Honors Thesis pt 1 completed!!!!!

Yay!  I've finished Part 1 of my honors thesis.  It's approximately 11 pages long and has very little argument in it (mostly an explanation of Bernard's philosophy on free choice).  But I'm excited to have it finished.  Now I can move onto building more of my own argument and delving into the philosophical influences on  Bernard.  Woot!

Liquid luck or naivety?

Last night, amidst the cold and the snow, I was thinking about this seemingly unexplainable confidence I have in where my vocation lies.  There's no doubt that had I simply made a list of possible orders and tried to guess based off of empirical information, I would have scratched this community off without much thought.  Two reasons: a) they're missionary and b) they have a Spanish flavor to them.

I'm about as white as you get.  I grew up in a rather non-diverse area.  Although, come to think, both of the men I've dated have been of Spanish decent... one was Mexican and the other from Peru (they were first generation Americans-- both sets of parents came from their respective Spanish countries).  But diversity is not one of my hometown's strengths.

Regarding mission work...  I've always had a strange attraction to it.  Not sure how to explain it.  Not the great love for it that some people have.  But a small attraction to it.  I remember at the beginning of my sophomore/junior year, I was watching a dvd on St. John Bosco (my friend had got it for me for my birthday, since my confirmation saint is St. Dominic Savio).  And I felt God tugging my heart.  After the movie concluded (it was long and in Italian), I went to the chapel and tried to figure out what in the world this was supposed to mean; all of the sudden I felt the greatest desire for missionary work.  It didn't make sense to me...  again, I'm not fitted for missionary work.  I don't have those sorts of gifts or talents.  But I said "yes," if it was God's will, I'd do it.  That kind of died down over time and I figured that it had just been one of those moments where God wanted to see if I'd be willing to make that act of faith and trust, but not that He necessarily intended it for me.

Needless to say, without knowing them there's no way I would've chosen to discern with them.  In fact, I didn't really even choose that, to some degree.  Even I didn't think they'd be a match for me, so when I first met them and started seeing more of them, I was just enjoying my time with them.  Discernment with them didn't even cross my mind.  And they never mentioned it either (that's another thing I've loved in this whole process... they're not pushy about vocations at all, like some communities I know of).  Kind of funny how it sounds like dating, eh?  I remember beginning to recognize my attraction to them...  and really struggling with it, because I really wanted to be a Dominican.  And it confused me a lot.  And I remember that one day in prayer I really just had to give up my will and give God the chance to lead me in this direction if it was His will for me.

Things get dangerous when you do that.  I could enumerate events that happened after this...  but honestly, I can't pinpoint a specific moment or event which I could say to myself "I know this is where God wants me."  I can't.  But I do know.  I kind of feel like Harry Potter after he's taken the liquid luck in hoped to get the memory from Slughorn.  (Speaking of the movie here.)  He has a plan all set out for himself, then after he takes a drink, his plans completely change and he doesn't know why he's doing something different, he just knows he should.

I had a long conversation with our chaplain a few nights ago that kind of bothered me.  Now, I love this man. He may very well be the holiest person that I know and I've learned so much from him the two years he's been here.  He's prayerful, insightful, and just wonderful.

Anyways, he was asking me about my discernment, and in particular with my discernment with this community.  As prudently as he could, he expressed some concerns about the order that he wanted me to keep in mind.  Mostly about culture and it being of "Argentinian flavor," as he said.  Apparently he's known a young woman who spent time there and then came out.  He didn't give any specifics, but he did give one example of how perhaps the culture differences could be problematic.  He said that the Argentinian mind-set  tended to place a lot of demands on people and it was simply expected that you succeed.  There is no "try," there's just "do."

The conversation went on, and as gently as he could (and although he didn't say it outright, I could tell he was thinking it), he implicitly was telling me that he didn't think it was a right fit for me.

Coming from just anyone, I honestly wouldn't think much of it.  But coming from him, it's certainly made me pause.  He's another one who's always thought that I'd become a Dominican.  When he gave me a blessing before I left for NY, he invoked a long list of Dominican saints.

So, there's that.  I mean, he's not my spiritual director.  But I do value his opinion and he knows me almost as well as does my spiritual director.  At the same time, however, I can't help but feel called to them.  I've never felt so certain about God's will for me (even if it's merely to apply, enter, and leave... or whatever He has in mind-- not that I would want to leave... but I do feel called to at the very least apply with the intention of living out my vocation there).  And I've never felt as though I've been more open to God's will than I am now.  Truly desiring to do His will over mine, knowing that by following His will and abiding in His love, I will be a cause of His Joy, and my joy will be complete.

Is it God's liquid luck (grace) or simply naivety?

I can't explain why I should be called here.  I really can't.  Like I said, from the looks of everything, I should be a Dominican.  But...  I honestly can't see myself anywhere else.  Perhaps God is calling me elsewhere.  And if He is, then I will go willingly.  I will leave them behind without a second thought.  I just want to be where He wants me.

From best I can discern, this is it.  Maybe it doesn't make sense on some levels.  But on others, it makes perfect sense.

High of 19?!

It's currently 17 degrees outside with a wind chill of 8.  The high for today? 19 degrees.  The low? 6 degrees.  Holy chills!  That's cold!

I am in no way used to this sort of cold.  I come from a part of the country where it's consistently 40-60 degrees and raining.  For a few months we either go down or up- so one month during the summer we might consistently be up in 70s-80s, a few days hitting the upper 90s.  And one month or so in the winter we'll go down to the 20s-30s, perhaps getting some snow.

This is ridiculous!

Okay, done complaining now.  Except that I actually have to go out in the cold.  Yuck.  All the way up to the Grotto, too, so I can go to Mass.  Then to Patriot (our dining hall) for lunch and working on my honors thesis.

On a random note, my econ professor started class yesterday playing a song from Les Mis and it made my day. Everyone stared at me relentlessly when I started singing along...  what can I say?  You learn the lyrics when you play in the pit for the musical and go through hours and hours of rehearsal.

Even more random...  I trying to figure out a good paper topic for my Moral Philosophy thesis.  But I'm honestly coming up pretty short on topics.  One of those cases where there are lots of good topics and I'm looking for the right one and nothing's going to sound good until "the one" hits me.  I'm toying around with doing a philosophical defense of chastity/celibacy.  But I don't know.  I want to do something that's important for the Church to defend philosophically, as well as theologically.  And I don't necessarily want to do any of the typical topics... homosexuality, abortion, death penalty, etc.

I went to a talk last night that did bring up a possible topic for me, although I'm not sure I have the scientific background to really get a good grasp of it.  Essentially, science has gotten to the point where they can take adult stem cells and insert them into something like an embryo of a goat.  So, they could take stem cells of a human liver and insert them into the embryo of a goat.  That goat will then have a human liver.  (They've done different sorts of experiments with "chimera's"-- literally two animals meshed together.  Say a goat and sheep. The hind legs might be goat and the head and brain a sheep.  And if you biopsied one part or the other, one biopsy will say sheep and the other goat.  And they can mate.  So weird.)  But back to the goat having a human liver.  Conceivably, we could see a time when people have put copies of their exact organs into these animals, and, when they need them, bring the goat into the hospital with them and do the transplant.  But what happens when it's not just a liver?  What if it's a brain?  What if it's 80% you and only 20% sheep?

It sounds like sci-fi to me, but honestly...  it's the type of questions we're going to have to talk about nowadays.

The talk last night was absolutely excellent.  It was hosted by the Institute of Psychological Studies (IPS) and the speaker was Fr. Kevin Fitzgerald, S.J. Ph. D.  I think we're going to continue going to the series.  One of our professors, who teaches the Body or Soul class, invited us along and our dean paid for tickets.

After the talk, the four of us Mount students and our professor got to speak with Father for a while.  I think we were the only philosophy folks around-- everyone else seemed to be psychology or science.  But, we got into an interesting discussion...  See, with the discovery of evolution, there have been many consequences on how we understand the natural world.  For instance, there is really no longer any concept of "species."  The science world doesn't think of things in terms of species at all.

This is somewhat troubling for us philosophers, in our conception of metaphysics.  How do we determine essence?  Genera + differentia = species.  Also...  consider the soul.  If we're using Aristotle as foundational to our concept of the soul...  what happens?  Aristotle didn't see evolution and his concept of the soul doesn't really account for the process of evolution.

From a human perspective, inside of time, it now seems that at some point during the evolution of the hominoid, God "decided" to give man souls.  But what exactly does that mean now?  Fr. Fitzgerald proposed that we need to rethink exactly what we consider a soul to be...  Could it not be possible that at some point during the evolution process, a being was born that had the capacity for a love relationship with God?  And that that relationship is possible by what we define as "soul?"

It's interesting.  But does that mean, when the first human received a soul or was born with the ability to have a relationship with its creator, that his "older brother" was not human?  Or his parents?  Just somewhere along the line?

Crazy stuff.  Again, I'm severely lacking in knowledge in the science realm.  So I still as though I'm at a point of observing and absorbing.  Major thoughts will have to wait until I understand more.

Man, I'm going to miss the world of academia.  I really am.  I love it so much.  I love philosophy and I love these types of questions.  I don't what I'm going to do without it when I graduate.

...Love is patient...

Not sure why I was surprised by his direction, but I have to admit that it did catch me off guard.  And for a while, disappointed me.

I've gotta wait a month, maybe a little bit longer, before officially applying.

He's wise and I know that he's right in suggesting it, but it did disappoint me.  He said that now is the time to basically say to God, "Lord, this is what I think You've asked of me-- these are all of the different supernatural signs that should be present with this sort of calling...  this is where I think You want me.  If it's not, please make it very clear to me.  I want to do Your will, not mine."

And really, what is another month?  It's not as though I plan on leaving before graduation anyways.  I suppose my eagerness is really a sort of pride-- I just want everything set in stone now.

I came to peace with it last night.  I mean, I'm still a bit a disappointed... I had really hoped to make that call here soon.  But really, it comes down to trust.  And truly desiring what He wants, not just what I want.

Something can't be right because there ain't nothing wrong

Sometimes I look at my life and think to myself, "Heh.  Now that's nothing near what I could have ever imagined for my life three years ago."  And it's not.  I'm pretty sure that my life is very abnormal.

I also, rather often, look at my life and think to myself, "Oh God.  You are way too good to me."  And He is.  I'm pretty sure that God has beaten me repeatedly over the head with His Grace Bucket.  (You know, sometimes those extra moments of grace stick to the bottom of the bucket and need to be forced out.)

You know, one of my favorite prayers was taught to me by a priest friend of mine when he was a deacon.  It's very simple and I find that it can be used in all circumstances.  It goes like this, "Thank you, Jesus, for loving me this way."  When something frustrating happens...  when something amazing happens... when something terrible happens...  when something very normal happens...  It's a small little prayer that I find myself repeating very often.

Sometimes I wonder, rather irrationally, whether or not God's will can really coincide with something that I desperately desire.  And I mean this more than just the abstract, "I want to get to Heaven" sort of thing.  Obviously I'm thinking specifically of my vocation.  Sometimes it seems much easier to know God's will when you're struggling to accept it.  Like, you know deep down what it is, but you keep fighting it.  But it almost seems that the moment you embrace it fully, are full of joy, and become excited about it...  you begin to wonder... Wait, is this really what God wants of me afterall? Surely this can't be right...  Or at least I've been tempted to think in such a way.

Granted, I've also recognized this as mostly irrational.  God wants us to be happy.  That's the whole point of a vocation.  It's the state of life (and place or person) where we will be most happy and where we will grow most in holiness.  Surely God wants us to rejoice when He reveals this to us.

Then again, there's always something to be said that one ought to rejoice in the gift, most certainly, but never more so than rejoicing in the Giver of the gift.

Thanks be to God that He has somewhat protected me from this ever-so subtle temptation.  I mean, it's wonderful to rejoice in the gift!  It's a good in itself.  But even more importantly...  rejoice in it because it's from Him and because it bring Him joy to see you rejoice in the gift He has given.

And there's always that very subtle temptation to think, as well...  I think there's a line from a country song that captures it fairly well...  Something can't be right because there ain't nothing wrong.

But, like I said.  Believe it or not, things can go well and things can go smoothly.  It's okay to be happy.  Funny how society does a pretty poor job of teaching us how to be happy, eh?  It's so easy, so comfortable, so normal to be sad, discontent, depressed...  It's pretty difficult to let oneself be loved and full of joy.

Well, bed is now looking like a very inviting option (it's past 2:30am).  Tomorrow will be spent working on my honors thesis (ugh) and meeting up with the Sisters of Life.

March for Life 2010

It has certainly been an exceedingly crazy week.  A good one, but most definitely crazy.


Wednesday I spent five hours with the Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist.  The novice mistress came to campus with all 16 postulants.  They were wonderful!  We hosted Evening Prayer followed by dinner for any young women who was interested and we have about fifteen girls come, which was excellent!  After dinner, the novice mistress gave a talk entitled "Bread of Life/Culture of Life" as a sort of pep-talk for the March for Life.  We had an excellent turnout!  Probably about 45-50 students came.  Which was great considering it was the third day back from break and we hardly advertised at all.  It was meant to be a smaller venue.


I have to admit I was nervous having them come.  I've longed loved the Dominicans and when I first began really discerning, I had my heart set on these sisters.  I devoured their website, figured out everything I could about them, etc.  I had never met them, but I loved them!  Haha.  I had plenty of plans to go out for a retreat, too!  Oh Dominicans.  Yes, I still have a special place in my heart for them.  But I was nervous that maybe I would be super attracted to them, then get really confused all over again.  Because that's what happened with the SSVMs at first, when I started really feeling attracted to them.  I was so confused because I loved the Dominicans so much.  Yet God was drawing my heart in a different direction.  I dragged my feet!  Of course, now I'm in love (in such a drastically different way-- I like to think of my 'love' for the Dominicans as more of an infatuation, haha) and as much as I love the Dominicans...  Well, spending time with them was great, but it also just reinforced where I want to be!  God is good!


The Tolle Lege issues are printed and ready for distribution.  I've been trying to coordinate the distribution process and we had settled on Friday afternoon... until I realized that half of us were going on the March for Life and wouldn't even be on campus Friday!  Dope!  You have no ideas how many times I tried to schedule things for that day.  Proof that I need to keep my day planner with me at all times.  I'm excited to get the journals out, though.  I can still hardly believe that I survived the editing process.  That was crazy last semester.  I can also hardly believe that one of my essays that I submitted made it in and I'm officially published!


Friday was the March for Life!  Talk about a long day!  Sadly we didn't have tickets to the Verizon center for the Youth Rally, but we had Mass at the Mount before heading down.  We were situated in the Mall pretty close to the stage by 11am.  We saw a lot of people we knew from different colleges, as well as a lot of Mount grads.  It was great.


I don't usually do well with crowds but by God's grace I managed to stay calm the entire day.


At one point during the pre-march rally, one of the Mount grads (and a good friend of mine) called to say she was with Sr. M, our FOCUS Missionary from last year who had entered the Sisters of Life.  They were way far away from us, but one our current missionaries, my best friend and I all pushed through the crowd for four blocks and met up with them.  It was so nice to see her!!!!  Unfortunately we could only stay for a while because the march was beginning and we needed to get back to our group.


I was really disappointed at this point, because I had sincerely hoped to see the SSVMs somewhere.  Sr. Joy had called me on Thursday night to let me know where they'd be at the March so we could try to meet up.  But it just didn't seem to be God's will.


UNTIL.  We were marching along and our group was praying the rosary.  I had just begun leading the third mystery.  Then I heard something.  Drums and trumpets?  Could it be?  I was so distracted looking behind me and to the left.  I couldn't quite tell.  But it totally was the IVEs and SSVMs.


We ended up marching right next to each other!  What a blessing!  I got to see some of the sisters and catch up with Sr. J.  And one of my friends from the Mount who had entered in the summer got to come and see all of the Mount students.  It was wonderful!


Needless to say, that made my day.  


Now I have a ton of reading to catch up on.  And my thesis advisor asked for "whatever you have written" by Monday morning.  Ugh.  It's the same nine pages I've had for a while now.  I don't wannna do it anymore!!  *whine*


Oh!  Two sisters from the Sisters of Life are coming to campus tomorrow!  Hello!  So, I'll be taking them on a tour of the Grotto, attending Solemn Vespers with the seminary, and then taking them to dinner.  Should be fun!

And we're back!

Whew.  Talk about jumping right into the hustle and bustle of that crazy thing we call university life!  There's quite the chasm between my last two weeks at home and my first two days of classes.  The juxtaposition of the two by itself is enough to exhaust me!

Needless to say, I made it back to the Mount safe and sound.  One of my best friends picked me up from the airport on Saturday evening and I spent the night at her house.  We hit the road in the morning and arrived at the Mount in the early afternoon.  I spent most of the day cleaning my room (it was a mess since I had decided to go up to New York during finals week-- that was not originally part of my plans!) and unpacking my suitcases.  Whilst doing said activities I came to the realization that:

a) I have way too much clothes.  Especially jackets.  It's ridiculous.  And I'm not even one of those girls who loves to shop and what not.  My mom loves to buy me things.  Thus I own a ridiculous amount of clothing.  We have a clothing drive for Haiti going on right now, so I think I'm going to get rid of some stuff.

b) I own A LOT of books.  This one I'm not complaining about.  ;-)  But, I probably have about 70 books "out" in my room.  Plus two full plastic bins of books that I figured I wouldn't be using this semester.  And these don't even include the probably 150 or so books that I have at home (and wish I had at school! I love my books!).  That's definitely one thing I'll miss when/if I enter.  My books.

At any rate, I went to Mass Sunday evening and then hung out with a big group of friends.  We played this weird game... I can't recall the name of it, but it was like a very complicated Apples to Apples.  It was awesome!  And goodness gracious you could tell we were a Catholic group!  So many of our witty answers revolved somehow around something Catholic.  It was good times, though.  I really want to make it a priority to spend quality time with my friends this semester.

Speaking of...  I remember something that my AP Government teacher told my high school senior class.  She said, "There are three things you can do in college: study, have a social life, and sleep.  Unfortunately you can only do two of the three simultaneously.  Without fail, one of the three will be left behind."

Add to that list keeping a healthy spiritual life and work and you find that it becomes a heck of a juggling game to squeeze in everything.

I'd be crazy if I didn't say I'm a little bit worried about this semester.  I thought it was going to be a breeze, but after having been to all of my classes, now I'm not so sure.  Each of my five classes have a major research paper in it (usually you only have two, maybe three that have a substantial paper assigned).  I counted up the number of pages total that I'll be writing and it hit 64 pages.  And mind you that does not include the smaller papers (2-3 pages) OR my honors theses (which is supposed to be 25-50 pages long).  Heh.  If I die this semester, everyone knows why.

I'd be a little more relaxed about my writing this semester if it weren't for the fact that these are all research papers.  I can write fairly quickly (I usually write all my papers the night before they're due... those are usually 5-7 pages) and I do very well.  But, I'll be the first to admit that I'm just not that great at research.  I don't enjoy it and I can't do it quickly.  I get bored too easily.  And frankly (this is probably the biggest problem), I don't have the discipline to start it early.  Of course I'm going to have to with all of these projects.  Otherwise there's no way I'll survive the semester.

On the other hand, my classes are all really swell.  I love them!  History of Economic Thought (ECON 406) is going to be tough...  I'm not so sure the professor was honest with me when he said I'd be fine in it (he was trying to make sure that there would be enough people signing up for it to teach it).  Luckily I'm taking it pass/fail, so I only need to earn 60% to pass the class.  It's going to be very informative, though!  Basically the professor wants to teach us that we can't blame economic systems (particularly capitalism) as the causes for our social evils.  Rather, the cause of our social evils is spiritual.  We have to remedy the spiritual problems in order to fix the social evils.  This is why it's sad that so many religious and priests have turned to simply trying to fix social justice issues (not to say they're not important- they are!) rather than focus on the spiritual well-being of their people they serve.

My Contemporary Catholic Philosophy (PHIL 346, I think) is also going to rock.  We're reading Ratzinger, Henri de Lubac, Alasdair MacIntrye, and Pope Paul VI.  The course is essentially trying to understand and examine the Catholic response to the problems of modernity.  It's going to be great.

Moral Philosophy is going to be awesome simply because it is.  We're reading Fagothey (Thomist), Grisez (Thomist, but not in the traditional sense), Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics, and then a few other things.  The class is being taught by my s/d, an amazingly intelligent moral theologian.  About 2/3 of the class are seminarians.

And Body or Soul: A Philosophical Investigation (PHIL 400) is going to be tough, but very intriguing.  Our very Catholic professor wants to help us delve into the relationship between the brain and the soul and the functions of each.  None of us know a lot of science, but we'll be learning as we go.  Our first reading is Charles Darwin!  Then we're moving onto a lot of Plato (we're reading the entire Phaedo and Republic).  Aristotle's De Anima of course.  Something else.  Oh!  And Brave New World  by Huxley.  Great book!

All good stuff.  I'm exhausted now, however.  It's been a long day.  Woke up for the 7am Mass and made my holy hour right afterward.  Then had class, a short break for lunch, another class, and then work for the rest of the afternoon.

But, God is good!  And life is wonderful!  I can't wait to meet with my s/d on Monday of next week!

Huh

So tonight I went out with one of my best guy friends from high school.  It had been a few months since the last time we had hung out and we really wanted to get together one more time before I went back to school.

I've found that he's one of the few friends from high school that I've stayed in pretty close contact with.  I suppose that happens fairly often.  And he and I dated off and on throughout high school, so we've remained pretty close through the years.

Well, tonight we weren't alone when we out, which was fine with me.  He brought one of his guy friends from school.

Guy "friend."

Yup, he came "out."  And the other guy is his boyfriend.

I'm somewhat shocked.  I say only somewhat, because I began to suspect about a week ago when we were chatting over facebook and I wandered over to one of his photo albums where I saw some pictures that I thought might be...

Definitely confirmed tonight.

I'm not really sure of how to react.  He's my best guy friend.  Honestly, I thought that I was going to marry him [oh high school love].  Even when things went a little... strange... senior year, I still had feelings for him.  Heck, even this past summer, I couldn't help but still like him.  I guess some things will never change.

I don't know.  I don't have time to really reflect about it right now.  I still need to finish packing [yes, I know it's almost 1am].  My flight leaves tomorrow morning at 8am.  I guess I'll have quite a while to mull it over whilst flying.

Talk about a distraction from the usual "transition depression" I get when it comes time for me to leave.  Happens every time.  I love being home and I love being at school.  I hate transitioning between the two.

But I'm really, really excited to get back.  Lots to look forward to this semester.

Well.  I should finish packing now.  Why do I always leave this to the very last minute?  Probably has something to do with the "transition" difficulties I have.

A List of Sorts

A few different thoughts for the night before retiring to bed.

1) RCIA

It was so nice to go back to my parish and sit in on tonight's lesson. I've such a passion for RCIA! For me it was such a fruitful experience and I am so very thankful for it. I know that many are not as blessed and that many programs are lacking. But it was good to go and see Drew and the volunteers, and also to sit and talk with some of this year's participants.

It's a funny sensation, knowing that at that very moment, the Holy Spirit is working through you. I've had a few of these experiences [they seem to be more and more prevalent nowadays] and I am always somewhat caught off guard by them. But it is such a beautiful thing to let go and let the Spirit take over. Really, for the whole evening. My conversations with participants. My short witness talk [I'm not even sure what exactly I said, even!]. And my conversation with Drew after class was over.

That was something special. Drew, who runs and teaches the RCIA program at my parish, has been a great role model for me. It was he who helped me so much during my own time in the program, especially in enduring the opposition from my family. Well, he and I talked for a while after class. I had told him about my desires to apply with a certain community and he had nothing but encouraging words for me! Then he told me a little bit about his own discernment process... He spent time as a seminarian with the Legionaries of Christ before being asked to leave. He discerned the diocesan priesthood. And eventually met his wife, married, and now has a beautiful Catholic family [7 children, with the 8th on the way!]. He's just a great man and has always been someone I've looked up to in regards to the faith. So it was nice to talk to him about all of this.

2) "I Can Love You Like That" by John Michael Montgomery

I heard this song on the radio coming home tonight. [Yes, I am a country music fanatic!] This song absolutely cuts me to the heart. Every. Single. Time. I have a tendency to hear country love songs and think of God. I know, I know, pretty pathetic and perhaps a bit too sentimental. But it's true. Anyways, this song has always been special to me in that context. Just a reminder of how much God loves me and how desperate He is for my love in return. I don't know. I just love this song.

3) "I'm Alive" by Kenny Chesney

While I'm in the country music mode, I figured I'd give a shout out to Kenny Chesney's new song "I'm Alive." Good song. So is "Sounds Like Life to Me" by Darryl Worley.

4) Haiti

The situation in Haiti is terrible; my heart is aching for everyone involved in the tragedy. I've such the urge to just hop on a plane to go and help with the search and rescue teams. Unfortunately that's not much of a possibility for me. Please keep these people in your prayers. Death toll is nearing 50,000 and is on the rise. Rumour has it that along with the Archbishop, many priests and seminarians were killed in the earthquake.

5) Spiritual Direction and Fame

After RCIA tonight one of the sponsors came and asked if I knew a certain priest that works at my school who happens to also be fairly famous in the Catholic world. This particular woman knew him from EWTN.

Yes, I know him. Yup, he's a genius. Yup, he's really holy. Yup, he's my spiritual director. Although I don't say that last part. But it's always interesting how so many people know him. I had no idea who he was when I first met him and when he first suggested direction. But hey, I guess that's how God works sometimes.

6) Christianity and the Crisis of Cultures by Joseph Ratzinger

I read this today. It's a shorter book, just over 100 pages or so. It's one of the books I'll be reading in my Contemporary Catholic Philosophy class later this semester. I had ordered it about a month ago and read it today so as to procrastinate working on my honors thesis. [Yes, I'm that pathetic.]

It was an interesting read. I'm looking forward to reading it more in depth and discussing it during class. But Ratzinger re-proposes Pascal's Wager as a response to today's Modern culture. He recognizes the crisis we are facing: By throwing God out of, well, everything [the public square, philosophy, etc] we have no grounding for any objective morality. Our world is one of relativism and subjectivity. Kant attempted to throw out God and keep morality... but as ingenius as his system is [which, one has to admit, it is a work of a genius], he failed. Ratzinger's answer? Well, he basically states that no one can live, practically speaking, as an agnostic. Even if you supposedly say you don't know whether God exists, practically speaking you are going to live your life in one of two ways: Either as if God does exist or as if God does not exist. Because the answer to whether God exists has practical consequences. So, the answer to our modern problem... non-believers should live as though God exists.

Like I said, I'm interested to reread. I'm not sure I follow Ratzinger's logic the whole way through and I'm not sure that his argument will do much for non-believers. Because, frankly, they don't really care about the crisis of our culture. He presupposes that they even want a solution to this "problem." But, most of them don't. Most have bought into this relativity of morals.

7) Things to Do Tomorrow

Okay, I need to:

*Finish laundry and finish packing
*Call my friend to ensure my ride from the airport on Saturday evening

*Make a few returns to a few different stores

*Finish "Christmas" shopping for the gift exchange upon returning to school

*Noon Mass

*Bake Chocolate Chip Cookies <-- yum!

Hm. Not tired yet. Almost midnight. I really need to get back to school so I can get back on a regular sleep schedule.

My Mountain Home

Above is a picture from our Bicentennial Celebration my freshman year at the Mount, complete with a wonderful firework show! You can see Echo Field, the Seminary [main building pictured], and the Immaculate Conception Chapel to the very right. That bright thing just to the right of the seminary is Our Blessed Mother who is lit day and night, "our Beacon so bright."

I miss my Mountain home, although I can hardly call it a true mountain... to me it is more like a hill. We have real mountains back here on the West Coast. From my house you can see Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Hood, and Mt. Rainier. Those are real mountains.

But I do miss the Mount and I'll be glad to be going back in just a few days. There's just something about that campus. I don't know if it's the fact that living Saints have walked the same paths we walk daily [Mother Teresa visited our school twice, and St. Elizabeth Ann Seton lived in the vicinity] or my wonderful friends or being surrounded by priests and seminarians. It's truly a great place for saints in the making.

Usually when it comes time to go back to school, I find myself dreading the transition phase. Living on two different coasts can cause somewhat of an identity crisis, particularly when basically all of my maturing as a Catholic has occurred out East. Sometimes it can feel like I live two different lives and as hard as I try-- it is difficult to synthesize them.

Somehow I feel very at peace leaving home, even though I am acutely aware that this is my last time leaving as a student. The next time I'll be home, I'll be graduated. I'll be an adult in the truest sense. And likely I'll be leaving home forever shortly thereafter, if I even come back. Essentially, I'm leaving "home" for the last time. Because when and if I do come back here, it won't be "home," at least not as I know it now. Whether I'm in a convent six months from now or in an apartment in DC, this will no longer be "home."

Maybe this sounds like a very trivial distinction. And I suppose in a way it is. I mean, in a way, this will always be my home. Because I can always come back here. Always.

It's just a strange feeling to know that I am starting "real life" by leaving this time. I have three and a half months of retreat into acadamia and then poof- I'm thrown into a world that I've never known.

Hm, well. At any rate, I'm looking forward to getting back to the Mount. I'm looking forward to great classes, awesome friends, and taking the next step regarding my future and vocation! God is good!

Speaking Tonight @ RCIA

On Sunday I ran into my parish's RCIA director, a man whom I look up to as a great role model of the faith. He asked if I would be willing to come and speak to the class on Thursday, to give a little witness of sorts. I happily agreed.

So tonight I'll head over to my parish around 7pm for RCIA. It's kind of neat being able to go back, I think. On multiple levels. RCIA was such a special time for me when I went through it. And now I'm running the program at my school, and am sponsoring a freshman who is seeking baptism. It's beautiful.

I'm not sure what I'm going to say tonight. Somehow I feel as though this is a perfect opportunity to let the Spirit lead where He wills. :-D

Book & Confessions

Well, I just purchased the majority of my books for the next semester. I can't help but be a little grumpy at having dish out $200+ on top of tuition expenses. And the sad thing is that I only about half of my books. I didn't buy any for my history class, since I know that I'll either get the books from the library or I simply won't read them at all. Or, if worst comes to worst, I'll purchase them as I go. [I know that makes me sound like a horrible student... but I really don't care about this class at all-- I'm taking it because it's required for graduation, that's all.]

Luckily some of my philosophy texts are ones that I own already, so I didn't have to reorder those. I generally always buy my philosophy books. What can I say? Although this semester there were some pretty outrageous prices. Dear Professors: When you pick obscure titles for reading lists, it makes our prices go sky-high. Just so you know.

The books I did purchase look to be very interesting, however:

Right and Reason by Austin Fagothey, SJ
Beyond the New Morality: The Responsibilities of Freedom by Germain Grisez
Drama of Atheist Humanism by Henri de Lubac
A Catholic Modernity? by Charles Taylor
Brave New World and Brave New World Revisited by Aldous Huxley
The Making of Modern Economics: The Lives and Ideas of Great Thinkers by Mark Skousen
The Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals by Descartes
Utilitarianism by Mill
Passions of Soul by Descartes
Origin of Species by Darwin

In other news, my hands are absolutely freezing. As is my nose and feet. I think my mom forgot to turn the heat on again this morning.

I went into Portland this morning for Mass, hoping to go to confession beforehand [this parish is the only one I know of in the area that has confessions any day besides Saturday]. But when I arrived, I realized that Fr. D. was hearing confessions, so I decided not to go.

Now, I'm not usually one for caring which priest hears my confession. I'm really not. But... I've had some bad experiences with this particular priest. He's an older man, and God bless him, a very holy man. I've just had three separate experiences confessing with him that keeps me from going back. The first was only my second confession ever. He must've misheard what I confessed or something... but he yelled at me for not respecting the sacrament and hounded me until I felt guilt for something I hadn't done. I was crying something awful and he gave me a full rosary as my penance. Second time wasn't nearly as bad, but he only let me confess one sin before giving me absolution-- I couldn't even say that I wasn't finished yet! Third time the same thing happened and, to top it off, he forgot to give me absolution altogether!

So, needless to say, I just decided not to go. I really would like to go sometime before I head back to school, but it's so hard to find confession times. My parish and the surrounding parishes only offer confessions on Saturdays, which just don't work out for me very well. It's been over a month now since my last confession and I'm used to going every two weeks or so. If I wait until I get back to school, it'll be even longer.

I would ask my parish priest after/before daily Mass if he could hear my confession, but he doesn't seem to be a fan of such spontaneity. And, well maybe I'm just weird, but I'd really like to go before flying across country. :-/

Hm. I should probably continue to work on my honors thesis. I've seemed to have lost all motivation for getting any work done whatsoever. Or I could procrastinate with something. Hm. I could do laundry. Or create playlists on my iTunes...

Conversion Story pt 5 [finale]

“I came that they might have life and have it abundantly!” John 10:10

I spent Holy Week [the week that leads up to Easter Sunday] in Orlando, Florida on my Spring break. It wasn’t exactly the most proper place to prepare for the biggest moment of my life, but I had little choice. My band was there to perform: We marched through Disney World. I was the drum major, so there was no way I could miss the trip. Needless to say, it was an interesting period of preparation.

We arrived back in the NW early in the morning on Holy Saturday, just in time for me to make it to our practice run-through of the Vigil. I was exhausted, but excited! I came home and, to my great surprise, my parents said that they would like to come to my baptism! I was ecstatic.

That whole day I felt as though I was in a haze.

The following is the reflection I wrote the day after:

I wonder if there is a way for me to really put that night's events into words. Everytime someone asks me how I felt or what it was like, all that I can do is smile and mumble, because I can't find the right words to really say what type of transformation occurred. Words can not suffice, my joy is much deeper than words or expressions. I have been touched by God, I have been washed by Him, filled with Him, am in full communion with Him. Who could dare put that sort of experience into words or language? It is impossible.The whole day leading up to that night was a type of haze for me. I was excited, yet numb. It didn't seem real. It did not register with me that it was the night, it couldn't be the night. I had waited so long, wanted it so badly... sometimes you can't really believe that dreams can come true until they do. The fire and procession into the church was really cool. To be led only by Light, Christ's Light. The Old Testament readings and responsorial psalms-- the prayers sung by Father... Everything was prefect.

The New Testament reading caught my attention. It reminded me of exactly what I was doing, of what was going to be happening during my baptism. Father's homily, very moving and simply perfect for the occasion. I prepared silently, preparing to die once and for all to my self, preparing to receive the new life that Christ is offering me. To be truly born anew, a life in Christ. (“I’m just a dead man lying on the carpet can’t find a heartbeat…” ah, good ‘ole Jars of Clay)

Ted called our names, and we proceeded to the front of the church. I forgot to bow. My mind was racing. I was second to last to be baptized. I watched Andrew (a friend about ten years my elder, whom I had grown pretty close to through the months), and it brought tears to my eyes. What a beautiful grace that God offers us!!! To be cleansed, for all of our sins to be washed from our souls, to be brought to life in Christ our Lord!! I will admit that I was nervous, and I probably looked it too. Not necessarily because I was scared or wasn't ready or anything like that. Just nervous. I don't know why. It was finally happening!! I stepped up to the basin and Father smiled at me. I leaned over and turned my head. He mispronounced my name, but I didn't care... The water caught me by surprised as it was poured over my head. It was cool, but not too cold and definitely not warm. And now is where words fail me. I wish I could say what I felt or what I thought, but it is all beyond expression. There was no "over-coming emotion of the Spirit" or anything like that-- just a peace and joy that filled the soul to its very depths. A pure and sincere knowledge that neither logic nor emotion had any control over. I don't know how else to explain it...

We went into the side chapel where there were many hugs and congratulations given. I received my baptismal stole/scapular and Katelyn received the baptismal candle. I couldn't stop smiling. I didn't cry, though I thought I would beforehand, but my joy was past tears. It is past tears still. I saw Drew (one of the RCIA coordinators and a sponsor), and the smile on his face was priceless when he saw me. We hugged and shared our joy together... Oh how wonderful the world would be if only the joy that filled that small little room could be seen by the entire world!!

We went back out in front of the church and our sponsors lit our baptismal candles from the Easter Candle. We then prepared for Confirmation. Once more, I was one of the last to be confirmed. Father went down the row twice, the first time placing his hands upon our heads and praying over us. When he did this, I felt strengthened and ready to press forward. He came finally to me, and I said "My name is Kayla Dominic Savio and I wish to be confirmed."

Once again, there was no rush of overwhelming spirit or anything to that sort, though I might have expected it. I have been so used to those sorts of feelings in the past, I feared that they wouldn't come and that I wouldn't have the fullest experience without them. How wrong I was. They didn't come, but I had an even fuller experience without them. I may have "felt" nothing in the way of emotions, but I felt in an even deeper way, and my joy (which I had thought was complete), increased all the more. I knew the Holy Spirit had joined me, a companion for me now, never to leave my side. We turned to face the congregation and I saw my family. My dad was almost in tears, smiling from ear to ear. My mom, well... I smiled at her, she smiled back, but then went back to a scowl. I think she was happy for me, but very tired and slightly annoyed at the length of the Mass thus far.

We went back to our seats and a strange sensation came over me... I turned to Katelyn and whispered, "Hey, I'm Catholic now!" She grinned and whispered back, "Yup. You're in the club now." All the time leading up to that night, I couldn't help but feel that entering the Church was going to be some sort of Climax to my journey, a type of final fulfillment or something to that sort... but when I had gone back to my pew and looked up towards Jesus on the Cross, I realized that everything had just begun. I am a new creation, I have a new life in Christ, and I have oh so much more to journey through. I realized now how extremely feeble and unworthy I am, and how much further I have to go to reach perfection in Christ. I want to be a saint, I want to be holy-- and I have such a long way to go. But I am comforted, because God Himself has provided that way for me, and I now have been given all of the tools to reach this goal... I have made a promise, the same promise that Saint Dominic Savio made before his First Holy Communion, "Death, but not sin." I know that I was foolish to make such a promise, being the sinner I am, but I also knew that I could die to my sin and be cleansed of it through the wonderful Sacrament of Reconciliation.

First Holy Communion. I can only repeat what I have said twice before now... I expected that great emotional high, but I didn't get it. Instead, I received something so much more powerful and infinitely better. I will not put into words my encounter with Christ, this is something that I hold close to my heart and I can not let it go…

My parents met me after Mass. My mom gave me a card and a beautiful golden cross. My dad gave me something I will never, ever forget. He gave me big hug and with tears in his eyes, he said to me, “Sweetie, I am so proud of you.”

It’s always hard to know where to “stop” my conversion story, seeing as my baptism and reception into the Church was only the beginning of a brand new life. But I think it is fitting to conclude here. I will say only this: The Lord has captured my heart and my life has never been the same since.

Conversion Story pt 4

“If anyone comes to me with hating his father and mother… he cannot be my disciple.” Luke 14:26

I knew that at barely the age of seventeen I was going to need parental permission to become Catholic. I had no idea how my parents would react to my decision but I knew I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. I knew what my parents thought of religion. I also knew that there were certain unspoken rules in my house: Talking about God in a positive light was one of them.

I didn’t know what to do. So I wrote my mom a letter. I left it under her pillow before traveling with my dad to Idaho for a regional softball tournament. Probably not most mature decision I made during those years, but I didn’t know what else to do. I tried to be as honest as I could in the letter. I told her of my desire to become Catholic and what led me to it.

I suppose she and my dad talked sometime over the weekend because when I got home I was sat down on the couch to “talk.” There was little talking that went on, at least on my part. A lot of crying though. My mom was hurt that I couldn’t talk to her about this in person. She was hurt that I had been hiding everything from her.

And then came the “you’re too young to make this decision.” The “you’re just being hoodwinked by your friends.” The “this is just your way of rebelling.” And other such reasons that my parents gave, either out loud or otherwise. I was told to wait until I was 18. A full year until I could even start RCIA classes [Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults—the series of classes and rites over a set time, usually about six or seven months, that teach and prepare people for baptism or confirmation].

But that didn’t stop me from attending Mass. I snuck off whenever I could so that I could go. Usually that meant our monthly late-start days during the school year and weekdays during the summer. I could never go on the weekends because I always had softball tournaments and my parents were home.

I absolutely loved going to Mass. But it always killed me when it came time for Holy Communion. I would approach for a blessing, as I had been instructed, with my hands crossed over my chest. Ah! To be so close to Our Lord in the Holy Eucharist, but not be able to receive Him! How my heart longed to receive Him into my soul! Yet, to even be so near to Him was a blessing to me.

It killed me to watch so many others receive Our Lord as though He were some food sample being handed out at the super-market. Did they not know Who they were receiving? That their God humbled Himself to be with them in such a beautiful and intimate way? Yet they stretched out their hands like greedy children for candy. They didn’t care. They didn’t even know… and here I was, so desperate to be united to my God, to make that act of love union, and I was unable to.

Somehow my mom found out I was sneaking off to Mass. I’m not exactly sure how, but moms are moms, and they have their ways. Maybe it was for the better. I always felt guilty lying in order to go to Mass. Seemed to defeat the purpose, right? And it also seemed to fuel her fire against the purity of my reasoning for becoming Catholic.

Time went by and I was quickly approaching my 18^th birthday. It was the beginning of my senior year of high school and was also the time that I was heavy into the recruiting for softball. I was spotted by a coach during the summer at the National tournament in Kentucky. He coached at a small, yet Division 1, Catholic university in Maryland. He contacted me, told me about the school, and asked if I would be interested in coming out to visit.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I looked up the school on the internet. Small, Catholic, liberal arts, and apparently faithful to the Magisterium. I was excited. I looked at the team stats… they were pretty poor. Second to last place in the division, and last place the year before. But I decided to go on the visit.

I fell in love with the Mount the moment I set foot on campus. The Grotto was beautiful. It was perfect. I practiced with the team, had a tour of campus, and enjoyed every minute of it. I met with the coach at the end of my visit and signed for the school. He worked on getting me good scholarship and everything was set by October of my senior year of high school.

October was also special for me, as it was the month that I turned 18… it was consequently the month that RCIA started at my parish.

Somehow I garnered up the courage to tell my parents that I was still planning on becoming Catholic and that I would be attending these classes on Thursday nights. They weren’t happy about it, but they honored the agreement they had made before. I was 18, I could now make that decision for myself even if they disapproved.

My mom made it her prerogative to make it as difficult as possible for me to make it to these classes. One week it was too windy to drive. Another week I had too much homework [“No mom, I don’t have any homework.] Yet another week I had to go to the gym to work out, despite having done that after school. It was ridiculous.

I loved RCIA. I loved learning about the Church [remember, I grew up without any religious background whatsoever, so I was soaking everything up], even the smallest detail. I loved the various rites we went through. I loved it all. Except, perhaps, the dismissals. You see, after the Liturgy of the Word [that is, after the scripture readings and homily], we were dismissed from the community and from the Mass. I both loved and hated these. I loved them because it was a beautiful rite. I hated them because they took me away from what I loved… the Holy Eucharist.

Head Cold

Ughhhh.

I feel like my head is being over-taken by nasty and ominous black clouds. My throat is a whole lot of yuckiness [although not nearly as bad as when I had my tounsils]. And I can feel the cough coming on.

I don't get sick very often and I managed to make it through all of last summer and Fall semester without encountering any form of the bug. I also managed to escape the 24-hr flu that struck my house on Christmas. It started with Konner, my 2 year old nephew when I was watching him, Korey, my five year old nephew, and Kylie-Jo, my 9 month old niece. I was watching them the three days before Christmas while my brother had surgery on his hip. I awoke on Day 2 to Korey and Konner coming into my room, the poor guy with puke all down his pajamas and all in the bed. I cleaned it up, along with four or five other puke messes throughout the next few days [he's not quite old enough to understand the concept of getting to the toilet when he feels it coming].

The flu then progressed to my mom, my brother [they came down and spent Christmas at our house], my dad, and my sister-in-law. Korey, Kylie-Jo, and I were the only ones who didn't get hit.

So I suppose this is just retribution. I just hope it doesn't get any worse and that it's gone by the time I head back to school.

Patience

I've been good and patient throughout this break, which, believe you me, is quite the accomplishment for me! But now I'm beginning to get a little anxious [in the good, excited way]. Now that I have my preliminary "talks" with my parents under my belt... well, there's little that needs to be done before applying.

Actually, I just need to talk to my spiritual director- tell him all about my visit, my conversations with my parents, and what I feel God is asking of me right now. From there... well, it really depends on what he has to say. I highly doubt [as in very highly doubt, considering he was the one who forced me to call the vocations director and then he was the one who encouraged me to visit sooner rather than later] that he'll say not to apply at all. He might say "wait." He might want me to go to the spiritual exercises before applying.

Which, I mean, I would love to go on that retreat. I really would. But it's the same weekend as the huge high school retreat [1,500+ highschoolers in attendance each year] that is hosted by our seminarians on campus. It's a three-day retreat that has awesome speakers, adoration, Eucharistic procession, praise and worship, and is just over-all an awesome experience. The college students usually help as volunteers-- we do security, small group leadership, women's housing, etc.

But this year is even a bit more special... I've been asked to give a short talk at the retreat! They've asked me to give a talk about conversion to Catholicism, since it is focused on the Holy Eucharist. It's a short talk; only about 10-15 minutes. So I won't be able to give my whole conversion story. But I will be able to compose something that includes certain parts of it and hopefully, considering I converted when I was their age, will be of some inspiration to the high schoolers.

And I have already committed to that speaking arrangement. I just wish the two weren't on the same weekend.

But, honestly, I don't feel like I necessarily need the silent retreat in order to know... I know it sounds crazy, and I can hardly believe that I'm actually at a point of being able to say it, but I honestly feel very confident that it is, at the very least, God's will that I apply with this community. This is where I want to be and I think it's where He wants me to be, too. I mean, unless I'm completely misinterpreted everything [which is certainly possible] but...

See, that's the funny thing about discerning God's will, no matter what the circumstances. Even when you feel pretty darn confident about something, there's that little bitty part of you that wonders: What if this isn't where God wants me? What if I'm somehow manipulating what He's been trying to show me and I'm coming up with an answer that's not what He intended? Besides, what I want and what He wants can never really coincide, can they?

Luckily that's why we have Holy Mother Church, spiritual directors, and other guides that help us in our discernment.

And it's really all about trust. And humility. God doesn't want to deceive us. And we're searching earnestly for His will.

But, anyways, my excitement is beginning to over take my patience... I just want to get back to school, talk to Msgr., and go forth from there! Enough waiting, already! [Just kidding!]

I mean to say... God's timing has been wonderful. He really has taken over the wheel for the time being and He's done an excellent job of steering and taking care of things. So, I'm going to keep with that, me thinks.

But I would like to get back to the Mount here shortly. :-) Good thing classes start in less than a week. And I leave on Saturday.

Failure

I really just need to get back to school so I can get back onto a consistent schedule. For whatever reason, I don't sleep well at home. So I finally fall asleep around 2 or 3am, which means that I rarely wake up in time for Mass at 8:30am.

Thus this morning equals failure on my first goal.

I'm heading off to my church to make a holy hour now, so at least I'll be able to have achieved goal number two.

The honors thesis writing is coming along very slowly. I've written about two and half pages, single-spaced. When I get back from the holy hour I'm hoping to finish the section on St. Bernard's philosophical and theological anthropology (which is essentially his doctrine of grace and free choice). That should take me up to a good six or so pages, which is about 11 or 12 double-spaced. That'll be a good chunk taken care of.

Writing this thesis at home is proving so very frustrating, though. I don't have many sources with me (I have seven, out of fifteen important ones) because the stupid school library made me turn in my books before break. Apparently they don't let people check books out over breaks. Very lame. So I'm stuck with only half of my sources and a rough draft due by Friday. Oh the joy.

Well, no point in complaining too much. As Mancini (old band director) used to say, "Do the best with what you've got."

So, I'm off to the adoration chapel and then back, hopefully nice and refreshed, to tackle grace and free choice and all that fun stuff!

Goals for the Week

Since I've suddenly arrived at the final week of my Christmas vacation, it's time to get down to business. Albeit this business ought to have been business for the entirety of break... well, better late than never, right?

So. Goals for the next five days.

1) Up by 7:45am in order to make it to 8:30am Mass each day.

2) Holy hour after Mass.

3) Major work on my honors thesis. Five pages per day should get me to 25 by the end of the week. A fair sized rough draft to send to my thesis advisor before heading back to school.

Other events that are going to take place throughout the course of the week:

*Half-day "day" of reflection with a friend at the Grotto. I hadn't planned on this, but after a good chat with her over dinner tonight, it's become apparent that it's a good idea. Good for me, but especially needed for her. One of those Holy Spirit inspired decisions.

*Attending my parish's RCIA class on Thursday night. The director asked if I would be willing to give a short witness to the group. It'll be nice to go... I teach RCIA at my school and I've taken a lot from my own experience of RCIA in how I run it at school.

*Hopefully see one of my close guy friends from high school on Friday night. Haven't seen him in ages. Perhaps we'll go get coffee or something like that.

I leave on Saturday morning, back to the Mount on Sunday, and my last semester of classes start on Monday. Good stuff.

Romans 8:28

And now for an interruption from my conversion story (yes, believe it or not, there is more) for a further commentary on parents and vocations.

My mom took today off so that we could have a good half a day to spend with each other before I go back to school. (Only half of a day since my brother and his family came down around 3:30pm.) Somehow I knew that today would be the day that she and I would have "the talk." So, last night I entrusted the conversation to Our Blessed Mother and begged Our Lord for patience with me.

We went out to lunch at Red Robbin's. I wasn't really hungry, but somehow I knew that this would be the setting in which we'd talk. I think it was more that I lost my appetite with nerves than not being hungry in the first place. Regardless. We went.

I was inwardly praying to the Holy Spirit the entire time. Then it came... the opportunity to say something. My mom asked, "So, what are you thinking for after graduation?"

"Oh, well, I'm not sure yet... I'm thinking about a few different things. A job, maybe grad school but probably not... mission work..."

^That of course was the place that I was also supposed to add something about maybe-perhaps-possibly thinking about religious life. But I went silent, losing my courage to say anything at all.

Conversation went on for a little while. Somehow we got to talking about the priesthood. She said something about how it's unfair they can't be married or have a family (yadda yadda). And I commented that there was something beautiful about that sacrifice that allows them to be even better pastors and really, spiritual fathers. That they are able to dedicate their entire life to the spiritual well-being to their flock.

"Is that something you're thinking about doing, then?"

"Well, yeah, I'm definitely thinking about it."

"I knew it!" she said.

I could of chuckled nervously. My heart was beating a million miles an hour. "Yeah. Yeah, I knew you knew..."

I don't really remember the rest of the conversation. I know she said something about grandkids. Having a family. Why someone couldn't do the "same things" and still have a family. And some comment about student loans. Needless to say it was a much different conversation than the one I had with my dad. And I was very glad when the topic changed.

I don't know why it is, but whenever I have the opportunity to explain any part of the Faith to my mom, I always fail with words. My mind goes utterly blank. Despite the fact that to pretty much any one else I could describe the beauties of a religious vocation, with my mom, I can barely stammer out a coherent word. I suppose it all relates back to my first experience ever talking about Faith with her. It just wasn't a good experience.

Well. At any rate. Now both of my parents know about my discernment, at least in the abstract. And both of them are supportive, to one extent or another. My dad was much more encouraging in his support. My mom didn't say anything that was supportive, but in her backwords way she expressed it by not completely disapproving. It's going to be harder for her in the long run. But I know that both of my parents love me and only want me to be happy.

It seems so strange to me. Having actually spoken to them and saying out loud what I never thought I could say... It's very liberating.

And also very terrifying. What is there now to stand between me and my vocation? What obstacles pose difficulties in pursuing my vocation?

Nothing. There's nothing that stands between me and that "next step." In way that has yet to be, everything has become "real."

How can I describe my emotions right now? I would say that I'm terrified... it would seem to be the appropriate response. But honestly, I'm not. I wouldn't say that I'm indifferent, but I don't have any "outbursts" or emotion or anything like that. I'm excited. A little bit nervous. But mostly just ready.

I was talking to a friend tonight and the perfect metaphor came to me. I feel like I'm floating down the stream of God's will for me. I'm not doing anything of my own power. I just feel as though I've let go and allowed God to take control. I'm floating; everything in the past few months have come to me so smoothly that I feel like, in some ways, they've just happened to me. Like everything was set before me so perfectly that the next step was so very natural. I didn't even really have to think about it. It just happened.

And I think I have finally learned that when things are going like this, I have to be extra careful to keep relaxing and allowing myself to continue floating. I've always had the tendency to suddenly realize I'm in deep waters and begin to tense up and panic. Which of course completely disrupts the flow.

I'm a horrible swimmer in real life, so this analogy helps me a lot.

You know, it's funny to be at this point and to feel so at peace with everything. I never would have imagined everything unfolding the way it is currently. God is so, so good to me. And so patient with me. I can't help but feeling slightly guilty that He does so much of the work. But you know what? Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to let yourself be loved by God. To let Him do the dirty work.

My spiritual director has a favorite verse from Romans that he likes to quote at me fairly often... All things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

Amen!

Conversion Story pt 3

“I believe, Lord help my unbelief!” Mark 9:24

As I slowly backed away from the Mormon Church I found myself wondering where it was that God was leading me. I was still unconvinced, despite the constant attempts by my Catholic friend to persuade me, that Catholicism could be the “true Church.” I began questioning why I was limiting myself to Christian religions. I mean, I only knew that God existed and that He was love. I had just assumed that this meant that the God whom I experienced was the Christian God. That didn’t necessarily have to be the case. But I wasn’t very enthusiastic about looking elsewhere; perhaps another way that the Holy Spirit was guiding me.

One day my Catholic friend invited me to go to Mass with her. It was Pentecost (which, for those who may not know, is considered the birthday of the Church- it marks the night when the Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles in the Upper Room). I was skeptical, but I agreed to go with her. Something interesting happened at that Mass. Nothing spectacular, but enough to catch my attention. The Gospel reading was the exact same as that which I had read just the night before at home. And then Father preached on an issue (I don’t remember what it was) that my Catholic friend and I had debated about for hours the night before. The whole incident did little for me other than make me raise an eyebrow.

A few weeks later I was invited to Mass again, but by a different Catholic friend. This time there was something called “adoration” before Mass. Now, by this time I knew what Catholics believed about the bread and wine. I knew that they believed, based off of John 6, that this bread and wine, by the power of the priest, was changed into the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. Again, it sounded crazy to me… but hey, God could do what He wanted, right? Regardless, I didn’t believe it.

So, we went to adoration before Mass. I knelt down, not entirely sure why I was kneeling. I looked around the church a bit, tried to people watch, but found my gaze being continuously drawn back toward the little host in the funny looking sun thing (which I now know is called a Monstrance). I began to pray, just as I did often times at home. And before I knew what I was doing, I found myself praying the very prayer of a man in Mark’s Gospel who asked Jesus for the healing of his son, “I believe, Lord help my unbelief!”

What shall I say? Once again my experience is an ineffable one. How can I put into words what I experienced? Let it suffice for me to say that I was once more left with an undeniable knowledge that truly, truly that host was the Son of God, Jesus Christ Himself.

I came forth from that period of prayer and the Mass that followed with a sure knowledge: I must become Catholic. If the bread and wine truly became the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, then I had no choice but to become Catholic.

Conversion Story pt 2

“My heart is ready, O God, my heart is ready.” Psalm 108:2

Words fail to convey what happened next. As many times as I’ve tried to explain it out loud (which is few) or tried writing it down (which is many) I can never quite put the right words to the experience.

In a night of despair at my pitiful state, I found myself doing something that I never would have imagined myself doing… Overwhelmed by the bleakness of my world-views, I decided that I would give God one chance and once chance only. I knelt down by the side of my bed, thinking to myself the entire time that I had gone absolutely crazy, that I was speaking to no one but my imagination.

But I desired to believe. I think it was the first time in my life that I was actually open to the possibility that God could exist. It was the first time that I laid aside my pride and was ready to believe, should there be good enough reason to do so.

So I knelt down and I prayed for the first time in my life. I told God that I was ready. I asked Him to reveal Himself to me; I told Him I wanted so badly to believe, but that I couldn’t. I poured out my heart before Him and I asked in all sincerity if He existed.

What happened next is beyond words. Truly ineffable. My body began to shake ever so slightly and I was filled with a joy that I had never before known. I thought my heart would burst out of my chest! In the course of a single moment I knew, without any doubt, that God existed and more, the He loved me! That God was love! Love beyond any love I had ever known!

A few moments later I was sitting on the floor next to my bed, out of breath and shaking uncontrollably. My palms were sweating. All that I could do was cry. So I cried. Out of joy, out of shock, out of sorrow… I don’t know. Probably a mixture of all three.

This experience left me convinced, beyond any measure of doubt, of God’s existence. Despite my skeptical nature (which, trust me, I’m a very skeptical person), I could in no way doubt what happened that night. But it also left me a little bit lost. My whole world was turned around. Everything I had believed was debunked in one night. Where was I supposed to go from there? God seemed to have overlooked that part.

I don’t remember how many days or weeks passed before I confided my experience to one of my Mormon friends. I had already decided beforehand that I needed to find the Church which held the “truth” about God and about Christ. I knew that it could not be any Protestant or non-denominational church, because they did not have any legitimate claim to the truth. They all disagreed about major questions about the faith. Plus, they all had broken off from the Catholic Church and had no direct connection to Christ.

The Mormon Church claimed to possess the fullness of truth and proclaimed a “Great Apostasy,” during which the Holy Spirit had left the Church Jesus established.

I won’t go too much into my exploration into the Mormon Church, except to say that I spent a few months looking into what they believed and why they believed it. I didn’t care that they had “strange” beliefs. In my mind, God existing was itself a weird belief. And besides, God could do whatever He wanted. I just wanted to know what the truth was.

I almost become Mormon. I’m not sure exactly what eventually dissuaded me. Perhaps it was another work of the Holy Spirit, guiding me where He wanted me, despite my wanderings.

Conversion Story pt 1

Upon the request of one of my friends, I have begun to write out my conversion story. As well as sending it to her, I will post it here as well.

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+M

*A note: When people find out that I’m a convert to Catholicism they are often curious as to what led me to the Church- both Catholics and non-Catholics alike. The first question they usually ask is: What did you convert from? When I answer with “atheism,” I think it sparks a lot of curiosity. So they ask me my story. Almost every time this happens I get very nervous and fidgety, not knowing exactly what to say. I usually give some sort of brief response but rarely share my entire story. I’ve just always found it difficult to talk about something that is, by its very nature, so very intimate. But, I’ve been encouraged both by those who have heard my story and spiritual guides who have not that I ought to share and to share often; an opportunity of deepening my own faith and, if God wills it, enriching someone else’s. Therefore what I write here will capture the entirety of God’s gentle (and some times not so gentle) hand working in my life. Take it; read it, if you will, and glean from it whatever the Spirit desires.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you…” Jeremiah 1:5

As a young child I knew absolutely nothing about Jesus, about God, or about religion in general. I grew up in an atheistic/agnostic household where the name of God was never invoked, lest it were to precede a curse word. My very short exposure to anything having to do with God was when I would stay the night at my grandma’s apartment. She had a cabinet full of children’s books out of which I would often pick and read different books. My favorite story was “Daniel and the Lion’s Den” and my second favorite was about the baby Moses, followed by the Little Miss Piggy series.

Of course, at the time I had no idea that my two favorite stories were children versions of different Old Testament stories. In fact, I don’t think I realized the irony of it until long after my conversion. I think I had been reading through the Book of Daniel and came across a more mature version of the story which sparked the memory back to my childhood. I think I laughed for a good ten minutes upon that realization.

As I grew older I became a little bit more aware of the presence and importance of religion to other people. I also imbibed much of my parents’ views and feelings toward religion. I was taught, albeit not directly or even intentionally, that religion was a crutch that weak people used to get through life. That church was a place that people went to be social with one another and to boost their confidence. It was something we clearly didn’t need, because we were strong, we were family. And nothing is stronger than a family sealed by the bonds of love. We would survive the hard times depending on nothing but each other. That’s what it meant to be a “My Last Name.”

I have very few memories of ever thinking about God’s existence as a child. They are all from back in Portland, so I must’ve been under 7. One of my earliest memories is asking God, if He existed, to clean my room for me overnight. Didn’t happen. I also remember lying in bed, closing my eyes, and trying to think what eternity would be like, what life after death would be like. I remember picturing darkness. A never-ending black hole. It gave me shivers. And I think that was the night, if there ever was a specific “time,” that I decided for myself that I didn’t believe in God.

By the time I reached the upper years of middle school, I was an adamant atheist. I had read the book (it’s still one of my favorites) The Sea Wolf by Jack London. There’s a character in the book, the antagonist, who is the perfect atheist. Intelligent, self-educated, and brutal. But he gave words to how I viewed the world in my head. I only now realize exactly Nietszchean he is. But, essentially, his world view consisted that the only meaning to life is to live. To survive. To be powerful, because only the powerful survive. The strong eat the weak and the weak die. There was no ultimate meaning to life. There was no value to life, except to your own. The weak grasp and hold onto anything they can to give their meager, weak lives some sort of meaning. The strong have no use for such things.

Bleak views for a 13-year old, but they were mine. I adopted them, developed them, and believed in them full-heartedly. Not that I enjoyed the fact they were true. Not at all. In fact, I deplored the fact that this was the state of reality. But, truth is truth and I wasn’t going to adopt some religious views just to satisfy my unsatisfaction with the way things were.

Despite these views, I was, for the most part, a good kid. I experimented with some not-so-good behaviors at one point or another. We, my friends and I, would steal wallets and other such smaller goods from stores. We messed around with smoking a little bit. I used to steal pot from my older brother and sell it to my friend’s brother, who was a drug dealer. But most of that didn’t last very long. I never felt guilty, per se, but I never really enjoyed doing that kind of stuff either.

Luckily my friend group shifted a bit when I entered high school. I was a part of the high school band (played the trumpet) and eventually my social life revolved around it. Most of the kids in the band were all those goodie-goodie types. Strangely enough, almost all were Christian, too. Of course, I didn’t believe what they did. But since they didn’t engage in “sinful” behavior, neither did I.

My world-view at this time did not change at the influence of my friends. On the contrary, I grew even more convicted that, essentially, “might was right.” My observances of my Christian friends did not lend to a positive light. What I mean by this is that their faith, it seemed to me at least, was only surface level. They didn’t know what they believed. To me, they were brainwashed. They hardly knew why they believed what they believed. They simply followed what they had been taught all their life. They hadn’t actually thought deeply at all about their faith.

So, I challenged them. I argued with them. I attempted to ruin what little faith that they had. And frankly, I won most of the arguments. Yet, for some reason, these friends of mine did not yield or give up on their faith. Each day they would come back and try again. Their perseverance astonished me. Their peace, especially, astonished me. Sure, they would get frustrated at times. But each day they would be back. United with one another (which was quite a feat itself, considering the three friends of whom I speak consisted of two Mormons and a Catholic).

About a year went by of this back and forth arguing. I did not yield. I couldn’t. But as time went by, I did begin to envy my friends. Not because I thought they were right, that they possessed the truth. On the contrary, I envied their ignorance. I envied their peace of mind that came with being so brainwashed that they could not see the truth of the state of the world. Frankly, my atheistic world-view depressed me. I mean really made me depressed. I think my freshman and sophomore year of high school were two of the most depressing of my life. I was not happy. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I ever contemplated suicide, but I certainly wasn’t in a good state to say the least.

Shortly thereafter a desire grew in me to believe in God. A sidewise desire wishing that I too had been born into a Christian household so that I could be free from the terrible truth I knew. This desire was killing me. I wished so badly for it to be true that God existed. But my intellect could not consent. There was nothing in any arguments that I read that could convince me. God was dead and I was left to face that bitter truth alone.