckets of spiritual attack, and this has been very good.

I love you all.

"Do not be afraid. Do not be satisfied with mediocrity. Put out into the deep, and let down your nets for a catch." - Blessed Pope John Paul II 

From There to Here

Oh, how He loves us...

Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act.

Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.

Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for Him…  Psalm 37:5,4,7

Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and shield. Yes, our heart is glad in Him, because we trust in His holy Name. Psalm 33:20-21

…but when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.” Jesus immediately reached out His hand and caught him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”  Matthew 24 30-31

I sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. Psalm 34:4

For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord... Jeremiah 29:11

He frustrates the designs of the nations. He defeats the plans of the peoples. His own designs shall stand forever, the plans of His heart from age to age.  Psalm 33:10

Behold, I am the handmaiden of the Lord. May it be done unto me according to Thy word. Luke 1:38

…we walk by faith, and not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:7

But Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart. Luke 2:19

I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry… As for me, I am poor and needy; but the Lord takes thought for me. Psalm 40:1,17

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, and 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 1:46-49

Blessed is she who believed that what was promised to her by the Lord would be fulfilled.  Luke 1:45

Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless His holy Name! Psalm 102:1

O Magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together!  Psalm 34:3

Emergency Prayer Request

I deactivated facebook, so this blog is now my best means of reaching the cyber-world.

So, howdy, cyber-world.

I need you to pray.

I’ve mentioned before how intensely grateful I am for my household, Regina Angelorum, and for my household brothers. They are the Knights of the Holy Queen, thus named for their intense devotion and the consecration of their lives to Jesus through Mary. They are some of the most incredible men I have ever known, and I do not have words to express the ways that God has used them in my life.

That means I’m pretty darn attached to them…

and THAT means if anything happens to them, it’s a really big deal.

On Monday, something happened.

My brother, Austin Smith, was in an accident in Datona, FL. He hit a wave the wrong way and, long story short, he can’t move. He’s in a hospital in Florida with his family, and doctors are working around the clock to try to get him fixed up.

Now, I don’t know Austin as well as I know most of the Knights. In fact, I’m not sure he even really knows who I am. It doesn’t really matter though. He’s my brother. End of story. That’s just how household works.

Anyways. So, Austin is a Frannie Grad (as of May this year), which of course means that there are literally thousands of people around the world praying, fasting, and otherwise interceding for him like nobody’s business. (That’s such a strange expression…) I would like to give you the opportunity to participate. You can go to his Caring Bridge site HERE and read the full story of what happened. You can also receive the most recent updates as his family lets us know what’s going on, AND you can comment in the guestbook and let my brother know you’re interceding for him and/or offer some encouragement. PLEASE PRAY. I also ask that you fast and/or offer up some kind of little (or big) sacrifice for him throughout the day. Our Father honors sacrifice! (Remember that whole Cross thing?)

Saint Philomena, whose intercession has brought about so many miracles, pray for Austin!

Beloved

I’m a firm believer in the “multiple intelligences theory.” For those of you who might not know, that means that I think there are a lot of different ways to be smart. For example, my sister, Hannah, is absolutely brilliant in ways I can’t even begin to think about without getting a headache (math, science, big technical words and numbers in general, etc.) I have little knowledge in these areas, and even less motivation to learn any of it. However, I am people-smart. I usually understand how people think, and how they feel, particularly myself. Introspection: check. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure myself out. This comes with some huge benefits, like the fact that my inner moral compass is pretty darn solid. I am almost always aware of when I’m doing right or wrong. Unfortunately, this doesn’t keep me from ever doing wrong. I’m working on that part.

Anyways. With all of my thinking, I’ve spent a decent amount of time contemplating my own heart. I’ve learned a lot about my desires, passions, fears, and much more besides. It’s been quite a journey. I’m grateful for the good and the bad, because this process of coming to understand myself has also helped me understand others much better, and to help them understand themselves. It’s a good time.

The thing is, lately I’ve been coming to realize how unsatisfied I have been in this whole journey. Yes, I’ve learned a  lot about myself, and yes I have processed almost nineteen years of life (my fair share of tragedy and more joys than I deserve.) However, despite the closure that I have come to find, I have not been satisfied.

See, the thing is, it is not ABOUT my heart. My heart is a beautiful thing, but it is NOT the point. The point is His Heart. That Sacred Heart that captured mine so long ago, and has stayed with me this whole time. Yes, He was with me in my pains and by my side through this journey to understanding. I have believed that with every fiber of my being since eighth grade. That fact alone kept my head above the water through a lot of storms. However, I’ve still struggled, long and hard, with the feeling that I’m just not getting it right. This may sound like something that should be easy to brush aside… “If you’re giving it your best, that’s all you can do. Just let go. He loves you.” and similar comments come to mind. Believe me, I said them to myself a bajillion times. However, with my inner “This isn’t quite right.” radar going off, it was impossible to move on. So I’ve been spending a lot of time sitting with Him in the quiet and letting Him explain me to myself. Here’s what I’ve come up with. It’s all so simple that I almost feel silly. Whatever. It’s my blog. Let the silliness commence…

It’s not about my heart. (I said that already.)

It’s about His. (I said that too.)

Let’s break that down.

He loves me. Radically. Because of this, He hates to see me suffer.

I’m assuming you’re all still with me.

Therefore, it is His desire to heal my heart.

Right? Right.

So, I should seek that healing.

Right? Sounds good…

Here’s why I was not satisfied:

I was spending a lot of time trying to “deal” with my issues.

I was staring at my pain and begging Him to heal it.
I’ve been staring at my desires and asking Him to fulfill them.
I’ve stared at my questions and begged for answers.
I could go on.

So, my little brother, Judah, is two. He is basically a genius.
(This isn’t a tangent, stay with me.)
A few months ago, he started to ask “Why?”
At first it was really cute. Ok, I’ll be honest, it’s still really cute a lot of the time. However, sometimes…
Marriana: “Judah, you may not poop on the stairs.”
Judah: “Why?”
Marriana’s Mind: “Seriously, dude?!?!”
Marriana (out loud): “Because it’s really gross.”
Judah: “Why?”
Marriana: “Just trust me on this one, buddy.”

That’s just a comical example (and actually a combination of several potty training stories). I have four siblings under the age of fifteen, and all are really, really big on “Why?” When I was little, I swore I would never say “Because I said so...” when I got older, but I find myself saying it frequently. It just doesn’t make sense to have to give a detailed explanation for why my plan for them is sometimes better than their own. It just is.

Oh… I get it.

He doesn’t have to explain Himself to me. His plan is just better. I need to stop asking “Why?” and just trust Him. Yes, ultimately He could give me a great reason for why it’s not ok for me to poop on the stairs (AKA why my life doesn’t always go exactly how I want it to when I want it to.) In fact, if I sit there with the nonsense long enough and keep whining, He will probably end up explaining it to me eventually. The thing is, it is much more time-consuming than if I just stopped asking.

Trust. I need to stop staring at my heart. Yes, it is wild and complex and my pains are legitimate and my desires are understandable and my questions are valid, and the whole thing is one crazy, beautiful mess that He is shaping. However, I am not in love with my heart. It won’t satisfy me, even if I ever actually come to understand the thing. I need to keep my heart where It’s supposed to be. In Him. My heart belongs to Him.

And you know what? His belongs to me. He has given me His heart. I wonder how much time He spends wondering why I ignore His heart while trying to puzzle out my own. 

We were made for romance, and that is something that requires active participation. We have to allow ourselves to be romanced by Him. As a woman, one of the biggest ways I love others is by actively allowing them to love me, by participating in love with them. We have to spend time actively choosing to sit with Him, listening and receiving His love, seeking it in the world and people we are with, allowing it to foster a deeper love for Him within us. This requires concentration. We have to keep our eyes on Him.

The only time I am ever satisfied is when I take the time to receive His love. It’s how I romance Him - by allowing Him to romance me. I am overwhelmed by my love for Him when I allow Him to captivate me with His love. Everything else fades away. It is only me and my Beloved, and suddenly I understand how the Song of Songs and the Psalms came to be written.

Imagine this.
You happen to see a couple sitting together. They’re a cute couple, and something in you tells you that they belong together. That “Yep. That’s gonna last.” sorta feeling. How can you tell? The way He looks at her. He can’t stop. It is clear that He sees nothing else, hears nothing else. Nothing else exists. He just stares. He can’t help it. It’s like He’s trying to memorize her. He is totally, completely, passionately in love. He wants her. He needs her. Not because he literally couldn’t exist without her, but because He is so in love He would rather die than be apart from her.

Yeah. There isn’t a woman in the world who doesn’t want that kind of love.

Now, think about how weird it would be if she turned her back to him and whipped out a mirror? What if she sat there, with her back to Him, staring in that mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of His love and His plan for leadership over her shoulder? Yes, they would still be together. He loves her way too much to ever leave, even for an instant. In fact, sometimes He will go way out of His way to catch her attention, but if she keeps choosing the mirror, what is He to do? He waits for her, patiently. He loves her, passionately. He sits there, everything she could ever imagine desiring and more, while she searches for her answers. Yes, she catches glimpses of Him, and those tiny glimpses fill her with indescribable joy. Still, it is nothing, nothing at all, in comparison to what she could have if she threw away the mirror and looked into His eyes. If she lived like nothing else existed. If she actively participated in His love.

I will seek Him whom my soul loves...
When I found Him whom my soul loves,
I held Him and would not let Him go.
This is my Beloved and this is my Friend.
I am my Beloved’s and His desire is for me.
I am sick with love.
Come, my Beloved.
I will give you my love.

Song of Songs

Because I don’t have words…

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.

- St. Augustine (in Confessions)

Save Me

So much has happened this semester. I am proud of myself for blogging about it. Yes. I know I only posted once. Still proud.

Escuela.
Academically, it was a rough semester. I don’t mean that classes were difficult (though the workload was rather heavy at times). I just really struggled to find motivation. It started out strong, but as time went on I was overwhelmed by the desire to just be done. Just to be out there, actually DOING the work. Being in the ministry. Not just constantly TALKING about it. I expected that feeling, coming back from six weeks of serving in Ireland. Still, it was intense. The Lord really spoke to me a lot about my pride. Yes, He used me in Ireland, but I looking back now, there is so much more that I could have done if I’d had this semester’s knowledge under my belt. My pride would have me run off and try be the super-evangelist. He quietly calls me to be patient, to be humble, and to let Him teach me. That’s what I really want anyways. To let Him move through me – to shine through me like light through glass. His love changing lives. My life invisible in comparison to His glory. I want to disappear in Him. The more I sit still and listen, the more I learn about Him, the more I learn how to step back, pull my agenda out of the way, and watch Him work. He is so good.

Household.
Beautiful. I love my household family. This semester I was blessed with a Little Sister (Emily Dunphy), who both challenged me and humbled me as she went through the process of formation required to become a sister in Regina Angelorum. She is such a beautiful witness of the love of God in this world. I am grateful for her.

  

I am also grateful for the rest of my sisters. Having righteous women, women in love with our God, in my life, has been awesome. They challenge me and teach me, and they are constantly inspiring me to give more of myself. This semester we dove into Scripture and fasting. It has been great.

 
Not only have I been blessed by my sisters, but also my brothers. I’ve gotten much closer to several of them recently, and I love them like crazy. They take SUCH good care of us. I don’t know how to describe the difference that it makes to be surrounded by holy men of God. Their strength, compassion, and intense humility shows me the face of Christ every day. Praise God for brothers.

Hmmm. What else?

Well, I’m going to Nicaragua in fifteen days. That’s pretty cool. Four of my household sister are coming with me. Cooler. Hannah is coming with too! COOLEST. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say about the trip later. For now, please pray for us! Pray for God’s will to be done.

Speaking of God’s will being done…
Is He calling you to donate to our mission trip? Probably. We still need a lot of money, and He likes to provide for His children. Especially the disabled orphans in 3rd world countries. Click HERE to check out our fundraising page. Tell your friends!!!! Please!!!

Sorry. Habit. Can’t help it.

Moving on.

I’m sure there was a lot of other fun, random experiences that I should probably tell you about. I can’t think of them right now though. For now, all I can think about is Matthew.

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Oh.

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I couldn’t resist. Sorry to all of the maternal figures in my life who just read that and got really excited. Remain calm. I am not trying to give you some kind of update on my relationship status. I’m still head over heels for Jesus and totally at peace with being alone with Him until He decides to share me with the man of His choosing. Me and my heart are at the foot of the Cross with Him. Whenever Mr. Man shows up, he’ll meet me here. No worries. (:

Matthew. As in the Gospel writer. Matthew 14:25-33 to be exact. Actually, I guess I’m thinking more about Peter than Matthew.

If you know anything about my life, you probably know that I don’t usually do things the normal way. That goes for my spiritual life too. For the longest time, my relationship was a series of highs and lows. High when I would run to Him and let Him have all of me. Crazy, wild, awesome experiences that floored people around me and left me reeling in a Jesus-high that would rival the most caffeinated/sugared teenage conference attendee. Lows when I would take my eyes off of Him and focus on myself. My situation. My pain. My brokenness. My sin. You name it. When I stopped looking at Him, I hit rock bottom hard and fast.

It’s been awhile since I’ve been in either category.

I love the story of Peter walking on the waves. So often, I feel like that’s exactly where I am. In that boat.

“Jesus, just tell me what you want. Call me, and I will walk on the waves. I’ll do anything. Please, just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

Then He tells me. He calls me. He moves me. All of a sudden, I’m walking on water. Exhilarating doesn’t cover it. The feeling of doing what you were created to do… it’s awesome. He is my whole world. He’s the only thing I want, the only thing I need. It’s just Him and me, getting closer and closer.

Then, somehow, I forget. I get distracted. I get impatient. I want what I want, and I want it now. I don’t want to be still. I don’t want to wait. I look away. Wind. Waves. Thunder. Lightening. Sorrow. Fear. I’m sinking. Drowning.

“Lord, save me.”

It’s that simple. He reaches out, pulls me from the chaos of my will and into the peace of His. His will. His time. His love. Peace. All of a sudden, I remember. He is God and I am not. His ways are above my ways, and His thoughts are above my thoughts. He knows me better than I do, and as I draw near to Him, He satisfies the desires of my heart.

I’ve spent a lot of time walking on water. I’ve also spent a lot of time sinking in the waves. A lot of this semester was about the moment that comes after. That moment where my hand is in His and He is saving me. I tried to get to Him, but in the end, He came to me. Now I’m looking at Him again, and once again, He is the only thing I want or need, the only thing I see. I see Him, and everything I am is undone.

“And in the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, "It is a ghost!" And they cried out for fear. But immediately he spoke to them, saying, "Take heart, it is I; have no fear." And Peter answered him, "Lord, if it is you, bid me come to you on the water." He said, "Come." So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus; but when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, "Lord, save me." Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, "O man of little faith, why did you doubt?"And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’”

I need to learn how to speak Spanish.

It’s been awhile. I’d apologize, but I’m not actually sorry for neglecting the blog. My life has been consumed with many wonderful things that, even now, I’m ignoring on behalf of you, my beloved creepers. That’s right. Feel the love.

I’m procrastinating the reading of three different books of the Bible, an entire book, five chapters in three different textbooks, several hundred paragraphs of the Catechism, the writing of a reflection paper, two journal reflections, and nineteen chapter summaries, the re-copying of notes, and the memorization of the Old Testament canonical order, all to tell you that I’m doing wonderfully.

School has been insane. Completely. My life is a beautiful hodgepodge of prayer, classes, homework, household, and health. It would probably be pretty easy to look at the above To Do List and be stressed out, but honestly, I’m getting used to it. You should have seen last weekend’s list. I’m learning and growing and it’s grand. I’m busy, but not stressed.
Let’s have some life-details, shall we?

Classes
I’m positively in love with two of them. Scriptural Foundations of Catechetics (totally as nerdy-Catholic as it sounds) and Principles of Biblical Studies. The first is about applying Sacred Scripture to catechesis (teaching the faith), and therefore is intensely focused on reading, memorizing, and falling in love with the Word of God. After all, you can’t give what you don’t have. In the second class we’re diving deep into the Old Testament – studying it intensely at a fast pace. It’s incredible. Don’t worry, I’m not surprised at its quality in the slightest. I mean seriously, the Guy who wrote the textbook is Awesome.
My two other classes are taking a little longer to pick up speed. Theology of Christ has been beautiful (Sirilla is an amazing professor) but we’re still working our way up to the really mind-blowing stuff.
Content and Curriculum (another Catechetics class) is being taught by a new professor. She is fresh out of fifteen years of teaching high school classes, and it still shows a bit. You can tell she’s used to having to work really hard to get her students to want to know what she’s teaching. Hopefully she’ll realize that she doesn’t have to do all the build up – she can just tell us the Truths she’s trying to share with us and we’ll go from there.
Finally there is my Personality class. It’s for my psychology minor, and it exists because God wants to teach me about patience, humility, and finding joy in suffering.

Household
I love it. My sisters call me on and call me out on a daily basis. God was kind enough to give me a kick-butt accountability partner who tells it like it is and is cool with me being just as blunt, which is good because I would have been regardless of whether or not she wanted it. ;)

***TOP SECRET THINGS TO BE FILLED IN LATER***

Prayer
My prayer life has been really consistent lately. I can’t even describe how grateful I am that God has chosen to give me four years in a place that is so safeguarded from society’s nonsense. I am completely aware of how blessed I am that the cool thing to do around here is to talk to Jesus and let Him talk to you. Don’t get me wrong. There are still plenty of things that could easily (and too often do) distract me, but hopefully building self-discipline here when the distractions and temptations are smaller will profit greatly when they get bigger. That’s the plan anyways. I love Him. He loves me. It’s good.

Other
1. Injury
Ok. So. I’m limping again. You’re probably (like EVERYONE who sees me) shaking your head and wondering why on earth I can’t just stay in one piece like normal people. The answer is that I don’t know. I’m just not good at it.
Good News: It’s not my ankles!
Bad News: It’s my knee(s).
Long story short: There is a kickboxing class on campus that is crazy fun. Mel convinced me to try it with her, and it was great. You may laugh at me. When I told Hannah, she laughed until I hung up on her and then laughed some more after she called me back. She’s a goob. Anyways. It’s fun, and as soon as my stupid knee works again I’m gonna do it some more. What is wrong with the knee? Well, I stepped wrong or kicked wrong or something on Monday. It hurt. I was like “It’s not that bad. I’ll just finish this class.” unfortunately that was only ten minutes in, and fifty minutes later I was limping. No, I haven’t been to the doctor. They’d just tell me to do the whole Rest Ice Compression Elevation thing, which I’ve been doing anyways. I’m fine. I’ll keep you updated.

2. Born of the Spirit
I’m on core team for the Born of the Spirit Retreat. The retreat is Oct. 21-23. I’ll tell you more about it then. For now: It’s cool. Please pray for us and those who go on the retreat!

3. I need to learn how to speak Spanish.
This needs to happen for several reasons. First, because it’s on my bucket list. Secondly, because I’m going to Nicaragua. Dec 31 – Jan 7. I decided while I was eating gross caf food. The conversation went something like this.
Marriana: I can’t eat anymore of this. I don’t know what animal it came from. I’m going to go to Nicaragua. God just said so. Do you want pizza?
People eating dinner with Marriana: … wtheck?

Basically: God told me to. So I’m going. More to come later.

Newness!

Woo!!! Party!!!! Excitement!!!! CELEBRATION!!!!!

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The blog has a new title.

 

 

My blog used to be called “When An Angel Goes Abroad”. You can read about why here. It’s not really an appropriate title for my life’s musings anymore, because though I’m still an Angel, I’m no longer abroad. At least for the time being.

The new title is “Learning to Love”. It’s a topic that has been on my heart lately. For quite some time now, my prayer has been that God will speak to my heart and teach me how to love. I want His eyes to see Him, the people around me, and even myself. I need Him to teach me. So… yep.

Have a great day.

Death

One of the billions of things I love about being Catholic is the close relationship that we have with the Christians who have gone before us. We call them saints. I have no idea what the exact number is, but I can tell you for sure, we have a LOT of them. They are people who we look up to  - those who have lived in the same sin-filled world that we do now, but, unlike most of us, have chosen to love radically. Sinners who never stopped fighting their sins. Their stories are incredible. I have yet to encounter a saint who I couldn’t automatically add to the list of people that I desperately want to be like.

Fun Catholic Fact of the Day:
We don’t pray to saints. We ask them to pray for us, just like we ask each other to intercede here on earth. Ask me about it sometime. (:

Anyways. Why am I rambling about all of this?

Because I want to be holy. Basically. I want to be set apart – pure and righteous in the eyes of my God and in the eyes of the world for His sake. The saints are people who did what they had to do to be holy, and I look to them (along with the Sacred Scriptures and Traditions of the Church) to learn how to walk where they walked in faith.

I was thinking about martyrs. There have been countless Christian martyrs. St. Maria Goretti – who was stabbed to death by a man who would have stolen her innocence had she not fought him so strongly. St. Isaac Jogues – a Catholic priest who evangelized Native American tribes in the 1600’s. He was captured and tortured (including his fingers being bitten off), escaped, and went back to continue sharing the light of Christ. His witness as he was killed converted many. St. Maximilian Kolbe – who voluntarily took the place of a man who was condemned to starve to death in Auschwitz. St. Cecilia – who sang praises to our God as her murderers attempted three times to cut off her head. She lived, in agony, for three days, and when her incorruptible body was found long after her death, they saw that on one hand she had three fingers outstretched and on the other hand just one finger, denoting her belief in the trinity. So many more – all my heroes.

I would like to think I would give my life for my faith, if put to the test.

Then again, we probably all would.

The truth is that chances are pretty slim that I will ever get the opportunity to find out.

Good news though. That doesn’t mean I don’t get to die for what I believe. See, there are a million little choices that I get to make every day. Not just in action, but also in my heart. I believe that you aren’t truly living unless you’re dying – to yourself – every day. Dying to my desires – those basic human desires that would have me taking the easy road, the prideful road, the sinful road, in a million ways. Putting others first. Trusting God. Giving Him everything. To give means to let go. You can’t give something away if your hand is still holding it. If we want to be holy – to truly live for God – we have to be willing to sacrifice. If you show me a Christian who thinks he can love God without sacrifice, I’ll show you a Christian who has totally missed the point. Love is sacrifice. Check out the Cross.

Now, it’s all well and good for me to contemplate this and type it up on my fancy-schmancy blog. It would be fabulous if that meant I was practicing all of it. Unfortunately, just because I get it doesn’t quite mean I live it. I’m a sin addict just like every other human being out there. It just means that I’m really aware that, if I want to truly be His, I’ve got to pray when I don’t feel like praying, love when I don’t feel like loving, and serve when I don’t feel like serving. If I’m really, really lucky, no one will notice any of it so my pride will not take over the universe.  On that note, I didn’t type this up so everyone could tell me how insightful I am. Honestly, considering that sacrifice has been the heartbeat of my Church for like, 2011 years already, it’s not like it’s anything new. I’m just voicing what’s been on my mind today.

Jesus, teach me to die so that I will know how to live.
Jesus, teach me to love.

Fly Away Home

I’m on the plane from Dublin to Chicago. I’ll be spending about ten hours in the air today. I’m going home.

It is such a beautiful thing that when God made us, He gave us the ability to leave parts of ourselves behind us when we leave a place. I’ve left pieces of my heart all over Europe, and now Ireland has joined the ranks. It’s not really about the place. It’s pretty, sure. That’s not enough for me to fall in love though.

My heart was stolen by a thirteen year old girl who listens to screamo and dyes her hair two new neon colors every week. A really skinny ginger kid who is in desperate need of a haircut. He plays bass and loves a kitten named Blaze. A quiet boy who lives in a bright yellow house. He has brown eyes and a smile that would melt a glacier. He claps whenever someone does something funny, weird, or just plain dumb. Everyone else always claps with him. He’s just that kind of kid. A young woman who is going to be a kickin mom someday. She wears bright colors, classy skirts, and comfy black shoes. Her smiles are like sunshine. She’s a pro at hiding when she’s hurting, and she always puts everyone else before herself. This one guy who has only been playing guitar for two years, but sounds like he’s been at it for ten. He was born to be a leader. He’s a goof, but every now and then he’ll blow you away – showing courage that few his age have. The first to try something new. The first to pray out loud in front of everyone else. He’s gonna change this world. They all are. There are more. So many more. A boy who wears all black and is obsessed with Paramore. He doesn’t know who he is yet, but that’s ok. Not many of us do. A young girl with freckles who loves the feeling of going outside at 2am in her bare feet and looking at the stars. She says there is something special about feeling the cold wind in your face and listening to the quiet. I think she’s starting to realize that feeling is really our God singing her love songs. A farm girl who can go a little crazy with her friends, but listens more than she talks. She asks the hard questions like why do bad things happen to good people. A girl who wears a little too much make up. She’s good at hiding things – like how much she’s hurting over the problems at home. She’s learning how to let God be her strength. Loud kids. Quiet kids. Crazy, dramatic, brilliant, hilarious, kind, incredible Irish teenagers who stole my heart.

Stretching myself. Planning until 2am. Trusting. Walking in the rain. Being patient – meeting them where they are. Eating. Forgetting to eat. Drinking tea. Speaking. Skits. Games. Videos. More tea. Parent meetings. Prayer. Sitting on the shopping center floor and counting tshirts and pennies. Getting up early. Going to bed late. Drinking more tea. Cleaning up after forty-three kids. Phone calls. Teaching them how to pray. A thousand to do lists. Teaching them it’s ok to cry. Bus rides. More tea. Sharing music with them. Being speechless when they go above and beyond. Never forgetting the looks on their faces when they realized God is the answer to every question they didn’t know they were asking. Laughing. Inside jokes. Walking into Mass and seeing two pews full of teens who couldn’t tell me the last time they’d been – right up front in a church filled with people who had almost given up on them. My heart exploding with pride in the courage they showed. Hugging them goodbye and never wanting to let go. Wiping tears off their faces and promising to stay in touch. Sobbing with Hannah for two hours after we’d officially left. I will never forget.

Youth ministry. It’s what I was made for. I am not worthy to do what I love to do. Plain and simple. Looking back, I am so, so grateful that God did what He did with the little bit that I gave Him. In some ways, I could have given Him more. I’m not cutting myself down, just calling myself out. The thing about this job is that you can’t do it with half of you or 99% of you. You do it with all of you. Passion. Love. Sacrifice. Giving them so much of yourself that if they hurt, you hurt. Giving God all of yourself so that when they hurt, and you hurt for them, He heals. Loving without out limits. Giving everything. Living like you have something worth dying for. Showing them that they do too. I love every second of it. I don’t know how it is possible that God could see fit to use me, in all of my failures and brokenness, to do so much. I just know He does. Lives changed this summer – mine among them. He’s always working. Always shaping us into more of who we are meant to be. It’s incredible. I am blessed, and I am grateful.

Now I’m on the way home. In a few hours, I’ll be hugging baby brothers and sisters and parents. It’s like canon-balling into love. I can’t wait. I get a whole month with my families, and then back to school. I’m really excited to see what God has in store next. I’m planning on working my butt off in classes and my spiritual life. Not that I didn’t work hard before – I have. I’m just SO excited to give more. The more I learn and the more I love, the more I’m going to be a ready instrument for Him to use for the next group of kids. That’s pretty darn cool.

God save Ireland. God bless America. Long live the pope. :-D

Strawberries & Cream and Frank Sinatra

I know. I’m the worst blogger ever. I’m not making apologies anymore. I’ve just accepted my weaknesses and you all have to put up with it. (:

Ok. So. Tomorrow is the halfway mark. Three weeks gone, three weeks to go. If you haven’t seen the video that Hannah Voss tagged me in on facebook, go watch it. It’s a good time, and it’ll let you know what we’ve been up to and what we’ve got planned. In the mean time, I’ll take this opportunity to tell you about today.

It was our first real day off since we got here. Mary Macken (the fabulous woman we’re staying with) packed us up in the car and we headed across the country. Literally. Ireland is kinda small compared to the US. Mary brought lunch and we brought a couple CDs with some fancy-schmancy playlists. We’ve spent the day walking along the Cliffs of Moher (if you’ve EVER seen a seaside picture of Ireland, you’ve probably seen them) and along the beach in Salthill, which is in Galway. We took tons of super touristy pictures, chilled out, laughed, and ate food. One of the most popular desserts at Mary’s house seems to be strawberries & cream, which is absolutely fine by me. No sugar! Happy day. So, we ate fresh picked strawberries and sipped tea by the sea (in the car by the sea, but by the sea nonetheless) and now we’re driving home listening to Frank Sinatra, whose music I’ve fallen in love with on a new level. It’s been a beautiful, restful, thoroughly Irish day. Much needed.

The video will let you know the majority of what we’ve been up to, but I’ll use this post to add some personal details.

First of all, I love what we’re doing. I honestly don’t have words to describe how much I was just straight up created for this. Evangelization is the most exhilarating, satisfying, and all around wonderful thing I’ve ever been blessed enough to experience. So far things have been mostly logistical and preparational, but it won’t be too much longer before we’re up to our ears in kids and their hopes and dreams and fears and faith. I can’t wait. Right now, I’m working with a relatively small community and primarily targeting teenagers. It’s awesome, but at the same time I can’t help feel like God is only beginning to get me ready for something much bigger. I have absolutely no idea what that might be, but when He tells me I’ll let you know.

These have been a crazy three weeks. We’ve been working and planning every single day without actually seeing much fruit. That’s not because things are going poorly, but because we’re laying a foundation for what is to come. The fruit will show later, and most of it will have to be harvested by whoever comes after us. Because we aren’t seeing the results right in front of our faces, it has been a challenge to keep pressing in with the same enthusiasm. However, we are leaning heavily on God and trusting Him to bless our efforts to do His will. We’re walking blindly – trusting Him. As always, He has been faithful. Every obstacle that has come up has been overcome. Never once has He failed to give us more than what we needed.

In a lot of ways, I am really grateful that the “fruits” of our work here have been subtle. God has been quietly calling me to allow Him to be my complete fulfillment. Not only has He been consistently stealing more and more of my heart, but He has set Himself up as my sole means of gratification. Any part of me that used to (stupidly) look for happiness to come from my own accomplishments (as if they were ever mine at all…) hasn’t been allowed to be satisfied outside of His quiet, beautiful work on my heart. I’m becoming more of myself – the way He wants me to be. I like it (:

On a slightly more superficial level, I’ve also been working on a couple non-work related projects. The first is Mary’s yard. It’s a beast.  Don’t think “yard”. Think “multiple fields with grass up to your knees composed of approx. 50% stinging nettle”. I want to get as much done for her as I can while I’m here, which won’t be as much as I’d like, but alas, such is life. There will be before and after pictures eventually.
The other project is top secret. See, it’s actually not a big deal. No. Seriously. It’s barely even worth mentioning. However, I am working on it, and it is a surprise, though it’s a small and essentially insignificant one. I’m only even bringing it up because, though I’m a fantastic secret-keeper, I’m horrible at my own surprises because I get too excited. But you shouldn’t get excited. Trust me. It’s not worth being excited about, I’m just lame-sauce.
I know that is just cruel and unusual for all of you. Sorry.

I love you.

Tis Goin Ta Be A Grand Adventure

Well, as I’m sure all of you know, I’m in Ireland right now. Hannah Voss, one of my household sisters and dearest friends from Franciscan, and I have been blessed enough to be offered positions “interning” with a Catholic Parish in Delvin, a tiny town northeast of Dublin. We are very quickly realizing that “interning” is secretly code for “how about you set up an entire youth ministry program by yourselves”, but I’ll get to that some other time. For now, I’m just going to go over everything that happened in the process of me getting here.
The plan for Travel Day was to wake up, go to Mass with my mom, then Church of the King with the Duncan fam, and then get in the car and head to the airport. Obviously, that means packing had to be done the night before. To keep with tradition I pulled an all-nighter and started putting things in the bag at about 3am. Before that, I watched The Hulk with Mama and the (big) little brothers, sorted all my worldly possessions for the sake of consolidating/purging, and did laundry. Woohoo. (:
Fun fact: I broke a string on my guitar when I first got back from Austria, so I bought replacements while I was in Steubie. Unfortunately, I forgot them in Hannah Voss’ room. She was able to bring them with her to Ireland, but until then, I was left with a significant lack of strings on my guitar. I decided to make use of this by shoving three pairs of shoes inside of it. Feminine genius? I think yes.
Actually, it just occurred to me that I have to figure out how to get the shoes home now that the strings are back on… hmm. Interesting.
Anyways, so, things went as planned. By the grace of God I managed to get everything together on time. I got to go to Mass, which was beautiful, and then COTK, and then Jordan (he’s the “little” brother who is about six inches taller than me and on his way to college (!!!!!!) ) drove me to the airport. He did a fabulous job getting there. No wrong turns, good timing, etc. Everything went smoothly. It wasn’t until I’d been in the airport for about half an hour that I got a text from him saying he’d gone the wrong way on the way home. Poor love. Not quite sure how he did it, but I’m almost glad he did. It proves we’re related ; )
When I got into the airport I was only about ten feet away from the line I was supposed to be in. That was good considering all the nonsense I was hauling. Checked bag, guitar, backpack, and a carry-on that was filled with the important things. You know. Bible. Breviary (fancy schmancy Catholic book with daily scriptural devotions), Journal. Laptop, Passport, money, etc. You get the idea. Lots of books and heavy business. The general idea was that my little “personal item” was probably well over its allotted weight and that none of my baggage was fun to move around. That’s why, as I got towards the front of the line on my way to the check-in, I said a little prayer that Jesus would help me get to a counter super near the line so I wouldn’t have to awkwardly carry/kick/drag everything too far. He didn’t do that for me, but He did have an airport employee randomly walk up, carry my biggest bag, and walk me through the international check in process step by step, including fixing some problems with my return flight. He is so good to me (:
I got through security no problem. It’s almost magical how a little common courtesy will help you get through things like that. While I was checking in there was a man at another counter who was throwing a massive fit. Something wasn’t working out for him and he was screaming and cussing and getting in the poor lady’s face. He called her some seriously nasty names. It took a lot for me to not say something, but I was good. Honestly, I pity the man who was raving more than the poor woman he was shouting at. I can’t imagine how unhappy you have to be with yourself in order to treat other people that way. He definitely wasn’t making friends at the check-in counter. There was actually a priest waiting next to him. I’ve never seen a death glare like the one that priest gave that man. I think he wanted to punch him in the face.
It’s probably also worth mentioning that, in addition to my magical ability to be polite, I was wearing a nice gypsy skirt and I smiled a lot. Courtesy, confidence, and femininity. It’s a good combo for popularity and happy traveling.
After a short wait I got on the plane. My seat buddy wasn’t big on chatting, but since I’d been awake for about 40 hours at that point, I was more than happy to doze. I think I got about 45 minutes of sleep, and then it was time to get off again. Dear Marriana, Welcome to Chicago.
Ok. Chicago Airport is absolutely pancake-flippin crazy. Everyone says Atlanta is bad, but I’ve been to Atlanta two or three times now, and Chicago is way worse. It’s way less organized. I got lost by myself about five times before I was even able to find someone to ask for help and it was only then that I was able to find out that I was supposed to get to Terminal 5, which is basically an entirely other airport specifically for international flights. Meh. Anyways. One train-y thing-y ride later I was in the right place. I checked in with Aer Lingus (Note the SUPER IRISH name : ) and then had a tiny bit of time to kill. Right about here I remembered that I forgot to eat all day, so I grabbed a smoothie. Strawberry Raspberry, no sugar added (: I love it when they do that and I can actually eat the things I buy.
I went though international security, where they decided they needed to make sure my travel mug wasn’t secretly filled with anthrax. That only took about five minutes. Then I was free to find Hannah Voss. We camped out for a little bit, and before long it was time to board. We weren’t seated next to each other, but it ended up working out. I was supposed to be in the middle of a whole group of people traveling together, but I switched so that they could have another one of their friends with them. I ended up sitting next to a couple of other college students. One was on the way home to Dublin after a year of studying in California. He was a Junior physics major with a fondness for Fig Newtons and milk. My other amiga was a girl who was spending her summer bopping around Europe for kicksies. She was born in Poland but grew up in Chicago. They were both Catholic (:
The flight itself wasn’t that bad, only about six or seven hours. We had chicken and rice for dinner. There was cheesecake too, but I gave it to my seat buddy. I dozed a little bit, but my seat was in a wonderfully high-traffic area – near the bathroom, so it wasn’t exactly peaceful. That’s alright. Eventually morning showed up. I had a croissant for breakfast, and we landed soon after that. I grabbed the guitar, met with Hannah, and off we went. Customs went fine. I got a nifty stamp, which, as we all know, is the whole point of even having a passport. We grabbed our bags and stopped by the bathroom. The only reason I’m sharing that fun fact with you is because it was in the bathroom, when I saw the weird European toilets, that everything actually hit me. I’m in Europe again! Woot woot! (:
We met up with Maria, who was waiting for us. We were super excited because she was wearing a sweatshirt representing the school she works out. Regina Angelorum Secondary School. Oh yeah. (: Then we went outside to a land of European license plates and cars in which the driver is on the right-hand side. Austria and the other countries I visited during my semester abroad all had driving and such on the same side as us, so it was a new experience.
As expected, the Irish countryside is absolutely lovely. The sun was shining when we arrived, and though it’s consistently much cooler and windier than it is in the states, we’ve been pretty blessed thusfar with only a tad bit of rain. On the way to Delvin we stopped in a hotel for breakfast. Hotels around here seem to have dining set ups much like basic restaurants in the US. It was here that we were able to first experience Irish tea. Tea in Ireland is practically a religion. Everyone drinks it, all day, every day, and you never refuse it when it’s offered. I love this place.
After that Maria dropped us off at Mary Mackin’s house. Mary is a single woman in her 60’s who doesn’t “stand by ceremony” and who is a bit more talkative after a good gin and tonic. She’s a hoot. We’re going to be staying with her for the first week, and possibly longer.
Mary was actually at work when we arrived, so we had free reign of the house. We couldn’t figure out how to turn the water on, so we crashed without taking showers. It was about eleven in the morning, Irish time. Seven hours later Mary showed up, introduced herself, and cooked us stirfry. Not exactly the most traditional Irish meal, but fabulous nonetheless. We had fresh strawberries and homemade Irish whipped cream (no sugar! :) for dessert. Then we had some tea, and Fr. Seamus (Shame-us) showed up and introduced himself. He’s the one who’s been coordinating this whole thing. He’s our boss. He’s a really sweet, if somewhat shy, older man with one brown eye and one blue eye. We discussed a few logistical details for the next few days before he left us to rest and attempt to recover from jetlag. I took this opportunity to put the strings on my guitar, which was a bit more complex than it probably should have been, but they sure sound pretty. Then we turned in for some sleep. Whew.
I’m sorry I don’t really have pictures yet. I’ll steal some from Hannah soon and get them up. They’ll help break up my umpteen paragraphs of ridiculous details. I love and miss you all! Please pray for us!

Prague: One Point Five

After getting warm and nourished in Subway, we hiked our way up to the Prague Castle. By “hike” I actually mean “lots and and lots and lots of steps”. Once we got up there though, the view was fabulous.

Castle Dealio:

Inside the Castle was St. Vitus Cathedral. It was gorgeous, but a total tourist trap. It was pretty, but made me sad. I think that was kind of the theme of Prague, unfortunately.

Good news though! When we came outside, there was a rainbow. (:
Also, on the way back down, we stopped at a little hole-in-the-wall bakery (literally) and got something warm to drink. Mis amigos got these cinnamon/sugar bread things called Trdelniks. They smelled lovely, and whatever caffeinated beverage I drank made me happy. We continued on our journey.

It was right about here in our trip that we began to turn all the weird/awkward things about Prague into jokes. For example, Prague seemed to be really into nudity. Not in a classy artistic way, but in an unfortunately trashy way. I (with my usual tactful bluntness) pointed out how it was driving me crazy, to which Storm responded “Why is everything naked?!??! It’s a question that just needs to be asked, like ‘Why is all the rum gone???’” Also, there was this ridiculous sign everywhere. It makes absolutely zero sense.

Eventually we wound up at the Lennon Wall. It’s a giant wall that is known for it’s graffiti. It started with Lennon lyrics and now is just a place for people to express their artistic (or not so artistic) selves. I made my mark on behalf of FUS and Regina Angelorum. (:

We decided to go back to Our Lady Victorious to attend the Mass (in Spanish) that they were celebrating that night. We had some time to kill, so we stopped in a park. On the way there, I ran into a pole. No lie. I right into it. Good job Marriana. Very nice. Storm was kind enough to take note of the moment for me:

The funniest thing that happened at the park was the slide. Storm dubbed it the “Sterility Slide” because of its dangerous nature. Good times…
After Mass we found a little restaurant to eat dinner in. Somehow, it ended up being the unofficial Franciscan University students place to be. We filled the place up, without even planning on it.

We spent a good deal of time counting change and such for the bill, used the super-ghetto (European ghetto) bathrooms (For guys, this often means a hole in the ground. Ladies usually get a little bit of a better deal, but not by much.) and we headed out into the night to catch our bus. Prague is pretty by night, however sketchy it may be.

This last picture pretty much sums up my Prague experience. See, we were walking through the streets of this beautiful city, trying to take in the night-scene as we rushed towards the pick-up point, and all of a sudden I heard Lady Gaga. No me gusta. I think that’s the best way to understand Prague. It is a beautiful place and I’m sure it had a wonderful culture at one point. However, it made the mistake of picking up the worst parts of the other cultures (especially ours) in this world. I was bummed that I spent the money to go, but after spending all these hours (yes, it’s taken hours) going through the memories, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy most of my time there. A huge thanks goes out to Emily, Mary, and Storm. Thanks for making Sketch-ville a good time.

It’s 2:45am. I must be nuts.

The End.