When Prayer Doesn't Come Easily

I have very vivid memories as a kid in junior high having a fulfilling prayer life. I prayed every day without fail. They were simple prayers, but prayers nonetheless. I was never told to pray this way...of course I was encouraged by my family and teachers and priests to pray, but it wasn't like I was forced to do it. I genuinely wanted to. I loved praying. I really felt connected to God, and His presence surrounded me constantly. It really was like what they say in Scripture: I felt a peace that words cannot describe, and I think I can honestly say (without trying to sound arrogant or "holier than thou") that I did love God and desired a relationship with Him above everything else in my life.

This is how my children look every night at prayer time...

Granted, my life was much simpler then. I had only myself to care for, so finding time for contemplative prayer was much easier. We didn't have the internet as a distraction. There were many times that I was BORED (a word that, in our present day, we don't understand anymore because of the never ending choices of distraction and entertainment that technology brings us), so I quite naturally turned to prayer because sometimes there really was nothing else to do.

At the time, I didn't realize what an incredible gift God had given me. I thought everyone felt this way when they prayed. It struck me odd that some people would not pray...why on Earth would you not pray when being close to God is the best feeling in the world?

I entered high school, I became busier, made new friends, and my prayer life wained. I was distracted, as they say, by "the things of this world." I got a pretty awesome boyfriend (who's still pretty awesome if I do say so myself) and thought I had everything.

Then of course, college came, and my prayer life was pretty much non existent. I've written about this before, but I was so into myself that I don't know if it was even possible for me to see past my own nose. I went to Mass every weekend still, but only because that's how I was raised and I knew no other way. I talked to others about God, and about how I was "religious" and "Catholic", even though I really had no idea what I meant by that. But I had awesome friends, and was successful in school, and I thought I had everything.

Which is funny, because I was pretty darned miserable.

And it showed, too. I was not a nice person. (I'm still not sometimes, believe me). But looking back at some of the things I did and the way I treated some people, I still shudder even though I have been to confession about it and I know God has forgiven me. And the funny thing is, throughout high school and college, I was always questioning: "WHY AM I SO UNHAPPY?"

It's interesting how when your prayer life stops, so does your happiness. You think you are happy. Sometimes. There are brief moments of positive emotion that can occur within relationships, activities, and successes. But then that fades and you are left empty. And the funniest thing is, we get angry at God for this...asking him, "Why, God? Why? What else can I do?" even though He has already given us the answer:

If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily, and follow me. (Luke 9:23)

But see, this is the answer we don't want to hear. We don't want to deny ourselves. Or take up our crosses. Crosses are difficult to carry. And inconvenient. So we ignore this message and carry on with our lives the way WE want and continue to wonder why we are miserable.

Thanks be to God, through the intercession of MANY prayers by others I'm sure, and through the influence of my now husband's conversion to the Catholic faith, I finally came to my senses at the end of my college career and realized what a complete jerk I was. It was humbling and humiliating to look at myself how I really was. But only when I did that could I start to change. I started to pray again. I enjoyed praying again. I was peaceful, and happy, and good with life for the first time in many years.

Then, I had my first living child, Elizabeth. And my life as I knew it came to a crashing halt and everything changed. All the sudden, I had another life to be responsible for besides my own. I thought I had gotten past my selfishness, but in hindsight, I was only scratching the surface. This person, this baby girl, was completely dependent on me. And I had no idea what I was doing.

In the frenzy of learning how to properly breastfeed (which never really happened), sleep deprivation, months of pretty serious illnesses my little newborn had to go through, and just learning how to be a parent and survive at the same time, I again forgot about prayer. Who has time for that? I was just trying to keep my head above water. Getting through weekend Mass with a baby who really loved screaming at decibel levels that even our stone wall Cathedral cry room couldn't contain was taxing enough. You want to know what the readings were that day? Hahaha! I can't even tell you what the date is!

Elizabeth, 3 months old, Ash Wednesday. I think she was mad because her ashes were not dark enough.

I realized in the back of my mind that I needed to pray. And REALLY, I had extended periods of time where I was sitting, feeding a baby, which could have easily been devoted to times of prayer. And out of guilt, I started to cave and say my prayers. Sometimes. But all I really wanted to do was just zone out and watch Netflix. Because this parenting thing was exhausting, and prayer was not bringing me the rest I needed. It was just more work.

And that is the key point that I think we all need to realize: prayer is WORK. It is HARD work. Having a consistent prayer life does not come easily or conveniently to most people. And I think, after having had such a fulfilling prayer life in my younger years, I was totally turned off to it when in my busier seasons of life when it didn't bring me that instant comfort and gratification that I used to get. "I'm not getting the results I expected," I would think to myself. "I'm not getting warm and fuzzy feelings. So I must not be doing it right. I guess I'll just stop." I went through periods of this, on and off, for a good while during Elizabeth's first year of life.

Then one day in October when she was 10 months old, I made a decision. I was going to start praying the rosary. I had dappled in the rosary before. I had gone through periods where I would try to pray it every day, and that would last a few weeks, and then the sheer thought of having to sit there for twenty minutes to recite those tedious prayers would become overwhelming and I'd stop for awhile. And then I'd start the cycle again. But...I'm not sure what was different about this time...but this time, I was serious. I made a promise that I would pray the rosary every single day, no matter what. Even when I didn't want to (which was every day). Even when it was inconvenient (which was every day). Even when I'd rather be doing something else (which was definitely every day).

I wonder if St. Dominic had trouble concentrating too?

I will write another post related to my journey specifically with the rosary (to summarize, I have never missed a day since that day in October 2013...and this is not to make myself sound like some saintly person, because I am still not good at praying it). But the point I am trying to make here is this: In my 2+ years of praying a daily rosary, I have never once felt warm and fuzzy, and I have never once "felt" God's overwhelming presence. In fact, most of the time, all I'm thinking is how I'd rather be doing something else. Or what I'm going to eat for breakfast. Or what my plans are for that day. And then I'll realize my mind is wandering, and OOPS! I'll try to focus whatever mystery I might be praying at the moment. Okay, the Scourging at the pillar. Our Father, who art in heaven...and the cycle continues.

The fact that I have a "dry" prayer life used to bother me greatly. In fact, I went through a pretty major faith crisis because of it. I was angry at God for not rewarding me for being faithful to Him. "I'm TRYING here!!! What more do you want!!!! Can't I get SOME reward for doing all this work??"

But I am slowly realizing that, really, positive emotional fulfillment does not always happen with all relationships in life. Our emotions can play tricks on us. Emotions change, God does not. Those warm and fuzzy feelings I was looking for are not an indicator of how much God loves me or if He hears my prayers. I love my family, and I work at a relationship with them. Sometimes that relationship feels more like work, other times it comes easier. The same can be said with prayer. Intellectually, I know God hears my prayers and that He loves me. But everyone feels abandoned by Him from time to time...even Jesus, hanging on the cross, about to die, asking God: "Why have you abandoned me?" If JESUS did not "feel" God's presence, well heck, why would I expect to be above that?

If you are struggling with daily prayer, you are not alone. It is HARD. It is WORK. And it does not always make you feel any different. But it will slowly transform your life in ways you might not have chosen yourself
. Remember, Jesus did not promise us a life of instant gratification. He promised us the opposite: difficulty and hardship. But regardless of what our ever changing emotions tell us, we can always know one thing for certain: prayer is ALWAYS a good thing. It WILL change us for the better. And God, even when we do not feel Him, will never abandon us.

Check out this video on spiritual dryness from Fr. Robert Barron. It really shed some light for me on how God is trying to teach us to fall in love with Him, not the emotion of falling in love with him.

What I Want To Teach My Children: You Are Not Special

You see it everywhere these days. Children's books...TV shows...movies...commercials...internet ads...facebook...

YOU ARE UNIQUE! YOU ARE DIFFERENT! YOU ARE SPECIAL!

Now let me clarify here before you go calling DCFS on me and label me as a terrible parent. I love my children more than anyone, and to me, they are the most special and unique children in the world. But. The key word there is: TO ME.

The rest of the world? Sure, they might think my kids are great. Or even MORE than great. Or perhaps, when Elizabeth is in the grocery store screaming at a decibel level known only to jet engine workers, people might think my kids are less than great. And I understand that. When you have your own kid, EVERYTHING she does is amazing. I think it's just imprinted in our genes to behave this way. "Oh my gosh...LOOK at the way her toe moves when she crawls!! Isn't that the most adorable thing you've ever seen??" And everyone else is slowly nodding their heads, nervously smiling, wondering to themselves when that parent might have reached this level of crazy, and promising themselves that if THEY ever have children, gosh darnit, they will never act this way.

This need to be special has pervaded our culture in a way it has never been before. I believe it is largely due to social media, a place in which we are bombarded with the extraordinary events of people's lives which leaves us to believe our own lives are less than stellar. (By the way...I think social media is great. But this is one negative effect of it).

People who are in my generation and older remember a time without social media. IN MY DAY, we had to use a TELEPHONE to CALL people if we wanted to talk!! None of this typing, texting nonsense! **Clears throat** Sorry...ahem. Anyway, my children will never have this experience. Even though I will probably be a stricter parent than most and not allow them to have a Facebook (if it still exists in 10 years) or a cell phone with texting and internet (if those even do exist at all), they will still be surrounded by this culture. This culture, which magnifies our lives to be something spectacular and exciting all the time, desensitizes us to what the word "awesome" really means.

I want my kids to realize that there is beauty in the ordinary. That they do not have to grow up to be a brain surgeon or a doctor or a world famous sports athlete in order to be happy. That we should have enormous respect for all professions, from the garbage man all the way to President. I want them to know they are no different from everyone else, because we all have a soul that was created by God Himself.

Even the most menial tasks we do can have great value. As Blessed Teresa of Calcutta said, we must do "small things with great love." Every time I change a diaper or fold a shirt or clean up a mess, I keep this in mind. That all the small, ordinary things I do every day are meaningful.

We can especially see this during the Christmas season. Mary and Joseph were regular, ordinary people. They rode to Bethlehem on a donkey. Jesus was born in a tiny, meager stable. None of these circumstances in which the Savior of the world came into being were special. And yet, they were what God chose for His only Son.

So if my kids are never blue ribbon winners, or valedictorians, or competition winners, that's okay. If they are, then great. But as long as they are trying their hardest, I hope they realize that aspiring to be ordinary is wonderful. Because really, that's what we all are: ordinary. And that in itself is a beautiful thing.

What My Daughter Has Taught Me About Trusting God

Confession time: I have control issues. Wait, what? That doesn't surprise you? Oh. Well then. Moving on.

I have this idea in my head that *I* know what's best for my life and the life of my family. I have the best plans. I try my hardest to be the best person I can be, and gosh dangit, only I know how to achieve that.

I worry incessantly. About mostly stupid things. But sometimes, my worries are legitimate. And looking back so far, I think one of the biggest worries in my life occurred when I became pregnant with my little Mary.

I knew, of course, that it was possible I could get pregnant again. My husband and I don't use contraception, and we are fully aware that every time we have intercourse there is a possibility of pregnancy. (And, by the way, even if you DO use contraception, there is STILL a chance you could get pregnant if you have intercourse). But it was never in the forefront of my mind. Kind of like how people know it's possible that if they buy a lottery ticket, they could win the lottery. Or that if dark clouds start forming, a tornado might come. One of those things that you know could happen but just don't really expect.

When I saw those two pink lines on my positive pregnancy test, my entire world shifted. All these thoughts pervaded my waking moments...mainly "what ifs." What if I am so sick for the entire pregnancy and I can't take care of Elizabeth? What if I lose this baby? What if I have to go on bedrest and I can't lift Elizabeth? What if my delivery is horrible and I need months to recover?

And mostly: How the heck am I going to handle two babies so close in age?

There are so many people out there who have multiple children close in age, and some closer in age than my two girls. And they always manage. But I wasn't like them...I'm not patient, or trusting, or unselfish. I didn't know how I was going to do it. Every time someone made the comment, "Wow, you are going to have your hands full!" (every 5.2 minutes to be exact) my doubts and anxieties grew even more.

Then...

I held her for the first time.

My sweet, amazing, gift from God. I can't really describe to you what an incredible baby she is. All of my doubts and fears and insecurities...all of them were for nothing. Because guess what happened? God had it all figured out. I am in the palm of His hand, whether I want to be or not. He gave me this beautiful, calm, easygoing baby. My life and my heart is fuller because of her. And now, I honestly can't imagine my life without two babies close in age. I am so thankful that it happened the way it did.

If *I* had been in control of the situation, I would have waited longer because I just assumed there was no way I would be able to handle having another baby so soon. But my precious Mary has taught me, just by being herself, that God knows what's best for me so much more than I do. And I notice more and more that when I totally surrender myself to him (which, for a control freak, is the hardest thing you can ever do), I feel a sense of peace and contentment that I never previously had.

Is God's will for us always easy? Haaaaahahaha. That's a funny joke, isn't it? Most of the time, it's going to be the more difficult path. But we can have faith that He will give us the grace to get through those difficult times. And after having Mary, I am trying, one day at a time, to LET GO. Even those small, every day decisions that seem like SUCH a big deal. God's got them all under control.

Here's the proof.

Not Everything Happens For A Reason

I'm sure you've all heard or said at one time: "Everything happens for a reason."

And I say to that: nope. Not true.

Before you dismiss me, thinking I'm trying to depress everyone, take heart! This is actually good news!

Let's take a journey back to my college days. I was struggling immensely in my faith. But I was also struggling on a basic physical level: I was having extreme vocal pain every time I sang or talked for an extended period of time (anything longer than 15 minutes). I was seeking vocal coaching and was going to a voice therapist, learning exercises to help, and trying to figure out how to relax my throat muscles. I went on vocal rest, where I couldn't sing or talk for awhile. And let me tell you, vocal rest sure makes you appreciate your ability to talk.

Nothing was really helping. For months and months, I was trying to figure out how to solve the problem. It eventually got to a point where I had to seriously consider whether or not I should continue my degree in music education. Because let's face it...a music teacher who can't talk or sing can't really teach at all.

I began to get angry. I resented the fact that something that came so naturally for everyone else was a daily struggle for me. I didn't understand why this huge obstacle was preventing me from doing what it was a knew was the right path for me: becoming a music teacher.

It got to a point where I became angry with God. After all, He was the one who gave me this burden, right? In my mind, it just wasn't fair. How could a loving God bring harm on anyone, even if it was for a greater good?

I reached a breaking point at a Mass I was supposed to sing at. I knew I was supposed to be resting my voice, but I wanted to try and sing to see if things had gotten any better. As the Mass went on, and the searing pain in my throat became worse and worse, it was clear that things were not better. If anything, they were worse.

It took all the concentration I could muster to not break down in tears in the middle of Mass. Afterward, I ran out and drove home. I needed to be alone.

I went outside and sat down, looking heavenward. I started to mentally tell at God...I couldn't, after all, actually yell, so yelling inside my head was the best I could do. "Why are you doing this to me? What kind of God are you?"

After holding this anger in my heart for awhile, I realized I needed to talk to someone about this issue. I also needed to confess my sin of harboring anger in my heart. So I decided to kill two birds with one stone and go to confession. It is, after all, kind of like free therapy.

I explained to the priest what my issue was. And I said, "I know God is giving me this burden for a reason, but I just don't understand it yet." The priest then said something that completely altered my view on God, and life in general.

"God does not cause bad things to happen to us. He does, however, bring good out of any bad situation. But the root cause of any bad or evil situation is not from God, because God is only good."

I thought about it. And it began to click. God's original plan did not include anything bad or evil. It did not include death, sickness, sin, disaster, or evil. In Adam and Eve's free choice to sin, they opened the door for all this. And we continue today to suffer from those consequences. Some bad things happen as a result of original sin that are out of our control, like natural disasters and serious illness. But these are not from God...they happen because we live in an imperfect world as a result of Adam and Eve's choice. And other bad things happen because of our own choices, not God's: health issues from poor nutrition (assuming we actually made the choice to eat poorly) and lack of exercise, losing a job because we were lazy, relationship problems from us refusing to swallow our pride, etc etc etc.

The point is, none of it is caused by God. He allows bad things to happen, yes. But He does not cause it. He does, however, make good come out of any bad situation if we allow Him to. But it is only because He is infinite goodness, not because He put us in a bad situation only so that He could make something good come out of it.

So what good did God bring out of my situation? Well, for starters, because I went through a period of over a year where I could not use my voice (talking or singing) without extreme pain, I certainly do not take this ability for granted now that I can. Using our voices is something most people don't even think twice about, but I am so incredibly thankful for it. My struggles have also made me a better teacher. I had to learn, from scratch, about how to correctly use my voice and relax my throat muscles. This means that I can better explain to students exactly how to sing and use their voices, which is something many teachers simply assume students know how to do. 

So next time someone says, "If God leads you to it, He will get you through it," think twice. God is not "leading" us anywhere bad. But in His loving goodness, He always finds a way to bring us out of the storms.


Photo credit:
"Harry Belafonte singing 1954" by Carl Van Vechten - Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Van Vechten Collection, reproduction number LC-USZ62-103726 DLC (b&w film copy neg.).. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

What Being A Music Teacher Has Taught Me

I have never felt such mixed emotions as I do today. Today was my last day as a high school music teacher. Today ends a wonderful chapter in my life, and also begins a brand new one. Today, I begin my life as a stay at home mom.

When Trent and I found out about our pregnancy with this current baby, we had to make the very difficult decision of whether or not I would return to work. After a spending a lot of time in prayer, discussion, weighing pros and cons, and a significant amount of tears on my end, we decided it would be the best decision for our family if I became a stay at home mom.

Today I'd like to reflect on the lessons I have learned being a music teacher. As with any career, there have been highs and lows, good times and bad times. There have been times when I came home thinking I was the worst teacher who ever lived, and other times when I have felt that I truly made a positive difference in someone's life. I have shed tears of sorrow, anger, joy, and wonder. Through my job as a music teacher, I have felt God's presence in a way that I never knew possible. I have lost friends through sickness and death, but gained wonderful new friends as well. It has been a crazy ride, and looking back, I am thankful for every moment.


 Lesson 1: You won't please everyone, but you WILL make a difference in someone's life.
My students are like my children. I am with them almost every day, and as a music teacher, I have the same students year after year. I see them when they enter as freshman, and watch them grow through their senior year. I get to know their personalities in a way that many other teachers do not. I have always felt gratitude for this part of my job. As with any job, though, I quickly learned that I could not focus on the negatives. It was very hard for me to realize that not everyone will like me or enjoy being in my class. But that's okay. As many times as I felt frustrated when I could not reach a particular student, there were more times when I had a positive influence on another student's life. And that, my friends, is the best feeling in the world.

Lesson 2: You will learn more than you will teach.
I am a teacher, which means that I am a student. I teach my students how to be musicians, but more often than that, they teach me how to live life. I went through some of my most difficult times of my personal life while teaching, and I tried to be strong through those times. Often, though, I could not stay strong. I realized that my students can support and help me. They really do care, and they want to help. They have humbled me, and through them, I have learned that it's okay to let my guard down sometimes. They have taught me to find wonder in the small things. To get excited about every day. That it's possible to find joy in even the most menial tasks.

Trent helping me set up my
classroom the summer before
I started my job

Lesson 3: Music can be a release for even the most academically challenged student
I loved teaching music because I got to see students thrive who might have been severely struggling in all their other classes. Most of my students were in my classes because they wanted to be there. It was something different from the rest of their day because they were able to express themselves in a way that didn't only involve words or writing. They were pushed to take risks, because it can be intimidating and even terrifying to open yourself up in this way in front of your peers. Music creates a bond like no other, and we were a family. Most of them felt at home in the music room, which was the same way I felt when I took music classes in school.



Lesson 4: Actions speak louder than words
Being a teacher has made me more aware of how I act in front of my students and in my life outside school. If I am constantly focusing on negatives, either about the music or life in general, they will follow suit. Even more so, I can talk the talk all I want, but it's not going to impress anyone. What I needed to do was walk the walk. When I live my life according to what I tell them they should do, they listen. When I don't, they notice, and it affects their outlook in my class and in their lives. This applies to all areas of our lives, and is really difficult to do. But it does make all the difference.

My favorite classroom poster EVER.
I hung it up during my first year but sadly it got lost somewhere in my second year.

Lesson 5: Growin' up is hard to do
It's very easy for me to get irritated or annoyed with a student (or anyone, really) who doesn't cooperate. But sometimes, I was so focused on what I needed to get done that day that I forgot my students have lives outside of my classroom. And some of them are going through very difficult times. We must realize this, not just in the classroom, but everywhere. We encounter people who may not treat us nicely, but we should remember that we don't know everything about their lives and perhaps they are going through a really difficult time. Not that this an excuse to treat people badly, but it still is something we should consider when dealing with others.

Elizabeth loved going to my concerts.
You can see here she is too busy haming
it up to pay attention to the music.

I am so sad to be leaving this wonderful school and my amazing students. I will never forget my time there, what I have learned, and all the friendships I have made. Today, I start a new part of my life. I will still be a full time teacher, but now, my children are my students. My house will be my classroom. My kitchen will be my cafeteria. My yard will be my playground. And I know that, just like when I taught high school, I will learn from my children just as much as they will learn from me. I will have days when I feel like I am the worst parent in the world, and I will have days when I am on top of the world. Sometimes my children will think I am the meanest person ever, and sometimes they will think I am the greatest. I will need to not only talk the talk, but also walk the walk. I will make new friendships, and cherish old ones.

Please keep me in your prayers as I begin this new phase of my life! And, as always, words of advice and/or encouragement are always appreciated :-)

How Becoming a Mother Changed My Outlook on Christ's Crucifixion

Every year on Good Friday I force myself to watch "The Passion of the Christ". I actually hate doing it. I want to look away at most of the parts. But I make myself watch. I figure if Christ can go through all the suffering and die for me, it's the least I can do. It really does help me realize what He went through. When we recite the Creed, we say, "He suffered, died, and was buried." Bam. That's it. It's very easy to just say those words and not even think about them. But after I watch this movie, I realize how much suffering He went through.

In the past, B.C. (before children), the parts I grimaced at the most were always the ones with gore. Especially the scouring at the pillar. Sooo much blood, tears, and awfulness. It seems like it never ends. How could anyone possibly do that to someone? And just stand there and watch (Although, saying that, we all do that. We stand by and watch all sorts of terrible things happen in our society without saying a word)?

After I had Elizabeth, however, I noticed that the movie affected me much differently than before. The parts that made me grimace more than anything were now the ones that involved Mary. Her expressions as she had to watch her son. As she stood there, not able to do anything. To me, that is one of the worst things anyone can go through. To watch as their child suffers, unable to do a thing to change it.

I think of all the times Elizabeth has been sick or hurt. And how much it kills me inside. And they have never been anything life threatening or horribly serious. When this happens, I think of Mary. And what she endured as she watched her son suffer.

Today is a day of fasting, prayer, and somberness. We remember Christ's ultimate sacrifice. We remember what his Mother and his Apostles had to go through as they watched. We remember what this means for us.


Jesus, remember me, when you come into your Kingdom.

The Easter Vigil That Changed My Life

Ohhhh my gosh you guys. My inner Catholic nerd is coming way out. This next week is, by far, my most favorite week of the entire year. Way more than Christmas, even.

IT'S HOLY WEEK!!!

This is how I feel during Holy Week

For those of you who might be interested/may not know, Holy Week is the week before Easter. It is the most liturgically rich, beautiful, wonderful, and important week of the entire year. And it lasts ALL WEEK! Here's the lineup:

Chrism Mass (Tuesday before Easter in our diocese)

Taken from here:

On Holy Thursday morning (in some dioceses it may be another morning during Holy Week), the bishop, joined by the priests of the diocese, gather at the Cathedral to celebrate the Chrism Mass. This Mass manifests the unity of the priests with their bishop.

Here the bishop blesses three oils -- the oil of catechumens (oleum catechumenorum oroleum sanctorum), the oil of the infirm (oleum infirmorum) and holy chrism (sacrum chrisma) -- which will be used in the administration of the sacraments throughout the diocese for the year. This tradition is rooted in the early Church as noted in the Gelasian Sacramentary.

Holy Thursday:

Taken from here:

Holy Thursday is more than just the lead-in to Good Friday; it is, in fact, the oldest of the celebrations of Holy Week. And with good reason: Holy Thursday is the day on which Catholics commemorate the institution of three pillars of the Catholic Faith: the Sacrament of Holy Communion, the priesthood, and the Mass. During the Last Supper, Christ blessed the bread and wine with the very words that Catholic and Orthodox priests use today to consecrate the Body and Blood of Christ during the Mass and the Divine Liturgy. In telling His disciples to "Do this in remembrance of Me," He instituted the Mass and made them the first priests.

Good Friday

Taken from here:

Good Friday, the Friday before Easter Sunday, commemorates the Passion and Death of our Lord Jesus Christ on the Cross. From the earliest days of Christianity, no Mass has been celebrated on Good Friday; instead, the Church celebrates a special liturgy in which the account of the Passion according to the Gospel of John is read, a series of intercessory prayers (prayers for special intentions) are offered, and the faithful venerate the Cross by coming forward and kissing it. The Good Friday liturgy concludes with the distribution of Holy Communion. Since there was no Mass, Hosts that were reserved from the Mass of the Lord's Supper on Holy Thursday are distributed instead.
The service is particularly solemn; the organ is not played, and all vestments are red or (in the Traditional Latin Mass) black.

Holy Saturday (aka Easter Vigil, or the LITURGY THAT TOPS ALL LITURGIES)

Taken from here:

We wait in darkness, bless a fire, process with candles, and hear re-told the stories of our salvation through the scriptures.  The emphasis is on waiting for the culmination of the story: Christ’s resurrection from the dead.  Bells are rung, and alleluias are sung as we hear the gospel account of Christ’s rising.  Then, following this proclamation of the core of our beliefs, new members are brought into the Church through baptism and a profession of faith.  The recounting of Christ’s new life is closely connected to the Church’s renewal through the reception of its new members.
This celebration as a vigil is important because it doesn’t just commemorate something God did in the past; it celebrates something God is doing today.  Although our salvation was accomplished 2000 years ago, we are also watching and waiting to see what God is doing in our lives today.  Because our past and our future are connected, through God’s saving power, it wouldn’t seem like enough for us to simply sit in our pews on Sunday morning, as we do every week.
The celebration of Easter, as a vigil, invites us to break out our most potent symbols of God’s action, and our response.  So, all the waiting, the readings, music, candles, procession, and initiation, all remind us that God has accomplished something amazing by loving us so much.  And our vigil is a statement, individually and collectively, that we are ready to be renewed and to live out of the grace we’ve received.

Then, of course, EASTER! 

Oh, the point of Easter is not chocolate bunnies....right...of course I know that...

The past few years of Holy Weeks have been emotional roller coasters for me, so I am really looking forward to having a somewhat normal experience this year (although you can never really call Holy Week "normal").

Recap:

Holy Week 2012: I was still recovering emotionally from the loss of our first baby (I will dedicate another post to that). My friend and co-worker had just passed away at the age of 30 from cancer the week before. It was a very difficult time in my life. I remember going to Holy Thursday Mass with Trent and getting in a huge argument afterward (mainly due, I'm sure, to my emotional state at the time). Then, the next day on Good Friday, I found out I was pregnant with Elizabeth. This news, because of the recent loss of our first baby, brought a new level of emotion to me: fear, anxiety, trepidation. I spent the remaining time of Holy Week praying desperately to God that he would deliver me from my worries and sadness.

Holy Week 2013: Elizabeth was a few months old and was very sick. She had RSV, and the doctor ordered us to get an x-ray of her lungs on the Wednesday before Easter. I was also suffering from bad postpartum anxiety and depression. I always envisioned that the first Holy Week with my new baby would be so amazing...that I would take her to all the Masses/services and experience the wonder of the liturgies with my brand new family. Instead, we had to keep her home at all times to make sure her sickness did not get worse. Trent and I had to attend the Masses and service separately. It made me so sad to not be able to attend with my family.

This year, we are so blessed. No one is sick, my pregnancy is going very well, and we will all be able to be together. Well...most of the time...Trent is working Good Friday and Easter, but 2 out of 4 ain't bad for a hospital employee!

The Holy Week I remember most, though, is the year 2008. It is one of the most profound weeks of my entire life, and the Easter Vigil Mass contained the single most spiritual moment I have ever experienced. 

Trent and I had been broken up for about a year and a half. That period was a dark time in my life. God was not really something I concerned myself with. I went to Mass, sure, but that was about it. I was desperately searching for happiness in all the wrong places. Making bad decisions. Wondering why I wasn't satisfied. I had recently learned, to my surprise, that Trent was coming into the Catholic Church. Many people assume that the reason he converted from the Lutheran faith was because of me, but I had absolutely nothing to do with it. I didn't even know about it until a few weeks before Easter.

Trent and I spent the week before Easter talking. A LOT. We talked for hours after Holy Thursday Mass and Good Friday service. Trent talked with such passion and enthusiasm about the Catholic faith. He seemed so at peace. It was exactly the kind of peace I was searching for. His zeal for the faith was contagious, and it caught my heart on fire. I promised him I would attend the Easter Vigil Mass to witness his coming into the Church.

I went to the Easter Vigil, not quite sure what to expect. I watched as Trent went up to the altar to receive his blessings. Then, right before communion, the priest opened his arms wide, smiled, and said, "Come. Receive Jesus for the first time." It was almost like Trent was glowing. As I looked at him up on that altar, I heard God say to me, "This is the man I have chosen for you. This is the path I have chosen for you." And suddenly, I was no longer afraid. There was not any trace of doubt in my mind. I was going to marry this man, and that thought gave me so much peace and tranquility that I could hardly stand it. I finally knew what God wanted me to do.

From that point forward, our relationship grew and grew. We were two different people than the ones who had dated in high school. We strove to put our faith in the center of our relationship, and it gave us both peace and happiness that we did not have before. And I never again had any doubt in my mind about the path that God wanted me to take. I can say the same thing to this very day.

So, folks, that's my story. I hope that you all have a blessed Holy Week. And on Easter Sunday, we can finally say the A-word which is forbidden during lent. It rhymes with Kalleluia. So ***insert a-word*** everyone!!!!

What We Can Learn From Mary's "Yes"

Happy Feast Day of the Annunciation! On this day, 9 months before Christmas, we celebrate the day that the Angel Gabriel announced to Mary that she would be the Mother of God:

Luke 1:26-38

The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth,to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said,“Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. Then the angel said to her,“Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his Kingdom there will be no end.” But Mary said to the angel,“How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?”And the angel said to her in reply, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be bornwill be called holy, the Son of God.And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren; for nothing will be impossible for God.” Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

I find so many things about this amazing. God did not NEED Mary to carry out His plan of salvation for mankind. But, in His infinite wisdom, he chose her, a peasant woman, to carry His Son in her womb and to raise Him on Earth. She began Jesus' life as a poor carpenter's son, teaching us to not focus on material things.

The most profound thing I find about this passage, though, is the fact that God did not force this on Mary. Out of respect for our free will, He asked her. God's plan of salvation was dependent on a 14-year-old* girl's "yes." 

*it is debated as to exactly how old Mary was when she became pregnant with Jesus. I don't have an opinion on this matter. I just chose 14 years old as an average.

Um...what would you do??? I don't know about you, but I have a hard enough time saying "yes" when God wants me to let someone go in front of me in line at Chick-Fil-A. What if I were in Mary's place? "Oh hey 14-year-old Ashley, quick question for ya: do you mind becoming God's mother so I can make the word become flesh? I know you're not married and it will cause huge scandal and you could possibly get stoned to death and you will have to one day watch your son die on a cross so that He can save the souls of all mankind...but just a small favor? Maybe after you finish watching Boy Meets World? K thanx bye."

Now, I am not sinless as Mary was. So...OBVIOUSLY instead of immediately replying "May it be done to me according to your word", I might have needed a few minutes to think about it (just a few). 

How many times in my life has God had a plan for me, and I flat out refused His will? Well...that's what sin is. So...perhaps five times. (Just kidding. I think I've sinned seven times in my life). How scary is it to say "God, let Your will be done." Regardless of what I think about it. To me, that's terrifying. Why? Because that is totally and completely surrendering myself to Him. I am giving up all control. I am trusting Him fully.

Scary? Yes. Will we always do this perfectly? No. But we can look to Mary as an example of what it means to live in this way. Ask for her help. She understands what it means to say "yes" to God, even when it's scary. Notice that even she questioned God: "But how can this be, since I have no relations with a man?" It's okay to question and to be scared. But I can say with absolute certainty that every time in my life when I have allowed God to take control, it has always turned out in the best way. Does that mean I always thought it was the best way at the time? No. In fact, there have been times when I've been downright angry with God. But looking back, I realize that He really, really does know what He's doing.

Mary, Mother of God, pray for us.

What Our Grandmothers Can Teach Us

Every year March 15, my birthday, comes around, I can't help but think of my Grandparents. My mother's mom, who we called Cor, had her birthday the day before mine, March 14. Many times, we celebrated our special days together. My mother always told me Cor prayed and prayed that I would be born on her birthday. Not quite...but close!

I often think about my grandmothers, and everything they did as mothers. My dad's mother had 7 children, and Cor had 5 (all girls!). I hear stories from my parents about the kinds of meals they made, the activities they did, and the special gatherings they had. Children played outside all day, unsupervised, free to roam through the neighborhood, fields, and woods. They climbed trees and swam in lakes. They made play forts out of sticks and mud. There were no computers or smartphones or iPads. It all sounds so magical to me, as if it took place in some far off distant land, once upon a time.

 I wonder how my grandmothers would be different if they were moms in this day and age. We can no longer allow our children to wander far from our sight for fear of safety. Sticks and mud have difficulty competing with computer games and television. Children are no longer children: due to rapidly growing access to information, they know things (good and bad) that were never even on the radar of kids back then. The temptations they face are far different...instead of fighting the urge to eat that freshly baked cookie or throw a stick at their older siblings, they now internally struggle as to whether or not they should send "sexts" to a boy they like or verbally bash a friend on facebook.

Please don't misunderstand me and think I'm implying that technology is a bad thing, or that children and mothers 50 years ago had it so easy. Technology is wonderful, if used correctly. And our grandmothers had much different challenges they faced that no longer affect mothers today at all. But I look at the way things are now, and I can't help but worry for my children.

I am a grown woman (although I don't act like it...), and the lure of modern technology is sometimes almost impossible for me to ignore:

"I should use this time to pray right now...but that show on Netflix looks soooo good..."

"Wow, I really need to clean my kitchen. But I just got a Facebook notification!"

"Isn't the weather outside GLORIOUS? Oh, that reminds me, I meant to do some Google research on cloud patterns!"

What scares me is that if I am so affected and easily tempted by technology, how can I expect my children to face the same things? They are tiny people who do not have the same amount of self control that adults do! So when I freak out about this sort of thing, I often think:

WWGD?

What would Grandma do?

When it came to raising children, my grandmothers did not sweat the small stuff. They understood that there were things they could indeed control, and others they couldn't. In the end, they had to allow their children to make mistakes. They let their kids climb trees, knowing that there was a possibility they could fall. They understood that, although it was probably full of germs, that puddle in the middle of the street would probably be fine for the kids to play with. Is it possible to have this attitude with technology? Can I just teach my children well and hope that they make the right decisions? Hope that nothing terrible happens to them?

I think: yes and no. Keep in mind that you should take my opinion with a grain of salt...I have a 14 month old, so the issues I deal with in raising children are much simpler than this. Perhaps when Elizabeth gets older, I will look back at this post and laugh at myself for my naiveté. But at this point in my life, based on my own experiences and experiences of others, Here's what I've concluded so far:

1) Children do not yet have the maturity or decision making skills that adults do, so it is imperative that I have strict guidelines and rules regarding their use of technology (especially computers). Have you seen some of the stuff that's on the internet? SCARY. I would like to preserve their childhood as long as possible.

2) That being said, I can't completely shelter them from every possible bad thing out there. Even if I tried, it would be impossible. I have to allow them, at some point, to show their understanding of right and wrong, self control, and good decision making. 

Maybe it's a paradox. I don't know. Maybe I'll figure this whole scary issue out as I go along. I've found that so far in parenting, I have no idea what I'm doing, and Elizabeth is still alive. So that's good...

I guess that's how my Grandmas did mothering. Maybe they, too, were flying by the seat of their pants, having no clear idea of what to do. Maybe they figured out things as they went along. Maybe we aren't so different after all?

I hope that my Grandmothers would approve of how I am raising my children now. Because I do know one thing: there's nothing quite as disheartening s a disapproving Grandma: