Are You Afraid of the Dark?

I am afraid of water I cannot see in; I am afraid of spiders (and the cockroach that climbed up the drain in our old apartment while I was taking a shower); I am afraid of falling from great heights; I am afraid of confrontation; I am afraid of never being enough.

Some of these things are reasonable; others, understandable. I've faced most of these fears, which lessens the brunt but does not take away the fear. These fears help make me more compassionate, more empathetic, more human.

Fear is the first noticeably personality trait in my seven week old daughter. She is afraid of the dark. In our bedroom in New Orleans, the city's street lamps are a couple feet from our windows, providing large dulled orange night lights. Back in Cincinnati, the guest room is so dark that I cannot see Grace's eyes staring back at me when I pick her up from her bassinet. She falls back asleep with the lights on, cries when she opens her eyes again and cannot see her little hands which reach upwards.

So, I bought her a Finding Nemo soother: lights, ocean wave music, and a friendly fish to say hello. It helped her, and being able to comfort her after I put her to bed that brought me comfort. I imagine God feels this way too -- in our moments of doubt, our moments of blindness, our moments of loneliness, He loves us and reaches out to us, gives us light.

When we belittle another's fear, we cannot help them. If a person feels unlovable, mocking their fear of being alone is only going to drive them more inward. If we push a self-conscious person to speak in front of the class, the anxiety is only going to rise. If we dismiss another's worries, we cannot see the motivating force of their actions.

Fear can, and should, be channeled. Fear is not an end point. Fear is an obstacle. There is always a way around it, always a way to overcome it (even if the fear persists). Fear is also a gift, if we so choose to accept it, in our journey - our fear of the Lord, our awe of his majesty. We see our limitations in fear, but we learn that they are opportunities, "for God did not give us a spirit of timidity but a spirit of power and love and self-control" (2 Timothy 1:7).

In my fears, I see myself. In my fears, I seek God. In my fears, I know God, who never departs from me; because even when the dark overwhelms, I know there is light.

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The Hard Thing

Story 101 prompt - Today's challenge: think back over this week. What do you feel is your hard thing? How do you feel about it? What is the purpose in you writing it? I believe when He asks us to write something difficult - to share that which we are most afraid of - it's because He has a reason and a purpose in those words. What are you fighting?

My hard thing is forgiveness, which could also be argued as my easy thing. When someone hurts my feelings, when someone is thoughtless in their interactions with me - I can usually push it aside, see their motivation, hear their apology (if there is one), and forgive them in my heart. It is forgotten!

But... to the person who violated our friendship, to the person who should be more supportive when I need it most, and to the two mentor figures who treated me like disposable talent, I have a hard time with my Grudge. 

My capital-G grudge is what keeps forgiveness at bay. They all haunt me, because the root of the blame is usually myself, and the mistakes I've made. If you had only... echoes down the hall. I try to sleep at night. I tell myself I won't shy away from reconciling myself to the Lord. To forgive others heals me, and I am afraid to keep asking for all the grace and forgiveness I really, truly need. Like a child who has tasted the water from the well, I keep asking: Please God. Please God, be with me. Help me Lord. Help me!

In the readings on Sunday, the theme was, God listens to those who persist. Abraham talked to God about lowering the numbers of good men, so as to save Sodom and Gomorrah (from 50 to 10, so I would say he was persistent). In the Gospel, Jesus said, "And I tell you, Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For every one who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened" (Luke 11:9-10).

I ask, I seek, I knock in my writing. My purpose in writing this is simply to vocalize my hurt. My purpose in writing anything is to vocalize words in a different order than the way they appear in my head - rushed, jumbled, excited. It's why I love the sacrament of Confession so much - it's more than silently making my peace with the Lord, more than crying and being repentant. It's physically saying the words out loud to the priest, who is acting in the person of Christ. It's saying I'm sorry to the person who loves me so much, he would suffer death again, just for me. It's knowing I am forgiven, when I struggle to forgive myself. I need that verbal affirmation from the only person who will never disappoint me.

I am fighting against how scared I am; how I have been hurt, over and over and over again. I've been betrayed. I've felt broken. I'm struggling to heal. And I wonder how truly, truly hurt Jesus was - emotionally - when Judas kissed him, killed him with the kindness.

Elora, the "Story101 midwife" as Shelby (fellow workshop-er) dubbed her, issued this additional challenge: Consider what Bradbury asks. When was the last time your real love or real hatred showed itself in your writing?

Ray Bradbury, in the Zen in the Art of Writing, wrote:

How long has it been since you wrote a story where your real love or your real hatred somehow got onto the paper? When was the last time you dared release a cherished prejudice so it slammed the page like a lightning bolt? What are the best things and the worst things in your life, and when are you going to to get around to whispering or shouting them?

I know I've written of love, real love: the way Christ has utterly transformed my heart; the way my family misses me and loves me; the way my husband cares for me and tells me so, the way he says, "I love us"; the way my baby moves and grooves; the way I'm learning to create a home, and not merely living to establish myself-- but real hatred? I shudder. Hate is so dark, so ugly. Perhaps, however, hate is what I think I feel towards those few people, and it's hard for me to admit that. I prefer "a very strong dislike." I don't hate the people, either - I hate their actions. I hate the way they don't see how they hurt me. I hate the way they live their lives without a second thought to how they hurt me. I hate that, even though I've tried to vocalize my hurt, I've been drowned into silence. And so I sit by the dark water and dip my toes in, afraid of the hate monsters that lurk beneath.

Blessed Mother Teresa said,

“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”

And so, yes, ultimately, that earthly, human, prideful hurt is unresolved. That's hard too. My life is not consumed by this hurt, though - only colored. I hope it will grow more pale in the days and years to come. To dwell is to feed the hate monsters. To be hateful is to lessen your own humanity, and to give less to one's fellow man than what is due to him or her: respect, love as an action, and forgiveness. Life is too short for anything else.

Bravery and Babes

I've never felt very brave. I was picked on a lot growing up because I was shy, and I stuttered, and wore glasses. And even after the stuttering was "fixed", I had a hard time not allowing my feelings to be swayed or hurt by other people. This feeling has lasted for many years, although I grew much better at masking it. In the meanwhile, I developed as a writer.

I joined the high school paper, Lion's Roar, my freshman year, as an outlet for writing. It was so fun seeing my name in print and contacting people, asking them what they thought, collecting the facts, writing up a story. I remember when I was named Sports Editor, one of two juniors who got a spot usually reserved for a senior. I was so proud of my little section, which I grew from three writers to six. Our space grew too - a whole page!

I had the glued-to-my-phone pre-req. down

I went to college and decided I didn't want to do journalism any more, so I didn't sign up for the college paper. But then, I got drawn into the independent paper, and spent my entire college career editing, writing, promoting and nurturing it. The tiny staff again grew under me, as I pulled in every resource I could, helping my writers and making them feel wanted as much as they were needed. I hurt a lot of feelings with my edits and editorials and "Hillsdalians of Genius" columns, but I didn't stroke any egos, and I told the truth, and people respected the paper. I even got along well with the journalism department, and got a scholarship to write book reviews for it my senior year.

It seemed the obvious answer, then, when asked what I was going to do after college: journalism.

Statehouse reporting was thrilling, but my work environment was not. I worked for a non-profit, who accepted a grant to fund two journalism positions. Though I was successful, my articles were well-received and picked up by outside outlets, it was a difficult work environment for me, and for personal-affecting-professionalism reasons, I quit.

That was one of the scariest things I had ever done, and it changed my whole life. I had accepted that job because it was great cub reporter experience and I was two hours from home. But now I had quit, and I was thinking about the other job I turned down in Washington, D.C. Was that the better choice?

I decided not to pursue journalism when I returned home, which my journalism mentor severely disagreed with; he told me not to waste my talent. Since then, it's been an interesting ride: family business, nannying, freelance, and plenty more "not-for-profit" writing -- as well as more family time, a new family, marriage, a new city, a baby, and a whole new set of challenges. And I'm happy, even though a part of me twinges to be back in journalism.

And what does this have to do with bravery? I still don't think of myself as particularly brave. I'm still introverted and still have glasses. But I've tasted "failure" - I know what it's like not to have what you want. I know what it's like to think you know what you want. I've known surprise, and I've known success. I know what it feels like to stand at the crossroads, and make another decision you know is going to change your life. Then another. Then another. I keep pressing forward. That's brave. That's living.

We all live with the consequences, whether our action by active or passive. And can you live with regrets? Sure. That's one way to live, but it's not a preferable way - because regret stains all future successes if you allow it. Or you can learn from your mistakes, which is my attitude: I have only one real regret, and that was letting people lead me to think I wasn't worth it: as a friend, as a girlfriend, as a student, as a writer. That is a lie, no matter who you are. We all have potential. We're all on a road to Damascus. None of us have completed the work we were put on this earth to do; most of us are still discerning what that work is, exactly. We should keep working, keep seeking, keep trying, keep loving, keep going.

In Jennifer Aist's book Babes in the Woods: Hiking, Camping & Boating with Babies and Young Children (my current read), she tells parents back off a bit and to let their kids explore (while still under supervision, of course!):

Watch an eight-month-old baby crawl around a coffee table. If left to explore it on his own, he'll run into it a few times, bonk his head on the bottom of it as he tries to crawl under it, and maybe even get a bit frustrated by it. Very quickly, this same baby will learn to duck going around that coffee table, slow down to avoid crashing into it, and generally learn how to be safe around it. The baby with "hover parents" never has an opportunity to learn by trial and error. So though this baby may never bonk his head on the coffee table at home, he also never develops the skills to avoid bonking his head on any other coffee table. Teach children the skills they need to safely negotiate any coffee table they may ever encounter, and you have given your children an incredible gift. You will have taught your child to be capable. 

Remember, frustration teaches children problem solving. Boredom teaches children creativity.

This is the same for adults as well. Be brave enough not to squander the chances in life to try, to "fail", to be who you want to be. You are exactly who you're supposed to be, and that is a true gift to the rest of us.

Do You Follow the Star?

I've been thinking more about New Year resolutions, and I wonder how successful they would be if we treated them less as things we can do to help or better ourselves, and more as something we can offer up to God.

I was struck by a question I encountered yesterday. In a woman's group I belong to, one of the members asked, "Does anyone ever feel like God hates you?"

This is a common question. Many people see bad and wonder how God can even exist. People feel as if they are always being good, but nothing ever comes of it. Today's readings (especially the Gospel), however, shows us how important free will is and the overwhelming power of good:

And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way. (Matthew 2:9-12)

The Magi seek the star, which leads them to the Christ child. As believers in signs, they trust a dream, which tells them not to return to Herod. They chose to leave by another route and not risk the child's life. What faith they had!

God never gives you anything you cannot handle. We go through sufferings in life just as Christ suffered for us, on the cross and through human temptations and lamentations. These sufferings, if we so choose, can be signs which lead us closer to Christ. The priest said in the homily today - think of what Mary, who carries so many things in her heart, must have felt when she received the gifts from the Magi: gold, given only to Kings; frankincense, given in homage to the Savior; and myrrh, used in burials, given as a reminder of the baby's humanity and eventual death.

When we consider that God sent his only Son to suffer death on a cross for the redemption of our sins, and when we ponder the very essence of love and how we are on this earth because we were created of Love and for love, we cannot believe or even think God hates anyone. Only the Devil plants seeds of hate. When you feel weak and wonder why God is not intervening, ask yourself: "Have I offered this up to God? Have I asked God for help? Do I want a specific outcome or am I open to God's plans for me?"

Or are you thinking like Herod, and would like to try to fix the end game out of fear? And what of grace?

The Magi followed a star. We follow a much less elusive guide, and still, at times, we can feel lost. And while we are not guaranteed a happy life, we can have a joyful one. On this Solemnity of the feast of the Epiphany, allow the words of the second reading seep into your heart:

Brothers and sisters: You have heard of the stewardship of God’s grace that was given to me for your benefit, namely, that the mystery was made known to me by revelation. It was not made known to people in other generations as it has now been revealed to his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit: that the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel. (Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6)

Have a blessed day! May you find the Christ child and be able to offer to him your most precious gift: that of self, and a devotion of your life in worthy adoration to our Lord.

"The Wise Men" by G.K. Chesterton

Step softly, under snow or rain,
 To find the place where men can pray;
The way is all so very plain
 That we may lose the way.

Oh, we have learnt to peer and pore
 On tortured puzzles from our youth,
We know all the labyrinthine lore,
 We are the three wise men of yore,
And we know all things but truth.

We have gone round and round the hill
 And lost the wood among the trees,
And learnt long names for every ill,
 And serve the made gods, naming still
The furies the Eumenides.

The gods of violence took the veil
 Of vision and philosophy,
The Serpent that brought all men bale,
 He bites his own accursed tail,
And calls himself Eternity.

Go humbly ... it has hailed and snowed...
 With voices low and lanterns lit;
So very simple is the road,
 That we may stray from it.

The world grows terrible and white,
 And blinding white the breaking day;
We walk bewildered in the light,
 For something is too large for sight,
And something much too plain to say.

The Child that was ere worlds begun
 (... We need but walk a little way,
We need but see a latch undone...)
The Child that played with moon and sun
Is playing with a little hay.

The house from which the heavens are fed,
 The old strange house that is our own,
Where trick of words are never said,
 And Mercy is as plain as bread,
And Honour is as hard as stone.

Go humbly, humble are the skies,
 And low and large and fierce the Star;
So very near the Manger lies
 That we may travel far.

Hark! Laughter like a lion wakes
 To roar to the resounding plain.
And the whole heaven shouts and shakes,
 For God Himself is born again,
And we are little children walking
 Through the snow and rain.



"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/ We Three Kings" sung by The Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan (one of my favorite versions and Christmas songs)

Stand By Your Man

Ladies, what would you say if

…your boyfriend told you he masturbates?
…your husband confessed his struggles with pornography?
…your brother is actively unchaste?

I have come to the understanding that many females are blissfully unaware of the sexual (and, thus, spiritual) struggles men encounter in daily life.

If you think your special male is different, you may be right, and you may be wrong. A quick glance over the culture and conversations with male friends, however, give me the confidence to say that majority of men folk would side with me.

Ladies, for many of you, the first response to any of the above may be disgust. We may take it personally. We might see all three as a defilement of the men we love. We might turn away, and reject the person.

But how does God see it? Man’s steady struggle for grace and holiness; a want and need for authentic love; an aching to be fulfilled.

Society’s consensus on all of the above is that these men are exhibiting a healthy sexuality and should not be deterred from their efforts. Catholicism responds that these men are participating in faux love, which may hinder their very ability to truly love in the future. Even if the right person comes along, she may not be their desired fantasy. This is a difficult pill to swallow for girls who grow up dreaming of a strong man to guide them, only to realize that he too is human, and in need of strength to guide him.

Holden needed guidance too!

I’m not going to rely on statistics for this piece, and I’m going to put the Church’s teachings aside for now. These struggles are real and are happening to real people, most likely very close to you. This is a lesson in how to love. This is not a theoretical argument for chastity, this a battle cry. It is uncharitable not to talk about it, letting the subjects fester, allowing people to suffer from lack of fellowship in a time of need.

Keep reading at Virtuous Pla.net>>>>>>>

I Got A Feeling

Last night, before I drove 10 minutes away to pick up my brother from a junior high dance with other kids from local Catholic grade schools, I got a bad feeling. A really bad feeling.

I do not normally have bad or good feeling on non-essential things; I never even felt this way when I took my long plane ride overseas. I do not usually care for gut reactions, either. But when I do, I usually know better than not to follow them. Once I got a bad feeling about driving a certain road, didn't follow it, and I got a ticket. Another time, I got a bad feeling, ignored it and I was parked on the highway for an hour and a half. This time, I got a bad feeling and saw myself get into a horrible car accident.

Heidi is a very snuggly dog.

Yes dear readers, this was definitely a more extreme feeling. I even saw myself die. Yeah, I'm not ready for that either, so I asked my Dad to drive, and I sat in the passenger seat, chatting with him and mentally saying Our Fathers. After I got home, I snuggled with Heidi. 

I should also add that I drove a lot yesterday, so it wasn't a fear of driving. I drove two hours from my boyfriend's parents' house to work (we went fishing two days ago!); then a half hour home from work; then 15-20 minutes to my grandparents' house to water their plants, then 15-20 minutes home; not to mention another 20 minute round trip to pick up my baby sister from her friend's house later that night. 

I even enjoy driving at night, so it's almost a shame I felt so ill at ease. In any case, as Elizabeth said, those moments certainly help you look at life differently. 

Here's another example of a lighter, much less extreme "bad" feeling I got last Halloween, a.k.a. my youngest brother's birthday:

I was making a cookie cake for my brother and broke the spoon. Bad omen? 

See? It broke. Sad.

And then our house was invaded by seventh graders!

There is no point to this story, or ending really, but I do have an interest in hearing if anyone else has gotten feelings like this before. I do not consider myself superstitious, but the feeling did rattle me. (I was fine driving to work this morning, by the way, and am feeling just dandy now, thank you!) What helps y'all feel better? Who do you like to talk to? How do you handle those kinds of feelings?

In other news, I am going to see Amos Lee and Lucinda Williams tonight with my friend Em!! Listen and love:

Amos - "Flowers"


Lucinda - "Buttercup":


I also just devoured a roll of lifesavers with my Dad and sister, minus the pineapple ones. Have a blessed weekend y'all!