the day in Between.

lance piercing JesusMost 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

the slightly bigger Picture.

the slightly bigger pictureIt 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?

Continue reading

behind the Screen.

light in the confessionalWhen 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

on loving Anyway.

love them anywayYou 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

sacrifice, marriage, and Satan.

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?

sacrifice marriage and satanAs 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

seven months, three Days.

I can say, with complete honesty, that April 27th, 2013 – November 30th, 2013 was a whirlwind. I refer to that time period as a whirlwind because in those seven months and three days I fell in love and the man I fell in love with asked me to be his wife.

Seven months, three days.

seven months three daysIn hindsight it seems simultaneously short and long. My mom always told me that I should date someone for at least a year before getting engaged, but the older I got (I know people will laugh at that!), the less I worried about how long I’d date someone before getting engaged. I don’t mean that in the “when you know, you know” cliché kind of way either. I mean that if it happened after six months or two years, I’d made my peace with it. At some point in my life I had to stop going into every single first date with the “this could be my last first date ever” mentality and open my mind up to whatever God wanted me to see. Continue reading

the need to Unplug.

I’m fairly certain that just about every blogger under the sun has written about unplugging and shutting off our electronic devices, but that sure ain’t stopping me from adding my two cents to the mix.

the need to unplugWhere I work there is an area of the building that parents are required to wait to pick up the children until after faith formation classes are over (it is a security/safe environment thing). Week after week I watch parents anxiously wait in the hallways until I open the doors and allow them to pick up their children. Week after week they stand in the hallways on their phones. They talk, they text, they play games, they fiddle on their phones. I get it, and I’m just as guilty as the next person. Why then, do we think it is okay to say that we feel so disconnected? The parish I work at is one of the largest in the state and yet I continually hear people say how they don’t know anyone at the parish. Maybe, just maybe, if we turned off our phones, or at the very least, kept them in our pockets, we might meet a new person. Or two. Or more. Continue reading