For years I’ve been hearing sermons and talks on how Mary ‘keeping things in her heart’ meant that she was quietly and submissively just accepting things. But, she was keeping the revolution of Christ in her heart. That’s what she was keeping inside; that's what she had to keep in her heart, her soul, her body. So, not for one minute longer will I subscribe to the narrative that in order for Mary to be "quietly accepting" things, it meant that she was this passive, submissive woman who didn't show stress, exhaustion, anxiety, or confusion. Perhaps in the moment she silently took in what someone said, but when she got home, what happened? Or, when it was just her and God? .... How scared Mary must have been when she started feeling contractions (or some form of whatever it is she would have felt), and perhaps how she didn’t want to tell Joseph and worry him because she didn’t want it to be happening yet…because they had nowhere to go to have the baby. She remembers hearing Jesus’ first cries, holding Him and watching as the animals in the stable gathered around; His first worshipers. She remembers how badly she just wanted to sleep when shepherds arrived, who wanted to hold Him. She remembers being scared by these men who approached her in their fancy robes, but then how she relaxed when they knelt down on the dirty hay and looked at her Son in awe. Man after man came to visit her Son and each time Mary looked first at Jesus and then to Joseph. Sometimes she would catch Joseph’s eye, and sometimes she would just observe him. And it was in those moments that she realized just how revolutionary God is. That instead of using the body of a man, He chose the body of a woman. And instead of using a mighty and rich leader, He would use a poor and helpless baby. And she realized that this revolution that the prophets declared before her would take time. She asked herself: I mean, Mary, what were you expecting? That Herod would all of a sudden have a change of heart, welcome you into his palace and your Son would take His rightful throne? “Yes,” she admits to herself. “That is what I was hoping.” But as she “pondered what this meant in her heart” she started to realize that perhaps this was going to take much longer than she expected. This whole time she was pregnant, she thought that a king or a Pharisee would come along and take her Son to train Him; to lead Him. But in that moment she realized it was her. She was the one who was going to train Him, lead Him and guide Him. She handed Jesus to Joseph and stepped outside of the stable to get some air. She started crying and worrying about how she was going to raise the Son of God. Her breath quickened, she cupped her forehead and then she looked up. She hadn’t noticed how dark it was or how bright and clear the sky was. She tilted her head back and saw the star. And she started to realize just how big this all is and how it’s so much bigger than herself. She went back into the stable, hugged Joseph, took Jesus into her arms and kissed His head while tears rolled down her cheek. And that’s when it really hit her (because lest we forget, Mary was not all-knowing). And for the first time since Jesus was born she’s silent as she gazed in wonder at the Great I Am. The picture is of a statue I found tucked away at Falling Water, a Frank Lloyd Wright house in Pennsylvania.
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Can we allow ourselves to sit with someone in their pain? Let me start by say this: I grew up Catholic and am still a faithfully, practicing Catholic. I realize a fair amount of my readers will also be Catholic and/or Christian. I’m trying to listen and learn and I don’t want to be another white voice overpowering those who really need to be heard right now. Which is why I didn’t write anything for a while; because I didn’t want my voice to be drowning out anyone else’s. But, I realized that in not writing something, I might be giving the wrong idea about who I am. And, since I process by writing, I didn't feel like I could write about anything else without first writing about the plague that is racism in this country. As Fulton Sheen said: “The refusal to take sides on great moral issues is itself a decision. It is a silent acquiescence to evil.” If you’re reading this right now, and you haven’t read BIPOC (black, indigenous, people of color), Catholics thought's about Black Lives Matter, please don’t read mine. Read their’s: Gloria Purvis or, click for an interview she did about 'The Gift of Blackness to the Church' Alessandra Harris Linda B. or click here for her instagram: @camericanchick Karianna Frey or click here for her instagram: @kariannafrey Justina Kopp's instagram @justinakopp Olga Segura Vanesa Zuleta And a priest, Fr. Matthew Hawkins About a month ago, I spoke with a woman who I greatly respect (who is also the leader of the organization I’m with) and she said something that really struck me, “Jesus always stood with the oppressed.” He didn’t tell someone that he/she wasn't being oppressed. Jesus didn't get into arguments with him/her over how great God the Father was in freeing his Jewish people; He didn't negate the oppression someone was feeling. No, in fact, Jesus sat with the oppressed (John 4: 4-27, the woman at the well). He ate with them (Matthew 9:9-13, Jesus eats dinner at a tax collector’s house). He healed them (Luke 8:43-48, woman healed of her hemorrhaging). He defended them (John 8:3-11, the woman caught in adultery). Remember the woman who was caught in the act of adultery and dragged out to be stoned to death by the Jewish “leaders”? Much to the surprise of everyone involved, instead of dying a slow and painful death, the woman was defended by Jesus, redeemed, and according to some biblical scholars became the woman known as Mary Magdalene who was one of Jesus’ closest friends (not everyone agrees that Mary Magdalene was the woman caught in adultery, but she was definitely a woman who was one of Jesus’ closest friends, stayed by His side until His death, and was the first person that saw Him after His resurrection, so she was a phenomenal woman in any case). Black lives matter, right? So, why not focus more on the lives that are being oppressed, rather than at the anger and hurt that people are operating out of? I kind of get it - you don’t want your statues torn down, you don’t want your cities looted; your businesses burned. So, perhaps you’re feeling defensive. And, in a fight-or-flight mode, our bodies are hard-wired to ignore empathy and do what we need to do to survive. But, maybe, if we let our defenses down, we can see the racism that fueled the riots (or defilement of statues) in the first place. I can also kind of understand feeling unable to morally support the Black Lives Matter (BLM) Movement. Maybe you don’t agree with everything their leaders have said, or you don’t agree with everything they stand for. So, you don’t feel comfortable supporting a group that you can’t get behind 100%. Can I ask some questions, though? If you’ve voted before, did you agree with everything that candidate said and did? May I ask where you go shopping? Do you shop at Target, Walmart, Marshalls, Amazon? Wherever you shop, do you know where they receive all of their products and if everything is made and manufactured in an ethical way (with fair labor wages and conditions)? What about where you buy your food? Is it made and packaged in ways that respect the creation God has given us? Perhaps you’ve agreed with everything that the candidate you voted for has said and done. Perhaps you only shop fair trade, or know exactly how each product you buy is manufactured. Maybe you only buy food from local farmers and it doesn’t have any harmful packaging. And for that, I’ve gotta give props to you. Because, honestly, that’s my goal. I would love to only shop local or with small businesses. I would love to buy all of my food from local, small farmers; I would love to know the candidates that I vote for. But unfortunately, I live in America and that is a desire that seems as far from reality as reality TV. So, if the case is that we support individuals, companies and corporations who we don’t agree with 100%, then why can’t we look at the Black Lives Matter Movement, objectively, and say “Yes, I agree that black lives matter”? Full stop. Thing is, if there was another movement advocating for change and mobilizing thousands of millions of people to fight for justice and racial equity, perhaps I would be supporting that movement. But there’s not. Are there other organizations and people who are fighting against racism? Yes, absolutely. But, none on the scale of the Black Lives Matter Movement. Perhaps if “all lives matter” was an actual movement that actually supported all lives, and advocated for change, then I would be willing to support them. “All lives matter” started as a hashtag and as a rebellion against the Black Lives Matter Movement (yes, I realize that’s a Wikipedia link, but it’s the only website I could find that talked about the origins of the ‘all lives matter’ hashtag). But, there’s no actual “all lives matter” movement. I have yet to find anyone who started the “all lives matter” hashtag who is actually fighting for racial equity, or find anyone who has taken up that hashtag as a way to bring justice to the oppressed. If someone finds something different, please feel free to prove me wrong. But, honestly, if all I do here is stir up debate, then I am not making myself clear enough. Let’s cut the debating. Let’s cool it with the “Yes, but." Can we not see that there are people who are literally screaming out that they are being oppressed? Can we not at least acknowledge that? And if we can acknowledge that, then can we let ourselves do something about it? Many Catholics or Christians have an issue with the Black Lives Matter Movement. For those of you who are Christian and/or Catholic and are wondering if participating in such a movement is morally acceptable, that is a conclusion you have to come to on your own. But, I was brought hope and solace when I participated in a zoom call with young adults and a Catholic priest who is in the order of Franciscan Friars of the Renewal (a CFR priest in New York) who said: “Working with someone on a particular issue doesn’t mean you buy into their entire agenda.” Thank you, Fr. Herald. If your issue is with the Black Lives Matter movement, then fine. Can we at least acknowledge someone's pain, though? Can we sit with our black and brown and BIPOC brothers and sisters and be with them in their pain? If you have tangible solutions to the racism in this country, then I’m all ears. If you have other suggestions as to how to mobilize a population that has been oppressed for hundreds of years other than by taking to the streets and showing them that they’re not alone, then by all means, please do tell. If you have resources on how to help build bridges between races, then please share. But, if all you have to say (or post, or share) is echoing a narrative of “systematic racism isn’t real," or arguing until the cows come home about police brutality, or trying to prove how “un-Catholic” the BLM Movement is, then can I ask what you’re trying to accomplish? Other than making a point…? What point are you trying to make? If your point is: “Well, there’s just as many deaths by police against white people as there are against black, and here are the statistics to back me up.” (I doubt you’ll find this, but I digress) Or, perhaps your point is: “But we need cops, so I can’t get behind this” or, “I know a lot of good cops, so I can’t advocate that any of them could be abusing their power.” Or, maybe it’s: “The BLM Movement is actively against the Church, so I can’t support anything they do.” Perhaps you don’t understand what the big deal is, or why all this “racist” stuff is coming out now. Maybe you’re thinking - What’s wrong with Aunt Jemima anyway? (Again, if you’d like further reading from people much more knowledgeable than me, please stop reading my hoopla, and click on the names listed earlier) But, the point is - you’re trying to make a point. And there are real people with real stories, who are hurting. Who are oppressed by the systems in this country. Who are literally dying because they’re being racially profiled as “criminals” (you don’t have to take my word for that last one - check out the documentary 13th here, or on Netflix). If we’re really trying to stand with the oppressed, I don’t think there are many points to be made. We need to sit and listen to our brothers and sisters who are hurting, who are wounded, and who are suffering. Can we discuss things? Absolutely. Let’s ask open-ended questions and listen in order to understand where someone is coming from. Let’s learn. I mean, can you imagine if a Bishop or Cardinal (heyyy Dolan), sat down with a leader in the Black Lives Matter movement to simply listen and talk? If this happens, I will be singing Gods praises and be Hallelujah-ing all day long (and, there are actually some people (including a priest), who want to do this...so, THERE’S HOPE). Has arguing ever gotten anyone anywhere? Arguing ensues when I start trying to prove you wrong. When I start looking for articles, watching videos and reading posts that prove that I’m right and you’re wrong. When I ask you a question and immediately stop listening to your answer in order to think of the next point that I’m going to make. Sitting with someone in their oppression is hard. I think we all know that listening to someone express their pain can be excruciating to hear. And, when I share my lived experience with someone the last thing I want to hear is “That couldn’t have been what really happened,” or, “Well, you shouldn’t have done that.” This leads itself either to more pain, or an argument and we’re back in the saddle again. I read this somewhere so I can’t take credit for it (nor can I remember where I read it from), but the Black Lives Matter Movement is doing the racial equity work that the Catholic Church should have been doing a long time ago (I despise using the word ‘should,’ but I can’t come up with a better word). We all know of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., who, was a Christian reverend who obviously was a major leader of the Civil Rights Movement. Why aren't we, as Christians, the leaders of racial justice and equity today? I know there are articles and links to specific churches, or people (one being Dorothy Day), who advocate for racial justice (I was glad to find my former college chaplin Fr. Rutten speaking up, shout out to my UST homies). And, yes, absolutely, the people, the churches, the documents written by Church leaders, and the movements we have are good. But, the Catholic Church as a whole? We need to step up. And I say “we,” because the Church includes not only the priests and religious nuns, but you, me, and that one cute old woman who goes to Mass every day. Have we been fighting for racial equity? I can say from personal experience that I haven’t. We need more than letters and statements; we need to be on the front lines of this fight. Why? Because our BIPOC brothers and sisters who are being accused and profiled as “criminals” have been outcasted in society. They’re the modern day outcasts. And, if I want to model my life after Jesus, who sat, ate, healed and befriended the outcasts, then I need to start standing up; I need to be better. Church, we can do better. Earlier I mentioned that I would be singing God’s praises if I heard that a Bishop or Cardinal had dinner with a leader of the BLM Movement. But, what’s stopping me from inviting a leader over to my house for dinner (other than because of the ‘rona)? I can hold my leaders to a high standard (and we need to), but I can’t expect them to do something that I wouldn’t do myself. To those of you in pain: I'm sorry I haven't done better. I want to do, to be, to act, better. Church, let's get to work.
Am I turning into someone who forgets? Short answer; yes. Longer answer…I hope not. Currently, a lot of the Mass readings in the Catholic Church are centered around the plight of the Israelites. The people who were chosen by God, but who were enslaved by Egyptians. The other day, I started to imagine what it would have been like to be an Israelite child during the time of their Exodus; I imagined myself as a 10 year old child. I was this 10 year old who was born into slavery under the Egyptian Pharaoh. I imagined what it must have been like to see a man come along and show the power of God in various demonstrations. And, then, me, along with my family, are set free. I envisioned what it must have been like to cross the Red Sea, and see God’s almighty, powerful, miraculous hand at work again. Then, after all of this, we started to grumble about not having better food other than bread to eat. And I imagined what it was like to turn from God and to wander in the desert for 40 years. Then, I imagined being a 50 year old Israelite woman. What would it have been like to be one of the few people left alive who remembered how God brought us out of Egypt to bring us to the Promised Land? What would my faith be like? Would I be questioning if it was all real; would I wonder if I made it all up in my head? After all, I was only 10 years old. Could God have really made water turn into blood? Could God have really caused it to rain fire? Could He have really parted the sea, and allowed us to walk through it unharmed? And, then I thought about how I’m the fictitious 10 year old Israelite girl. That, I’m the one who was brought out of slavery, who saw the mighty power of God’s work in my life, crossed tumultuous waters and came out un-scathed. And, now I’m the one waiting on God, grumbling about how this isn’t the life I wanted. This isn’t what I expected when I chose to follow Him and watched Him break the bonds of slavery in my life. I thought things would be a little more glamorous…as I suspect the Israelites did too. I can’t really blame them, but also, what did they expect? A castle in the desert that magically appeared? Ultimately, the Israelites had a choice. And, so do I. They could have chosen to believe that God is who He said He is, especially after He worked all these signs and wonders IN FRONT OF THEIR OWN EYES. They could have chosen to believe Moses and Aaron, that there was a place God had for them and that He would provide what they needed. But, ultimately, when push came to shove, they didn’t have the faith that God had hoped they would have. So, they wandered in the desert (and yet, God still had this unfathomable mercy and provided for them). In my own way, I feel as though I’ve entered a desert. Do I have enough faith to believe in the God that I proclaim? Can I remember the miracles, the wonders, the power that He has shown in my life? Will I recognize Him as the good Father who has brought me out of slavery and will bring me into an even better future than I could have imagined? I can harp on the Israelites all I want, but I’m really not very different from them. Has God brought me out of slavery? Absolutely. He’s saved me from slavery to work, alcohol, relationships, resentment, anger, bitterness. Has God showed His might and power and worked miracles in my life? 100% yes Have I ever mentioned that 11 years ago I fell asleep behind the wheel? I woke up, didn't know what was happening; all I remember is my car was swerving so bad that I let go of the wheel and seconds later I ended up in a ditch. I walked away unscathed and the only damage was that my car had to be towed out of the ditch. A definite miracle if ever there was one, and an undeniable intervention by my Guardian Angel - giving credit where credit it due;) Plus, God has healed my body and soul, given me so many incredible friends it’s hard to stay in touch with them; a family who loves me. I could continue. And now, here I am. I can choose whether or not to grumble. I can choose whether or not to believe if God will provide. But, I can still be sad. I can still let myself feel my emotions and cry and mourn over the fact that I left 1ndia in less than 48 hours notice. That I can no longer walk down the street and go to daily mass where Mother Teresa lived. And, I can sit in my bathroom and let myself cry, when I’m overcome with the grief that comes with leaving a place I had just started to feel was a home. I can let myself feel the heartache when I think about not knowing the next time I will climb the stairs at the Motherhouse, or eat at my favorite Muslim-owned, Delhi Darbar Restaurant. I can allow myself to experience the pain of heartbreak when driving away from one of my closest friends; the only person who really knows and understands everything that happened in the past two months of my life. I can let misunderstanding and confusion cloud my mind when I think about that last drive to the airport, where my shared Uber consisted of a Spaniard who couldn’t find enough reasons to complain about 1ndia. Confusing, because only 3 weeks prior, all of those things were a thorn in my side too. But, slowly I started to see the beauty of the country I previously couldn’t wait to leave, and as I sat in that car I wasn’t excited to return. For the first time, I wasn’t excited to go to the airport and return to the land of comfort. I can left myself be confused when I don’t understand why I’m not glad to be home, sleep in my own bed or wear my favorite clothes. And, I can choose to believe that God still loves me. That He still is who He says He is. That He has proven Himself trustworthy, good, a Savior, powerful. Much like the Israelites who, each day could only take the bread they needed for that day, I too can wake up each day begging God for the strength to live the day He has given me, knowing that He will provide. The Lord led the Israelites into the wilderness; a place they had never been before. They thought it would be better for them to go back to the life of slavery that they knew, because of the unknown that the wilderness brought. What a parallel to my life, right? Maybe to yours as well. I would rather go back to the comfort of what I know than experience the pain, the unknown, the uncertainty of the wilderness. In Braving the Wilderness, Brene Brown talks about how the wilderness is a scary place to be. She describes the wilderness as a place out in the open, exposed to our fears and our shortcomings, a place where we don’t have control and we don’t know what is coming next. Sound familiar? She describes different ways that people handle the wilderness; some people shut down, others get anxious, angry, distant. But others, choose to press into the wild that is around them. They lean into the discomfort, get vulnerable with their family and friends, and choose joy over fear. Is not the wilderness that the Israelites entered similar to the one Brene describes? Sure, they entered a literal wilderness, but were their hearts not also in a wilderness? Is my heart not also in a wilderness, in the middle of a forest looking up and questioning what is happening? "When Pharaoh drew near, the people of Israel lifted up their eyes, and behold, the Egyptians were marching after them; and they were in great fear. And the people of Israel cried out to the LORD; and they said to Moses, “Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us in bringing us out of Egypt? Is not this what we said to you in Egypt, ‘Let us alone and let us serve the Egyptians’? For it would have been better for us to see the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.” And Moses said to the people, “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today; for the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be still.'" -Exodus 14:10-14 Thank God for Moses, who dealt with, stood up for and defended the Israelites in all of their grumblings. Heck, the Israelites didn’t even want to leave their slavery because of their fear of the unknown. So, thanks Moses, for your pursuit of the Israelites. Let me etch these words onto my heart. And, please God, help me not forget the wonders and miracles you have worked in my life, and that through this wilderness, your goodness will prevail: “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today…The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be still.” My favorite restaurant in Kolkata, Delhi Darbar
I’ve been thinking of this whole fasting thing a lot lately. I mean…I’m a Catholic and it’s Lent, so…maybe that’s a given? Regardless, I’ve been thinking about it.
How do I do this whole fasting thing? How does God expect me to do this whole fasting thing? First, I re-wound my life to a year ago. February 2019. I had just moved to 1ndia and if I’m honest with myself, it was really hard and I wasn’t exactly enjoying it. I was sweating all the time, the food was different, the bugs irked me past logical reason, and the every day tasks of life caused me this seemingly unending loop of misery. And then Lent came around. So, per the perpetual habit of my Catholic Lenten goals, I brainstormed and tried to pray about what I should give up; what I should sacrifice. I tried chocolate for a few days, but then I realized that at that time, chocolate was one of the only comforts I found and one of the only familiarities that brought me joy. So, I mostly stopped trying to give up chocolate, knowing that I would cave. I also told Jesus that I had given up everything so I was done with giving up things for a while. Yes, I actually told Him this. I think He appreciates an honest friend. But, I still had this voice in the back of my head saying, ‘If you really loved Jesus, you’d be able to give up chocolate and sacrifice this for Him.’ (Get behind me Satan - can I get an Amen?!) So, with these words rising in my head, I resolved to try and exercise more self-control and not just buy chocolate willy-nilly. Which, hind-sight is 20/20, and I can look back and recognize that condemning voice as satan’s and not Jesus’. Nonetheless, that’s what happened. But I started to realize that perhaps I’ve been going about this whole fasting and Lent thing in the wrong way. Then, it was Easter and I forgot, or I just let it go. So, now, here I am. In Lent again. And fasting has been cascading its way into my thoughts. Also, I don’t like Lent. I didn’t grow up liking it, I haven’t liked it as an adult, and I don’t understand people who say that Lent is their favorite, because I just don’t understand this fasting thing and why someone would want to fast and suffer. Then, I went to Mass on Friday and the first reading was Isaiah 58. And I literally couldn’t believe what I was hearing. (If it’s too long to read this passage now - I understand. But please, for your own sake, read the whole passage. It might change your life. It might help. Or, it might not. There’s only one way to find out.) ‘Why have we fasted, and you see it not? Why have we humbled ourselves, and you take no knowledge of it?’ Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure, and oppress all your workers. Behold, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to hit with the wicked fist. Fasting like yours this day will not make your voice to be heard on high. Is such the fast that I choose, a day for a man to humble himself? Is it to bow down his head like a rush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Will you call this a fast, and a day acceptable to the Lord? “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh? Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, Here I am.” Isaiah 58: 3-9 Before hearing this passage from the marvelous prophet Isaiah, I started to think that this whole ‘suffering for suffering’s sake’ thing isn’t what God has in mind for us. That He doesn’t want us to go around inflicting our own suffering, because, and I’m not sure if you’ve been living in the real world lately, but suffering happens naturally. I know. Plot twist. You’ve lived life, right? You can admit that you make daily sacrifices, have daily sufferings, whether big or small? Whether it’s seemingly ‘small’, such as exercising patience when you’d rather shout or get angry, doing the dirty dishes in the sink that aren’t yours when you’re already cranky, or being hurt by a close friend or family member. Or, perhaps your sufferings are on the larger scale; grieving the loss of a loved one, chronic illness, or going through an injury that has left your life quite different than it was before. But these things happen naturally; sufferings happen daily. So, where did I get this notion that God wants me to inflict my own suffering - that I “have” to make things harder for myself? I think it’s as Isaiah says: “in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure” As I heard these words, I realized that for my whole life I’ve been fasting to seek my own pleasure. To show myself my own will power, or that I am better at Lent than other people. *Exhales* So, if I want to re-set how I’ve been doing this whole fasting thing, then how do I do this? What does God really want? “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?” Ironically, (but not really ironically, because God can use all things to bring about His plan), I had also been thinking a lot about freedom. So, as I sat there at Mass and I heard these words, my heart did a little skip of joy. It was only a little skip, because the lovely sister who was doing the reading had an accent that was hard for me to understand, and I honestly thought that when she read those words, they were too good to be true and I resolved to read the reading on my own later. And I did read it later. And it really is what Isaiah said. I sat there in prayer: Is this really what you want, God? That, I could look at this time of fasting as a time to press into my own freedom? That you actually want to give me freedom during Lent, not suffering? It blew my mind that God can use fasting to break the bonds that I have in my life - the bonds to things that I don’t want to have bonds to. You know what I’m talking about - those things in life that have a hold on us that we don’t want to admit, but we know they’re there? For me, it’s instagram. Right? Yea. Instagram has a bond on me, and I am simply not okay with that. And Jesus wants to undo the yoke (aka, burdens) that are on my shoulders. So, I literally sat there and asked Him, ‘Lord, what are the burdens that I’m not giving you? What burdens am I carrying that you’re not asking me to carry?’ I think if we invite the Lord into that question, and if we’re open, He’ll show us. He literally wants to break every burden that we are carrying, and let us go free. I recognize that there are burdens in our lives that might not simply go away. Pain, illness, grief, depression - but in those burdens, where am I not inviting the Lord in? In my seemingly endless suffering, where am I refusing the Lord entry? Am I telling Him everything? Am I leaving it in His hands if He wants to relieve it, even if only for a short while, or am I open to Him healing me completely? So, Isaiah. Let’s hash this out: You’re telling me that God gives me the freedom I’ve been seeking; that I don’t have to do things simply to suffer so that I can somehow prove to God that I love Him? And, God actually wants me to be free from burdens? So… WHY IN THE WORLD HAVE I BEEN GIVING UP CHOCOLATE ALL THESE YEARS LIKE A CHUMP? There is something to be said for fasting (which is one of the things we are asked to do during Lent). And it makes sense that as a child I would give up chocolate, because my faith, knowledge of Jesus, the scriptures and my Catholic faith were pretty minimal. But, I’d like to think that as I’ve become an adult, I’ve grown in my prayer life and my relationship with Jesus. So, perhaps this Lent, Jesus isn’t asking me (or you) to give up something just because it’ll be hard. I think He’s asking us to give up something that will bring about a greater freedom in our lives. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when posed with the question: What do you need freedom from in your life? It’s a harder, soul-searching, possibly heart-wrenching approach to Lent, vs. the typical, ‘what are you giving up for Lent’ question. Because, it causes us to stop and think; think about those things that we typically spend our days trying to suppress. And, because thinking about these things takes time and effort - both mental and physical. Inviting the Lord into an area of our life that we want freedom from, an area of our life that if given the choice we would ignore for all eternity, is hard work. It’s easier to just give up chocolate. There’s a couple things for me that I’m seeking freedom from. One is Instagram. But, I didn’t want to admit to the Lord that I was impulsively going on Instagram all the time. I didn’t want to admit that I felt an addiction to my phone - because I wanted to be ‘better’ than that. I didn’t want Jesus to have to break this bond, because, in my mind, it was a burden that I had created for myself. One that took up too much of my time, caused me to go to bed late, rush in the morning, and one that brought about endless comparisons to others and negative self-talk. But, you know what else Isaiah says? “Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, Here I am.” So, Isaiah, level with me here - you’re telling me that if I allow myself to be set free, (because that’s how it has to work, right? God can’t simply break us free of something if we’re not going to admit that it’s there) I’ll receive healing? And, in the midst of doing this freedom work (because yes, it’s hard work), when I cry out to God in frustration and pain, He’ll hear me, and be with me? And the incredible thing is that this verse starts out by saying “Then shall your light break forth like the dawn.” And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the sun always rises. Every day. Always. In other words, there is always a dawn. Whether or not we do the work of asking ourselves the tough questions and working towards more freedom, the dawn will always come. But, would’t it be a much happier, joyful, sweeter dawn if we were free and allowed God to heal us? Don’t we all want to be more whole human beings? So, I don’t know what’s going to happen this Lent, or what the outcome will be. And yes, to some, it might seem like I am the average millennial simply giving up something typical. But I know giving up Instagram isn’t just me trying to prove to myself or anyone else that I can do it. It’s really me working to seek more freedom in my life; in inviting the Lord into this weakness and asking Him to break this bond. Plus, I’m actually *kind of* excited for Lent now. Because instead of looking at it as this dreaded mandatory period of suffering - I’m taking it to be this time of seeking greater freedom from things I don’t really want in my life anyway. Plus, I’m still eating chocolate…so if that’s not a win I’m not sure what is. Perhaps there’s a bond you have to certain foods, habits that are unhealthy, or relationships that are soul-sucking. Or, maybe there’s an attachment you have to anger, resentment, negative speech. I don’t know what it is - that’s for you to reflect and pray about. What is it you want freedom from? Ultimately, I refuse to believe in a God who desires my suffering. What if God’s “plan” for suffering is not that we inflict our own suffering, but rather bare the suffering that comes to us naturally, and accept everything else as a gift…even during Lent? 3:45PM I arrive in a city in Asia (hints: 2nd most populated country…large city) 45 minutes before landing time. Fine by me - thanks captain. 4:45PM After getting through immigration and heaving my bags onto one of those push-trolly things (which my sister seems to think are called bell hops - but I’m pretty sure that’s a person…not a cart), I find my way out to wait for my friend, who’s plane was also due to land at 4:30pm, but I found it was delayed. 5PM Creepily walk around the airport searching every face for the one face I’m looking for. I find out which carousel her luggage is going to be at and wait. Thing is, I can’t go directly to the carousel, because my luggage came to a different area and I had to leave my luggage area to get to her, but the ‘officials’ wouldn’t let me into her luggage area. So, here I am at this glass door staring intently at the people who are waiting at carousel 4, hoping that my friend will see me. 5:15PM This nice guy comes up and asks if I’m okay. Wait - you mean, it’s not normal to see someone pacing up and down one particular area of an airport looking lost? I turned him away, explaining that I was just waiting for a friend. 5:30PM Carousel 4 has no more travelers around it and my friend is not there. I figured I would take the guy’s offer for help and ask to use his hot spot so I could call my friend. Turns out she wasn’t able to get on her flight - for a ridiculous, silly reason that wasn’t her fault. 5:50PM I call my first Uber. For some reason or another Uber and I aren’t good friends. Uber seems to be that kind of friend who ducks out of life when things get rough. So, I have some trust issues with Uber - but for good reason. Case in point, what happens next. First the car is 10 minutes away, then 5, a normal progression, so we’re seemingly off to ta good start. Then it goes back to 10. Then 11. Insert that emoji with the gritted teeth showing. But, I honestly can’t get mad, because I’m so sleep deprived at this point I think I’m the equivalent of being on some kind of drug (I don’t know…I learned it in high school that if you go without sleeping then your body starts to do things that makes it think you’re on drugs. Then, in college I learned that if you don’t sleep you die. Literally. Google it.) 6:15PM Go to Uber desk at airport and the nice woman working helps me call another Uber. 6:20PM Decide to go somewhere closer to the airport for the night and cancel the second Uber. Call another Uber and proceed to wait. By this time, I’m thinking that I really should go to the bathroom because who knows what the traffic will be like and I’ll probably have to go to the bathroom soon. But, I decide to forgo the bathroom (a silly mistake), because I didn’t know where the closest one was and I didn’t want to miss my THIRD Uber that I had called. 6:30PM Get to the Uber. Praise the Lord. People probably had a good laugh whilst I maneuvered my 3 bags across the street and up the median. But nonetheless I was in a car heading to a hotel I found on Google. ETA: 7:15pm 6:40PM Drive by a Holiday Inn and I think to myself - this is my saving grace. Literally a shining halo came above the Holiday Inn and I saw Moses and Abraham descending from clouds pointing and saying: “Your heavenly Jerusalem awaits…” I hastily ask the driver: “There’s a Holiday Inn that we just passed (literally 30 seconds ago), can we turn around and you can take me there instead?” Driver: “M’am, I’m not understanding” Me: “The Holiday Inn, behind (me pointing), can you take me?” Driver: “Yes, when your holiday is done I will come get you” Me: “No, there is a hotel named Holiday Inn - back there. Can you take me?” Driver: “Ahh, okay. Let me find it” Ironically as we drove by that one strip of the Holiday Inn, the traffic was moving like a kid on a water slide at Kalahari (the worlds largest outdoor water park in The Dells, WI...some trivia for you). Then, after this convo ended we were in dead stop traffic. And that’s when I really noticed that I had to go. I mean, I really had to go. But, I thought, okay, if we can get turned around, this Holiday Inn won’t take too long to get to and then I can hurry up and go inside. 7:00PM Pull up to the Holiday Inn. Guy who’s working the security fence thing: “M’am do you have a room booked here?” Me: “No, but I’d like to book one” Security guy: “M’am, this hotel hasn’t opened yet.” (As in, it's not open for business yet) Me: “…..oh” 7:05PM We get back on the road to go to hotel number 1 and there’s more bumper to bumper traffic. The urgency to relieve myself only gets stronger by the second. In one of the 10 minute we-aren’t-moving stints that was the reality of the horrifying traffic, I legitimately thought about getting out of the car and going on the side of the road. An obvious faux pas anywhere, but specifically where I am, it would be the equivalent to seeing someone walking around naked in broad daylight in the States. So, I decide to just grin and bear it - although instead of a grin, my face looked more like sheer panic, so I’m pretty positive the Uber driver was scared of me. 7:30PM Driver misses the turn for the Hotel. I cry myself into an oblivion. Just kidding, that didn’t happen - but he did miss the turn. The hotel was on the left side of the road (keep in mind we drive on the left side of the road in the country I’m in), but instead of taking another turn left - to then go back around to the hotel, he kept driving for a while until he could take a right turn - where there was a break in the median. 7:40PM Driver turns around - more bumper to bumper traffic The hotel is now on the right side, but we can’t just aimlessly take turns wherever we want because there’s a median in the middle of the road with an equivalent of a fence in it. So, we pass the hotel A G A I N but this time it’s to our right and the driver goes - “Hotel?” Like he didn’t know that was the hotel. Yes, that hotel. (I've got to give this guy credit, he was so patient with me in trying to go to the Holiday Inn, but I was less than thrilled about the missed turn) 8:00PM We finally turn around again and I’m starting to see stars, I'm about to hurl (from delayed access to a bathroom or car sickness...?One doesn't really know), and I’m thinking about my chances of getting a UTI from this whole shindig. And you bet your bottom dollar that my eyes are glued to the window ready to spot that heavenly hotel sign. We’re getting really close and I say “That’s it! HOTEL!” Driver pulls in - the end is in sight. 8:25PM Get into the hotel and after getting the driver paid, I ask the owner if I can use a bathroom. He asks me if I want to get checked in first. Me: “…uhmmm…” Hotel guy: “Ah, okay. *Says something to one of his workers*” He shows me to my room and tells me I can use the bathroom. Cue Kanye’s song Selah, HALLELUJAH HE IS WONDERFUL. So, I didn’t wet my pants like a child in the back of an Uber. Just another example of how I know there is a God. I must have spotted a bathroom.
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hey.my moto is summarized best by these words:
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.” -Brene Brown thanks Brene. you're quite the gal. Past Musings
July 2020
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