10 Months: June: Recap

So! Today is June 30th. Obviously. Month 1 of 10 completed. Wow. I can't believe it. It's really gone by fast. How time flies! While today ends the month of focus on purity, the yearning for a continually pure heart and soul will not. Tomorrow begins the focus on humility, and among other things, will include the addition of the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin. A HUGE thank you and shout out to "Mrs. Sally" for giving me her very own copy of it so that I could grow closer to Our Mother and to Christ. It really meant so much to me, and I will never forget her kindness and support. ♥

Now! Recap!

I think I've definitely learned A LOT. Basically, here's a list:

• a deeper realization that God loves us
• Our Mother cares for us, too. She is Our Mother, after all! 
• Purity is not just of the body, but also the heart, soul, mind, and mouth. 
• the Brown Scapular is amazing 
• a deeper love for God and for Our Mother
• the book of Tobit is fantastic
• God speaks in many ways
• listening helps 
• Trust God. He's got this. 

Have I become a better person? I'll let those people around me (and God!) be the ultimate judges of that, but I think I have. I look at who I was in May, and I look at who I am now, and it's mind bottling. Have I really changed that much? I cannot wait to see who I am in April!

As I said, tomorrow begins my focus on humility. Which will definitely be interesting, because my 16th birthday is in July! It will also begin the untimely arrival of my decision to decide to start waking up at 9am in order to start getting back in gear for school, which reminds me, I have summer reading to complete. Yikes!

A tremendous thank you to everyone reading, supporting, and teaching me. I couldn't do it without you all. :)

Fathomable Perfection

To some Catholic girlfriends, I recently posed the question: "Other than the obvious places like the Eucharist, Mass, and Adoration, where do you feel closest to God?" I figured we'd get a few of the same answers, but mostly various places/things, because we are all different. I was wrong. It was reversed. Almost everyone mentioned at some point:

1.) The sky. Specifically the night sky; especially when there are lots of stars out.
2.) Mountains, forests, lake-sides, beaches, basically nature. Specifically alone.
3.) Witnessing something truly beautiful, particularly new/young life.

Excluding Mass, Adoration, Confession, and the partaking of the Holy Eucharist, I feel closest to Christ underneath the night sky. You look up and it goes on forever. Forget the streetlights and the highway and that random guy walking down the street. Forget your house and the sink full of dishes. You just look up and you feel like you could fall into it. It looks welcoming and soft. You know when you were little and you and you'd run up to your dad and he'd kneel down and you'd hug? You're head would be in his chest, you could feel his heartbeat, his arms wrapped gently all the way around you, you felt safe. The sky looks like that feels, if that makes sense. It looks so close you could touch it if it stares long enough. Perhaps to some of us, the sky is a glimpse of what a hug from Our Father feels like.

The closest second for me is the witnessing of new/young life. I love children. The older I get (not that I'm an adult or anything, because we all know I'm still a child) the more I see what miracles they are. The more I see how beautiful and how precious they are, especially at Baptism. In that moment they are free from any trace of original or actual sin. In that moment, their soul is the purest shade of white that could be humanly possible, next to our souls after exiting Confession. They are so innocent. They rely completely on their parents/guardians to care for them. They can't survive alone. They know no evil. They understand no wrong. How God must be so proud of them. They are His sons and daughters, after all! How can I help but feel close to God when I am near His children, and my brothers and sisters in Him?


Then we have nature. It's beautiful. No cars, no lights, no airplanes or ambulances or phones or computers or people. It's a place of peace. You can hear life growing and continuing. You have everything you need, right there. No wonder hermits like St. Hyacinth and St. Augustine (I think...?) and St. Anthony and St. Charbel loved being out there alone. There was nothing to distract them from Our Father! No cussing or perverted talking or bullying or suicide or rape or abuse. Sure nature has it's own dangers, but you learn how to deal with those, right? It's easier to tame wolves than to quiet gossiping girls. 


Now the question, why do you think these opinions were so similar?

Did you notice that all of these situations were untainted? They were perfection. They were immaculate. There is no natural flaw in the night sky. There is no flaw to nature. There is no flaw in the soul of a new life. God is perfect, is He not? Can we fathom His perfection? No. So, isn't it natural that we would feel closest to Him in a place where there was a perfection we can fathom? Think about it. Where do you feel closest to Him?

Spiders in the Soul

I sleep on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed. I despise the top bunk.

The underside of my sister's bed (she's on the top bunk because she despises the bottom bunk) has this paper-mesh-thread-cover thingie the goes across it to cover the wood stuff of the underside of her bed. Which is above my face. This cover thingie is ripped to shreds, but still hanging there. I sewed it up a couple of years ago, which was no easy feat, I promise you, and it's all coming apart again. So now I pose the question, to sew or not to sew?

I can sew it up again and hope it holds for another few years until I depart to go live on some college campus somewhere or I can just rip it down. The latter seems like the much easier option, so what's stopping me?

Spiders.

I'm not kidding. I don't do spiders inside the house. Outside I can deal with them, that's their area after all. But inside? Yeah--no. Inside is mine. Well, ours, since there are seven people living here. What if there's some old spider web under the cover? Or a spider waiting to fall on my face? Or a poisonous spider, like a brown widow or something? Or one of those HUGE black house spiders that are all creepy and scamper around? Or one of those jumping spiders with the furry legs? Or the american-non-venomous version of the banana spider?

None of those sound like good options to me!

I suppose I can relate this struggle to my spiritual life. These ten months are/will be a time for pulling back the cover and seeing what's underneath. Can I handle what's underneath? Theoretically, yes. Do I want to see what's underneath? Well....that's debatable.

I could pull back the cover on my bed and have a spider waiting to eat me. Or fifty bucks could fall out. That seems unlikely, but with my family, you never know. Okay, except the fifty bucks. That's pretty much impossible. But I could find a quarter!

I could pull back the cover to my soul--what's really there. I could find something good. Or I could find something bad. Fear is keeping me from revealing the truth I know is going to have to be revealed. What am I afraid of?

I suppose I'm afraid of finding out that I'm actually a really cruel person. I don't think I'm cruel. But what about selfish? I know I'm already selfish to a degree, but what if I find out that I'm just drenched in it?

Well, I guess I'll feel pretty bad. But something's got to be done about it, I suppose. The spider can't sit underneath the cover forever. It needs to be found and removed. Or if it's a quarter, it needs to be put to good use. Spiders must be removed. Quarters must be put into piggy banks.

I suppose that cover's going to have to be dealt with eventually. Might as well get it over with. And if there is a spider? Well, spiders eat bugs don't they?

Just In Need of Reassurance Here...

Fear. All of us fear something. 

I fear getting a paper cut on my tongue when I lick an envelope. 

I fear leaving my school bathroom without knowing there's toilet paper (or some other female item) stuck to me somewhere. 

I fear going to the bathroom in the dark. 

I fear getting a surprise pick up from school because something might be terribly wrong. 

I fear what others think of me. 

I fear that everything I know might be wrong. 

I fear that everything I'm learning is wrong. 

I fear failure. 

The second to last fear is probably the most prominent right now. These 10 months is definitely a learning journey above perhaps everything else. I'm learning to love God more through Mary. I'm learning to trust, to obey, to be humble, to be pure, to be wise, to be kind, to be patient--the list goes on. I'm only 4 weeks in, already I feel I'm learning. 

Even with this being month one and my first virtue of purity, I feel like I love God ten times more than I did in May. I've pushed the boys, among other things involving purity, to the sidelines. I said that during these 10 months I would not date nor would I let a boy hold me away from God. That was a tough choice because when I turn sixteen next month I'll be allowed to date; it was also a choice I felt God wanted me to make. 

Without the lads in my line of sight, I see God. Perhaps not physically (but how awesome would that be?!), but metaphorically. I have a clearer image of how much He loves me and how much I mean to Him, and He to me. I've taken the steps to attaining a Brown Scapular and having it blessed in order to grow closer to Our Mother, as well, along with other Mary-focused things. 

But what if I love God the wrong way? What if I learn to love Mary the wrong way? It's silly to think that we could love someone the wrong way. I'm not talking about a Heathcliff and Catherine love, because that wasn't love at all, in my opinion. I'm not talking about infatuation or a crush. I mean true love. It's a silly doubt to think that we could truly love someone the wrong way, because, well, if it's true love then God is at the center and it's a good thing. 

But what if I get told that I'm wrong about something? What if lots of people tell me I've learned something wrong? Then, I guess I should listen to their advice. That's what they're there for, right? To advise and protect me. And hey, once you get past about three or four people telling you the same thing, you might want to think about what it is they're saying. 

But what if I meet my soul mate or something during this journey and he leaves because I belong to God? Well, I guess he wasn't my soul mate. Or it wasn't time for us to be together. A lass should love God so much that in order for a lad to find her, he must find God. 

I guess this post was less about meaning and more about me getting my thoughts out in the open and reassuring myself in a way I can understand. And also perhaps, asking the like two or three people that actually read these words to be bold in telling me what they think. I want to learn. I want to hear what you have to say, too. 

And I like this picture, so TADA!

--------> 

[source: http://www.fortuneart.net/store/GO_be-not_afraid.htm]

Jesus as the Romantic

When I was little (well, little-er, as Hiccup would say) there was a picture in my bedroom of Jesus surrounded by small children with the golden words "Jesus loves all the little children". It hung there for as long as I can remember--and then when I was seven we moved. The picture was packed away somewhere. It was never hung up again. We moved again a few years later and it somehow wound up in my possession. I neglected to hang it up, and even forgot about it. We moved a third time in 2007. I placed it in my closet behind some Breyer horses and perhaps a jar with loose change and whatever else ended up in front of it. It was left there to peer out from behind horse tails and through glass jars and around pennies and horse ears. Again, I forgot about it.

My sister's 7th birthday was recently. For her birthday, among other things, she received a large picture with the word "princess" on it and other "princessy" things. I was the good big sister who hung it up, and already having a hammer and nails in hand, I hung up another of her pictures. Then I remembered.

Jesus loves all the little children.

I got into my closet, moved the horses and unicorns and general clutter. I dusted it off with my shirt, and then hung it up, too. It's really a beautiful picture, and particularly fitting since I share my room with a seven year old. Let's not forget here that I am a simple teenager; I have a severe case of "romantic addiction" and value love above all other virtues.

In the picture, Jesus is not only surrounded by children, but his arms are outstretched around them. Like He's protecting them. Of course! If you love someone, you protect them, right? You keep them safe. You watch over them.

I think 90% of the female population finds that lads who play earnestly with children are much more romantic and attractive than lads who don't. I find this accurate, as I am one of them. I love children. I mean a lot. And to see a lad playing with them--oh my gosh, what gets more romantic than that? Well, except for maybe a lad taking a girl on a surprise date and he takes her to Mass. That's pretty romantic, too, in my opinion.

Part of Jesus's humanity must have Him as a romantic. Jesus loves all the little children. He loves them. He protects them. He plays with them. Then, Jesus died for us. Not a Romeo death. Not a Brutus death. Not even a Harry Potter death. He didn't die because we were already dead (or in a land of sin). He didn't die because He felt like getting revenge at Satan for tempting Adam and Eve (although that's not why Brutus died). He didn't have to die, but He did.

He died for three reasons:

He loves us.
He wants to protect and save us.
He wants to be with us.

How romantic is that? I mean, seriously. If Romeo had done that, every female in the world would want their own Romeo. If Edward Cullen had done that, every girl would want an Edward (some unfortunate females still do, I hear, even without the self-sacrifice). If Brutus had died for that, he would have been forever known as the Roman who died to save someone else's neck, not because he had a choice of a quick death or a painful death.

But Romeo, Edward, and Brutus didn't do that. Jesus did. But why? Because He loves us, of course. Duh. Some non-romantic person out there is going to say "So?" or some variation. Simple answer. Love conquers everything. Poets, writers, play-writes--they all get it, even if they don't write about it.


Jesus has become, in my humble opinion, the most romantic person since sliced bread. Not that sliced bread is a person or anything, but you get the idea. He loves and He listens and He laughs and He's serious and then He died and then He came back! Romeo didn't do that. 


And He plays with children. Perfection. 


And to strengthen the butterfly effect, I've found the picture that hangs in my room. ♥

[Source: http://differentvoice.150m.com/wv/angels2/jpic5.html]

Ten Months: Week 3

For those of you saying, "It's not the third week of June..", it's okay. Week 1 was only 2 days. I know what I'm doing here.

But time is not the subject of this post: purity is.

As you know, I'm taking 10 months to dedicate myself to Christ through Mary, using her 10 Virtues as a guide. For the first month I chose purity. You can't exactly do something huge like this and not talk about it on your blog (which, by the way, was opened for the purpose of this journey). So, I've been wondering about purity all month. What does purity actually mean? How far does it extend? How do you improve in the areas of this virtue?

These questions might seem like a no-brainer, but are they really? I asked myself the other day, "Amy. How would you describe purity?" and I had one of those "how do you describe the word 'the'?" moments. I thought about it, and then broke it down. Pure. Describe pure.

Clean?
Innocent?
Free of blemish?

Would purity not be the state of being pure? So, if one has a virtue of purity they would be clean, right? Clean and innocent and free of blemish.

I was getting gum off of my brother's carpet today. We're currently cleaning all the carpets in the house, and I was assigned the unfortunate job of getting all that gum my two youngest siblings have left neglected on the floor for, I don't know, about five years. Okay, maybe not that long. But long enough.

It was quite a rough job. Not so much gross as it was annoying. It was on carpet, for crying out loud. You have to get scissors and mess with the carpet and then your fingers hurt and you're on the floor forever and it just goes on and on.

So, there I was on the floor with my scissors and listening to music trying to decide what I wanted to blog about. I knew I wanted something on purity, but I wasn't having any epiphanies. I decided to pray a Rosary. I know. I was so proud of myself, too. It, naturally, came to me in the middle of the third decade. It was pretty much like this:

"Hail Mary, full of grace.
The Lord is with Thee,
Blessed art thou among--I'm purifying my carpet."

I paused a moment. Finished the Hail Mary. Meditated on that quite random thought-intrusion. Thought it was a pretty neat idea, and finished the Rosary.

Now. You know the purity. You know the carpet. Can you see what I'm doing here?

It's time for a Metaphor Meeting!

So. I was cleaning the carpet. I was getting the ugly off of it. When I got one gum spot off, you could barely tell it had been there, except for the imprint which would fade with the scuffling of feet. Eventually, the carpet looked better. Not great, but better. I'd at least gotten the obviously gross stuff up.

For the purpose of this metaphor, the carpet is going to be multiple things. It will represent our soul, our mouth, our body, and our mind. There are some things that obviously make these things just disgusting. Selfishness corrupts the soul. Swearing corrodes the mouth. Immodest clothes disfigure the body. Lust destroys the mind. You can go further into this; these are just some examples.

My mom then came in with the carpet cleaner. She got off all the obvious stains and more. When she dumped out the dirty water it was pitch black. I'm not even kidding. We all saw it. Pitch. Black. The carpet is definitely looking much, much better.

The carpet cleaner (God, salvation, purity. Insert interpretation here) gets the knitty-gritty stuff up. It purifies, so to speak, the carpet. Or our soul, mouth, body, mind, etc.

God purifies us. He uses some kind of metaphorical scissors to help get the disgusting stuff off--if we'll let Him of course, because some of those gum stains were pains in the neck! Then He comes along with His heavenly carpet cleaner and makes us clean. Makes us clean.

He makes us clean. Innocent. He frees us of blemish. He makes us pure. Us Catholics can say this carpet cleaner is like Confession. And like all human beings, we sin. The carpet gets dirty. God must get His awesome carpet cleaner and clean us again.

But you know that wonderful feeling you have fresh out of Confession? The feeling of having no sins beating down on your shoulders. That, I think, must be when you are at the peak of purity. Could I be so bold as to say that in the moments after we leave the Confessional we are as like Christ as we are humanly able to be?

Then we decide what to do after that. We hold the packs of gum and the soda in one hand. We're going to get knocked over and that soda will spill. We're going to want that minty fresh (or fruity, if you like the fruity kind) taste in our mouths so bad. But in the other hand, we hold a powerful weapon: a carpet cleaner free-cleaning coupon. Reusable as many times as necessary, of course.

This was a long post. Sorry about that. I'm not even sure I got the main point across. It all made so much sense in my head; it makes sense to me now, but my brain and your brains are very, very different.

So, purity. Think about it.

[image source: http://vnumc.net/stories/stories_page_03.html]

Narrative of a Kitty

I've always wondered what goes through a cat's mind--especially my cat. My cat, Alice, has two inside-jokish nicknames. "MAlice" and "Psycho Kitty". She can be both quite mean when she wishes (never to me, of course) and psychotic. I mean, I've never seen a cat who will jump onto a desk, miss, bump her head on the underside, and try again and again. Perhaps lots of cats do, and we just have an entire world of "psycho kitties".

But I digress (I love that word, but I pronounced it wrong until just recently). A narrative. Just a simple thing of what I've figured out through behavior, expressions, and the tone of meows may perhaps go through the mind of Alice the Cat.

********************
I lead my human kitten through my house. I want to go outside and perhaps catch her a birdie for breakfast. Poor human kitten; her mind is duller than her sense of smell. Ah, now she sees. I must exaggerate so much sometimes. 


Oh, look a trash pile that the her male human litter-mate left behind. Does she think I'm just going to step on it? Poor human kitten, she just doesn't understand that she must move it. I'll forgive her this time. 


She opens the door. There we go. But why doesn't she escort me outside? I am her mother and queen, after all. But I shall show mercy on her and forgive her dull-witted human mind. 


********************* [later that night]


I jump onto the outrageously large resting place of my human kitten. She's awake, I see. Poor human kitten. Doesn't know how to make a proper bed. 


I've taught her well the arts of caressing the queen, though. She at least understands that a purr is good, and a growl is bad. Ah, she does well. I lick her twice as a reward. Now, commence your caressing, once more, my human kitten! 


Now, this side. Good. Another lick. Well done, human kitten. No, no, no, my human kitten. Don't touch my paws! Good, back to long strokes. Here, I shall grant you another lick to encourage you. 


I shall knead you now and prepare you for sleep. I know my human kitten cannot stay up at night like I can. Poor human species. They miss the joys of the night-time hunt. 


What? Drawing covers over skin? How can I properly prepare you for sleep if I cannot touch you? I know my claws scratch your human skin, but you must, my human kitten! It is the way of the queen and mother cat. 


There. All settled. You have done well, my human kitten. Now it is time for a bath. Sit still while I wash your face. Silly human kitten, wrinkling your nose and closing your eyes. 


Ah, I see my human kitten is going to sleep now. Good human kitten. Perhaps my presence shall stir in you sweet dreams of the hunt and of what a real feline does! 


Perhaps I shall doze while my human kitten goes into her deep sleep. I must take care of my human kitten and raise her right. 


Now, dozing is over. I shall patrol the house. Good night, my human kitten. I await your caressing and grateful servitude in the morning. 


*******************

A Trip To The Dentists

I really despise going to the dentist. I don't mind going to the orthodontist. But the dental office is another place, another story, another chair of nightmares.

Okay maybe not quite that extreme, but you see what I'm getting at. You know the drill.

Step 1: You enter the office, sign in, say hello to the ladies in those shirts that scream "I'm either a children's doctor or a dental worker", sit down and read a magazine or book while you nervously wait for your name.

Step 2: You're taken back to a room with a hygienist and make small talk. They ask teenagers if they're glad to be out of school. They ask parents if they're still sane with their kids home. You answer, you sit in the chair, hygienist continues to make small talk. X-ray, bib, glasses. Now, the horror begins.

Step 3: They continue to make small talk, but with their hands in your mouth, you can't answer so you just count tiles on the ceiling and pretend to listen. If you're lucky enough to have a television in the ceiling, you absently watch that. After five minutes you realize your body is tenser than the Hulk in a china shop. You relax. You repeat this process every five minutes until it's time to go.

Step 4: That sucking contraption they stick in your mouth is the worst. You have to breathe through your nose and keep your tongue out of the way. You can barely breathe because it sucks up the air that comes down your nasal passages, and let's not even get started about having a cold.

Step 5: Hygienist removes bib and glasses. You sit up. They talk for a minute about tooth and gum position, hand you a bag with the toothbrush, and out you go. You're free. Well, almost. You sign out,reluctantly schedule your next appointment, and leave. They remind you not to eat, drink, or rinse for thirty minutes, but you both know that's never going to happen. You just need that disgusting taste of fluoride (and baking soda, if you have braces like me) out of your mouth, off of your teeth, and away from your lips!

Oh, and don't forget to floss.

A God Who Loves

Last night I couldn't sleep. No idea why. I just woke up at 4am, stayed awake until 6am, and dosed until my alarm went off at 7am. Two hours (give or take a little) gives you a lot of thinking time.

As I was laying there, a faint hint of something drifted through the air. It smelled like a mix of soap and flowers. I don't know. I started thinking about how God speaks to people. I remembered the story a friend once told me of how she smelled flowers during Adoration, then heard God's voice speaking to her. He said something along the lines of "These are for you and all of My beautiful daughters. They are far and few in between and such a gift to Me." Although what our Father said to her is beautiful, it stirred thoughts.

I thought about all the times others have had similar experiences. At this year's NET retreat a girl spoke of her "God spoke to me" experience. She described the calm that settled on her. My friend with the pure flowers mentioned something similar. I, too, have experiences like that. It's just a sudden calm and peace. The world fades away. It's just you and God. It's one of the most amazing experiences in the world.

I thought about how outrageously lucky I've been to hear God's voice and be spoken to personally. I thought about how much God loves me. Then a sudden realization came to me.

Our God is a God who LOVES.

Before last night, it was kind of a "duh" kind of epiphany. But really, think about it. God loves others. Well, obviously. God loves us. Naturally. For a long time I've been thinking about how much God loves me after everything I've done and all the mistakes and broken promises I've hurt Him with. I thought "Wow. I'm so lucky He loves me.", and when I heard stories of how others didn't feel that, I immediately thought, "OF COURSE He loves you! How could He not?!" It was a no-brainer for them, and a "Oh my Him. I'm the luckiest girl on the planet." for me.

I was thinking about this last night. I realized how amazing His love is for us. After everything we do, after everything that happens, He LOVES us. Totally. Completely. Irrevocably. Eternally.

I caught a sudden glimpse of how deeply God loves us. Just a glimpse, and even for me, a hopeless romantic, it was unfathomable. A unfathomable glimpse of love. What does the whole picture of His love look like? I think it must be impossible for our human minds to comprehend the beauty of His love.

This all sounds so simple. But think about it. Can you even IMAGINE how much God loves all of us? Not just you--everyone. We're always thinking about how much God loves us individually, and then with everyone else, it's kind of like "Of course He loves you!" Do we ever think about how He individually loves ALL of us? Can you fathom how much love that is?

It's really the ultimate love story. Creation was our prologue. Christ's death was merely the exposition! Okay, maybe some rising action, too. But here we are, still stuck in the middle of this eternal love story. Individual and together.

Our God is a God who loves. That's amazing.

How He Loves-David Crowder Brand
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FxaUYjRtkc

Ten Month Journey: Day 1

Wow. I can't believe it's started. I gave myself the month of May (and part of April!) to prepare, and I still feel like I'm not ready. Wow. But here it is, so here I am!

All this week, I've been extremely excited and minimally terrified. Until yesterday. Yesterday excitement went out the door and terror set in. What if I can't do it? What if I throw everything I learn out the window? What if I fail?

I guess I have to remember that with God, all things are possible (insert referenced verse here). I have to remember that God does not let us face any trial we cannot face and He is right there to back us up (insert referenced verse here). I guess most importantly, I have to remember that if I forget to say a Rosary or I just don't say an Angelus one day, as long as my relationship with Our Mother and God is improving, I'm succeeding. As long as I keep going and remember that God's got my back, I cannot fail. As long as I grow closer to Him and to Our Mother I am succeeding.

It's one thing to say "I have to remember" and type it out, and another to put it into action. But I know I got this. Let's do this thing!