It is funny sometimes how time really can change everything. When I first wrote “kissing kissing Goodbye.” the response on the blog was overwhelmingly positive. Honestly, I was surprised that so many people were so affirming of my (which was really our) choice not to kiss until marriage.
The other comments, the ones I was expecting (and some I was not) came largely in real life.
Really? That’s weird.
No kissing? Like at all? Not even on the cheek? I could *never* do that.
Who even does that? Crazy people, that’s who.
What are you, some religious fanatic? Amish?
Are you like one of those Duggar kids who can’t go on dates without a chaperone?
You do realize this is the 21st century, right?
Can’t you handle kissing each other? What is your problem? Continue reading
To all of those who came before:
Thank you. Thank you for having the courage to end things, even though it may have been hard. Thank you for recognizing that I wasn’t “The One,” even if I told you that idea was insane. Thank you for letting me go so that God could bring something even more amazing into my life. Thank you for having the strength to walk away, even if it meant some broken hearts and tears fell along the way.
Dare I say it, thank you for breaking my heart. Fulton Sheen said that sometimes the only way that the good Lord can get into our hearts is to break them. Thanks for breaking mine so that He could enter in more deeply. Thank you for shaking my life up, for opening me up to new possibilities. Chances are that when you left I had to readjust my understanding of what my life would look like. You got me out of my comfort zone and into God’s heart, the only place I ever really found rest until the right one came along. Continue reading
Most people don’t like Good Friday, not if they are being honest anyway. I, on the other hand, love Good Friday. It is the height of my liturgical year, the most important day on my radar. It is hard, of course, to re-live the death of Christ, but taking time to truly meditate upon and experience, in however small a way, what He went through is good. Good Friday challenges me to take stock of my life, my sin, and the ways that I continue to contribute to Christ being nailed to the cross. Good Friday is powerful, not only because of the sacrifice of Christ, but because of the ways it continues to challenge me, tug at my heart strings and invite me to be holier. Continue reading
It was a particularly
cold frigid, snowy Colorado morning when I got to Denver. Anthony and I were planning on meeting at 6:30am Mass, but I got there so early that I decided to stop by his place on the way to the church. Noticing that his car had been parked outside and was now covered in ice, I decided to scrape it off for him so he wouldn’t have to do it when he got to his car. He showed up to Mass, we had our little breakfast date after Mass, and he said nothing.
Not going to lie, I was a little peeved. I mean, I didn’t have my gloves and that ice was caked on. Maybe he just forgot, I told myself. But as I went on with my day, I found I was more and more annoyed. Why didn’t he notice? Did he forget? Did he not appreciate that his windows were clean? Did he not care?
When I went to my first confession at the ripe age of thirteen I really, really wanted to go behind the screen. I walked into the confessional and the priest told/asked me to sit in the chair and not behind the screen. Mortified and nervous beyond words, I sat in the chair and had my first confession. I never went to confession with that priest again, but I never wanted to go behind the screen again either.
In time I came to love going to confession without the screen. For me it meant that I had to look a priest (who is acting as the person of Christ in the confessional) in the eyes and tell them what I did. I had to come face to face with my sin before God. Personally that is a lot more humbling than going behind a screen. I’ve heard the case for and against screened confessions, but I’ve always preferred to go to confession face to face. The other thing I love about face to face confessions is you get to see the mercy in the priest’s face, and sometimes he’ll even put his hand on your head as he gives you absolution. Maybe it is just me, but I love seeing and feeling the love and mercy after bearing my sinful soul to the priest. Continue reading
You know that often quoted phrase of Mother Teresa’s about forgiving people anyway? About trying anyway? It starts off reminding us (as if we need a reminder) that people are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered. In my head the next part is always, “love them anyway.” Such a phrase or mantra makes sense when we think about the people we randomly come in contact with. The guy who cut you off on the freeway. The person who took the cab you clearly flagged down. The disgruntled customer service person. But what happens when the person you are called to love ‘anyway’ is the person you see every day, your parent, your sibling or your spouse? Continue reading
It was the end of a particularly odd day. I had been in a mood, some may call it ‘cranky’, for the majority of the day. At the end of it all, what I really longed for was a relaxing conversation with my husband-to-be. As it was, he too was exhausted and our conversation was short. It was a simple of case of what I desired and what he desired, once again, meeting head on and requiring some kind of sacrifice. The conversation was short and I took it hard. As I got ready for bed that night I thought to myself something particularly selfish.
I’m tired of sacrificing for him. What about what I want? What about me?
As the thoughts rolled around in my head, my memory was flooded with times when I was single, times when the sacrifices didn’t seem to come so often, times when life seemed easier. I selfishly reminisced about how I was my own person, free to be whatever I felt I needed to be, regardless of how another person felt, free to flee when problems came my way. Suddenly, my heart was overwhelmed with a kind of pathetic nostalgia for times I’ll never get back now that I’m getting married. It was in these moments of selfish pity that I realized I had a choice to make: Continue reading