I'm soaking my mind in these thoughts

This week has been a montage of time with family, friends, and good reads.

 From the gifts of these conversations and epic trilogy The Lord of the Rings is emerging a morsel of truth. The truth that God is whispering is both assuring and sobering. Here it is: life is hard, but it is totally worth it and full of help. There will be moments, days, years even that seem impossible but help from God, friends, and family is abundant. Frodo is a prime example of this - he is responsible for a task that would crush him on his own. He must rely on the help of his motley crew... or at least the faithful companionship of Samwise to carry on with this seemingly impossible feat. We all have our own ring to carry. Something that seems impossible and, in fact, might be if we try and go it alone.

Here are the thoughts that  keep me going on my own perilous journey:

• Finding order in life is like riding a unicycle- you constantly have to be moving and readjusting ...this paraphrased comment came from Curtis Martin by way of a great chat with Hilary. An apt comment when thinking of the challenges that await us in life. Never is  there a dull moment and never is there a moment when autopilot is an option. Like riding a unicycle you constantly have to be assessing the situation and making little adjustments. 
• "Have patience. Go where you must go, and hope!" In this episode of LOTR Gandalf is charing the dwarf and elf to continue being faithful to their journey. He is not merely ushering them on, but challenging them to see the possibilities that lie in the future... possibilities that are full of hope, not dispair.  
• "Be very small and very loving" ...this was advice from Father Dave Nix and I just can't stop thinking about it. How true!! If you are very small and very loving you can also be very patient, very maleable, very humble... and not take yourself too seriously. 

I feel like Christmas continues to be a big hug from God. A quiet God. A simple God. A humble God. A God so humble as to make Himself a tiny child. This God is willing to become so small to show His love is asking me - tiny me - to become big in order to be His hands and feet on this earth. His request requires thoughts like these about order, hope, and being loving to go where I must go. Bear my own ring. And to hope. 

All Grown Up

I was never too engaged when watching stand-up comedy. Not until Mr. Jerry Seinfeld put his finger on something that I was never able to quite articulate. In a moment of genius he painted an image of the difference between being a kid and being a grown up. Jerry pinned the tail on my childhood donkey.

Kids don't want other kids to wait, they must "wait up" Would you "wait up" When you're little life is up, you're growing up, everything's is up. Wait up! Hold up, shut up. Mom, I'll clean up, hold up, let me stay up... For parents of course it's just the opposite… Just calm down. Slow down. Come down here. Sit down. You are grounded. Put that down. Keep it down in there.

Mr. Seinfeld, hats off to you! I couldn't have said it better myself! When you are little life IS up!! But now that you're an adult, was that "up" you imagined so long ago everything it was cracked up to be?? I’ve asked myself the very same thing.

Let me paint you a picture of what I was like as a little tyke:
When I was a child I absolutely could NOT sit still. I would spend hours at my aunt and uncle's house with my cousins who were years older than me. They could be as still as the couch they were sitting on when watching movies or TV. They would play with their Barbies quietly for hours upon hours. I, in contrast, would struggle to sit still for even one minute- even while watching my favorite movies I couldn't quite enjoy myself until I jumped up and down on one leg and then zoomed around the room a few times. Sitting still was beyond my tiny body's capabilities. My cousins were so prim and proper and I was...well...not.... I wanted to sit still like my cousins. I wanted to be well behaved. I wanted to be grown up, but I didn't have it in me.

It was tough being so hyper. Being so little. Being everything but grown up. Even the triumphs were minimal. I remember the first time I could wash my hands in the sink without a step stool. That was a magical day and it may have been my first taste of real progress toward actually “growing up” but I knew I wasn’t actually grown up… maybe on my way, but not a grown up yet.

Years after I could wash my hands in the sink without a stool I began attending school. I did ok, but I had a disadvantage... I was never wired to function as a student. My frenzied fleeting and flighty mind never quite comprehended the concept of what it meant to use a notebook correctly. You may be wondering, what do you mean use a notebook correctly? Is it even possible to mess up using a notebook?? Well, my friends, I managed to find a way to use a notebook incorrectly... I didn't catch on until 3rd grade that when writing in a notebook you begin at the first page and write in each subsequently until you reach the end of the notebook. Nope. Not me. I just flipped around, wherever I felt like it and used whatever page I wanted. It never occurred to me to go in order. My mind didn’t work like that. It all seemed so hard, so difficult, like everything would be easier if I were just grown up!!!

As the days rolled on and I did begin to grow up I entered that magical land called Middle School. An enchanted place of braces and body odor, high-water pants, and a deep seeded fear of all social encounters. By the time I found myself emerged in that cesspool of awkward I was beginning to think that growing up wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I mean, if growing up really meant experiencing the excruciating emotions of anger, sadness, irritation and irrational happiness all within the course of 4 minutes was I actually interested?? Or to have my teeth laden with wires and brackets which harbored a whole host of food particles in any given day- is that what it meant to "grow up." I'm not trying to scare those of you with children, I'm just saying that middle school can be quite the unpleasant experience. Grow up, grow up, grow up, I kept thinking as a child, but this growing up thing wasn't exactly panning out.

Middle school did pass (thank goodness) and it was off to high school. I’ll spare you the stories of how I tried to be more grown up than actually I was … “Hosting parties” when friends’ parents were out of town was one way I attempted to be more grown up but that story is for another speech. But I will say that high school was a turning point. It was then that I tasted the sweet reward of my very first real job and received my very first real paycheck. The restaurant where I was hosting and bussing tables issued a first check to me and for the first time in my life – well besides the hand watching experience without a stool- I actually felt grown up!! I had money in the bank that I earned and it wasn’t just for chasing around little people. A real adult hired me and thought I did a good enough job to give me money in return! It felt like a truly grown up moment!! In retrospect I know that I didn’t just feel like I grew up I DID grow up!! I realized that being grown up wasn’t merely handed to you… you have to earn it. That’s what it means to grow up! As I said before high school was a turning point… because not only did I smell the sweet aroma of grown-up-ness… It was in high school that I also came upon the more unpleasant odor of toil and responsibility. School became more difficult. The pressures of impending college seemed to loom. I began to experience the joys of having money… and the sorrows of spending it all…

High school passed, college too. I rode out the moments of stress. I rode out the unpleasant times of failing a class or getting a speeding ticket. Bit by bit I built an arsenal of grown up skills. I learned to cook. I learned to clean up after myself. I learned to live with complete strangers. I gathered treasures on the way. Bits of wisdom here… pieces of advice there. And now, well, I am grown up. I’m an adult. I don’t know how it happened or when, but I think it had something to do with choosing to grow up. Taking those tiny steps toward “grown-up-hood” earning the grown up gold stars like buying groceries, paying bills…being responsible, mowing the lawn, getting toothpaste or toilet paper before they run out. I can say now after years of wishing I could grow up I have… and I love it! It’s better than I would have even imagined as a little girl who wanted it so badly. I can even sit still and use a notebook!

Uncle Bud Visits Denver

A mystery about my life may has been solved tonight. Or at least I might be a little closer to knowing why my Catholic faith is such a big part of my life.

My parents took my family to Mass fairly regularly when I was a child. We didn't talk much about it, but we did make it a priority. No one else in my extended family went to church every Sunday, so I know my parents' presence at Mass was a sacrifice. However, when I was 10 and asked if I could start receiving Communion we discovered I had never been baptized. After months of RCIA classes I became Catholic. I was 11 years old with one practicing Catholic family member (my dad.) Time went on and I slowly lost interest in Catholicism and became intrigued by the faith of my Protestant friends. I planned to leave the Church after graduating high school, but after my only Catholic friend passed away and I encountered the Lord truly present in the Church, I decided to stay. God confirmed my decision by crossing my path with FOCUS missionaries and giving me the friends I needed to build up my understanding and love of the Lord.

It is clear that that chain of events brought me back to my Catholic roots in a beautiful way but, the mystery still remained. Why was I Catholic in the first place? My housemate Katherine asked me recently if there was a strong figure in my life who had been praying or fasting for me and I really couldn't think of anyone. I knew my great Grandma Genevieve was Catholic and feisty to boot, so it wouldn't have surprised me if she pleaded with God to grant me a love of Him and His Church, but I didn't have enough information to say that for sure. No one else came to mind so I began to wonder if a neighbor or the parents of my future spouse had prayed for me or something.

There were no leads until this very night.

Today around noon my dad called to let me know that my great uncle Bud was in town tonight only and that he would be having dinner at my cousin Faunia's at 6. I was invited, of course, and knew that I should do everything in my power to be there. My, I am certainly glad I made it.

For four hours I sat across the table from a 79 year old man who was the spitting image of my grandma June. He had the same large nose with a rounded tip. The same crinkly, smiley eyes. Even the same whispey, white hair. He told numerous stories about life, our family, and his faith. He talked of politics, music, and books. His disposition was remarkable. I knew he was tired, but he maintained a cool composure, even as the night wore on. He never missed an opportunity to compliment anyone and he took genuine interest in everyone who was speaking.

During a small lull in conversation someone started speaking of my dad's father, Larry. Larry and his brother Ron, married two Haney sisters- June and Nona. The Haneys were an anti Catholic family so when June and Nona married Larry and Ron and became Catholic, you can imagine the uproar. For a time June and Nona's mother wouldn't speak to them and they were completely disowned from their Protestant-Irish family. I believed that Bud was still in the same boat, but I was wrong.

The quality about Bud that permeates the whole of him is his faith in God. You can tell that he is hard working, knowledgeable, and raised a good family, but all of those things take a back seat when compared to his faith. He plays the 12 string, sings, and leads retreats at his parish. He writes songs for our Lord and loves to invite other people to Him. I believe he knows what it means to be Catholic.

I had no idea that Uncle Bud was a faithful Catholic, but what he said about my Great Grandpa Chuck baffled me even further. Great Grandpa Chuck, my Great Grandma Genevieve's husband, hadn't come up in conversation until the very end of the night. We had discussed every other family member, living and dead, but somehow Grandpa Chuck didn't make the list. I mistakenly said his name when trying to talk about Grandpa Larry and the first words out of Uncle Bud's mouth were, "Now. your Grandpa Chuck, he was a real Catholic." He went on to say that while Great Grandpa Chuck was not a man who spoke often of his faith, he lived it in every last detail. When he was convicted by something or Scripture revealed something to him he acted. I felt as though the final twist had been made an the rubix cube now aligned.

My Grandpa Chuck and I only had a few months together on this planet. I was on my way in and he was on his way out. My mom only knew him for a year or two, but she tells stories of him, an old cowboy, sitting in his hospital bed and weeping during his final days. She says they weren't tears of sadness, rather tears of joy. Not everyone has such sweet memories of Grandpa, though. Chuck Loser grew up on a ranch and loved to ride horses. As a young family man, necessity drove him into the construction business and he was hard working and driven the remainder of his life. He had a hot temper and jealous spirit, but his last years revealed the kindness that he had possessed all along. The only documentation of Grandpa Chuck and I meeting are a couple of pictures of me and him with our oxygen tubes on. I was a delicate newborn and he was weathered and tattered by time and the elements.

I imagine during those few exchanges between my Great Grandpa and me, my truly Catholic, Great Grandpa, I was given the opportunity to touch his heart. There he was at the end of his life, encountering the beginning of mine. While he held me, perhaps he was also wrapping me in Mary's mantle and asking her to take care of me.

Whoever it is who prayed for me I am grateful to God for continuing to bless me through the mystical body of Christ. In His goodness he has chosen members of my own family to draw me into His.

Thinking light

I don't know that I learned anything today or read much worth while. Sorry to say, there's not much to synthesize.

At Mass Father Nathanial talked about three kinds of power according to Pascal. He said there is political power, the power of knowledge, and charity. I think Pascal's distinction will be helpful in assessing my own motivations and methods for doing things. Obvi charity is the best, but it is easy to fall into being motivated by knowledge or politics/money.


After Mass we had a lovely morning here at the 2241 dream house. My roommates and Justin (Jen's bf) had breakfast. It was what a Sunday should be. Kim later came over to work on her quilt. Then my cousin and her friend picked Kim and I up and we went to the Bronco's game. De-light-ful!! We had our faces painted, enjoyed food and libations, and my uncle generously sponsored the whole ordeal. Clearly he was motivated by charity. It was a great time!!


A Sunday this great can only be followed by an equally great Monday. Here's hoping!

now for a miracle

it was a long day.

really long.

i felt completely warn out by a deep conversation with a friend of mine who is really struggling with her boyfriend. it's so hard to see someone going through something like that and not just jump out in front of her hand raised high and scream at the top of your lungs "WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? Don't you know you are worth so much more?" ...but alas, such remarks are not often well received and in the name of charity we must be respectful of the free-will of others. My heart breaks at the thought of how he treats her and the way he struggles to actually love. It is absolutely devastating to her fragile, young heart. It breaks her apart from him and from all of us who adore her.

then there was the coffee date with another friend who is feeling not-so-hot about his recent decision to join the Catholic church- WHEW!- that's heavy. his examination of all of us Catholics who are really not living out our faith, no less existing in the freedom that's available to those set free by Christ is causing him to reconsider joining us. and in reality, why would he if that's all he saw- a bunch of judgmental, self-righteous people? i surely wouldn't want any part of that. and even if i did it seems that it would be pretty difficult to get an in.

and then i went to K-Mart. it smells awful.

...now for the miracle. None of that really matters (i mean it kind of matters, but...)

When we consider that the victory has been won and that we have infinitely more than all we could ask or imagine all at our fingertips the challenges and worries become minuscule. and it is possible. we CAN live there! with a little trust, a little faith, a little hope we CAN move those mountains, right into the sea! we can unite in suffering with those around us who are suffering, but only because we have been given the gift of uniting in suffering with the One who's sacrifice triumphed over all of it. Because of Him we can be in perfect communion now and in eternity.

and one last thing: my family is all in town for my cousin's wedding and i just spent the evening with them. despite my ridiculously long day and all of the grave matters that seemed to be arriving at my doorstep i got to spend hours with the people who have known me from day one (when i dressed up like a jelly bean for Halloween). for those few hours i knew exactly who i was and exactly where i fit in. and that's just a foretaste of the community that will come in eternity. dang, He really does love us- it IS a miracle.