Flying by faith

I’m not scared of flying – I rather enjoy it, actually – but just to be safe, I always say an act of contrition before takeoff and tell the Lord I’m ready to meet Him if it’s time.

This past weekend I made a quick trip to Tennessee to meet my new Goddaughter and celebrate her Baptism. As the plane took off, I was once again convinced I was going to plummet to my death at some point during the 1.5-hour flight.

I know the rules of physics and can regurgitate all the book answers. I even know that Lift = .5ρ2ACL (I took honors physics… and might have dated an aerospace engineer… or two). But even with that knowledge, the concept of an 80,000-pound object being suspended in thin air for hours seems contrary to everything that makes sense up in my brain – especially if I’m on that object. I don’t understand it, but I don’t have to. I just have to get on board.

From the good to the bad, there is so much in life I guess I’ll never understand. I will never be able to explain why they had to lose their young daughter to cancer, why she lost her baby, why her heart has been broken so many times, or why he can’t find a job. On the more joyful side, I can’t really explain how transubstantiation actually works, how five loaves and two fish fed 5,000, or how spit made a blind man see. My knowledge alone cannot explain a lot of things, but I don’t have to have an explanation. I just have to trust in the Lord with all my heart, and lean not on my own understanding.

God is big enough to handle our questions. Jesus hung on the cross to open our eyes to what we would otherwise never see, knowing all of the questions we would have from that great act of love, and to answer our questions; I believe there's no place he would rather have been. But when our own insight is not sufficient for the big "why?" questions we often face, sometimes it’s best to toss our lack of understanding up on a wing and prayer, trust in the Lord, and fly by faith. Whenever I do that, I seem to land safely.

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, on your own intelligence rely not. In all your ways be mindful of him, and he will make straight your paths.” Proverbs 3:5-6

Please act to oppose abortion mandates

No one should be required to pay for or participate in abortion. Doctors should have the freedom to refrain from medical practices they deem immoral.

From the USCCB:

“All committee-approved health care reform bills are seriously deficient on the issues of abortion and conscience. None of the bills retains longstanding current policies against abortion funding or abortion coverage mandates, and none fully protects conscience rights in health care.”

The Bishops are asking for our help in supporting health care that respects the life and dignity of all people. Please do not sit idle on this issue of epic, eternal importance. To let your voice be heard about opposing abortion funding and mandates in health care reform, contact your legislators today. Please send a pre-written e-mail to Congress by visiting www.usccb.org/action

More information about the bills can be found here.

I fell in love again

The first time I fell truly, madly, deeply in love was when I was at a Young Life camp as a high school kid. The beach sunsets and starry nights set the perfect stage, and the man’s character was so compassionate, so caring, so selfless, so others-oriented, I couldn’t help but be completely absorbed in him and all his ways.

This week I had the privilege of giving the talk at the end of Young Life Club, and I chose to share the story of Jesus forgiving the adulterous woman and saving her from being stoned – the same story that captivated my heart for him more than ten years ago.

What I love most about this story is how Jesus cares so deeply for this woman just as she was – ashamed and a sinner. When she is caught in the “very act of adultery,” is standing there in front of the town’s social elite, humiliated and probably covered by nothing more than a bed sheet, Jesus grants her mercy from being stoned to death, but he does so much more than that!

My favorite part of this story, is how when Jesus bends down and doodles in the sand, for that one moment, he frees the woman from all the painful ridicule and judgment of the gawking by-standers by drawing their eyes off of her, and onto him. It’s an example of complete care and concern for this woman and all she was going through. A perfect, beautiful example of Cura Personalis in action.

It’s my favorite story about the person of Christ, because it reveals to a world where most of us think of God as a big, lumpy, hairy, angry old man in the clouds ready to beam down lighting bolts of condemnation if we curse, lie, or drink too much, that he is actually a God of perpetual mercy and forgiveness who cares about each of us that deeply, that intricately, and with that much compassion.

The fervor of his love for us all is revealed in such a way by this story that whenever I hear it, and especially when I tell it, I can’t help but fall sweetly in love with him all over again.

Blooming where I’m planted.

For the past three-and-a-half years of my post-college life, I’ve felt like I’ve been waiting for something to happen… some door to open, some relationship to become a commitment, some job to open up in the golf industry, or just some legitimate reason to uproot my life and plant it anywhere other than Milwaukee. But after a lot of prayer for guidance, a door to open, or some light to a new path, for the first time in these three years I finally feel like I am content, at peace, and planted exactly where God wants me to be. It feels great.

I was out and about on Friday night, and over the course of the evening I randomly ran into at least two-dozen friends from Young Life, Café Aduro, my Marquette days, and current co-workers. It felt good to be out in a city of one million people, and bump into so many friends at random. Saturday I was at Camp Randall (for the Iowa victory, holler!) with two of my sisters and I ran into at least a dozen friends in Madison whom I had no idea would be there. Today at Mass I walked in by myself, but was quickly greeted by my fifty-two high school confirmation candidate friends who were just returning from their weekend retreat (which I bailed on for the Iowa game… selfishly, I admit it was sooo worth it). While apple picking today with Cute Attorney I ran into my next door neighbor’s family. And tonight, I was surrounded by the warmth of my Young Life family at an all-area dinner. It was a weekend full of family, good friends, old friends, new friends, and just feeling like I belonged.

I don’t know if I want to stay at my current job for the next year, five years, ten years, or forever. I don’t know if I want to go back to school or not. I don’t know how long I want throw money away at renting my apartment. I don’t know what I’m going to wear tomorrow, when I’m going to finish the laundry, or when I’m ever going to make it to the grocery store. I don’t know a lot of things. But I do know, that for right now, I am exactly where God wants me to be, and am so very content to keep blooming where I’m planted.

I want to be an old man.

As much as I wish I could have been a wide receiver for the Iowa Hawkeyes, I wouldn’t even trade an X for a Y chromosome for that opportunity. I like being a woman. I really, really do.

My gratitude is partially because if I would have been born a baby boy, my name would have been Edward, and I do not like the name Edward. But mostly, it’s because I love rocking life per God’s design of the feminine genius. I like men. I appreciate the fact that I am emotional. I have a deeply rooted desire to nurture and care for children the way only a mother can. There’s not been a single day of my life when I have wished I were born of the male gender.

There is one exception to that. I do, with all my heart, wish that even if for just one day I could experience life as an old man.

Think about it… Old men get away with practically anything they want. The majority are loud, smelly, and without manners and we all say, “oh, what a cute little old man!” You see one at the restaurant with butter smeared on his chin and instead of, “ew, gross!” you think, “Well that’s just darling. How sweet!” You find yourself screeching to a halt for one J-walking through rush hour traffic and you think, “Aww, that’s endearing. He probably doesn’t have much time left.” An old man cuts right in front of you at the grocery store and says, “Thank you for letting me go ahead. I just have a few items,” and you gladly oblige. You are seated on an airplane by one who is repeatedly popping your personal bubble and who reeks of old spice, pipe tobacco, and scalp, but you are nonetheless charmed and comforted by his obtrusive grandfatherliness.

Maybe it’s because they all remind us of Santa Clause. Maybe we are just aware they don’t have much time left. Maybe we assume they’ve seen so much hardship in their long lives of labor that we subconsciously thinks it’s finally time to cut them some slack.

Why we let them get away with anything they please, I don’t know. But this I do know… old men have it made. And, that I’d like to implement their genius strategy. So I welcome any theories you have.

good news

The last week has been full of good news. I survived surgery, dog sitting, oxycodone, a house full of teenagers, and hauling an oversized-load of a Plinko board across town through rush hour traffic. It has been a busy, but pretty awesome week. Updates in alphabetical order…

Café Aduro: I'm on the team starting a new Young Adult Ministry sponsored by my parish called Café Aduro, which stands for Catholic Adult Formation and Education on fire. Last night was the first in a series of speakers, and we actually had people show up and stick around well past the intended ending time, so we're pretty stoked. Next topic: “I Talk to Dead People.” Check it out here!

Confirmation: I had a living room full of teenagers this weekend for my first small group session with the candidates I’m advising this year. It was awesome. This week we discussed the Trinity, and Salvation. You can imagine the questions! The Most Entertaining Award goes to a question regarding grace and forgiveness... “Wait, what if I was so drunk that I don’t remember being drunk. How can I ask forgiveness from something I don’t even remember?” Oh boy. This is going to be an interesting group; and I’m going to love every minute of it!

Cute Attorney: He continues to be pretty fantastic. Although a bit of a workaholic, he is an ambitious gentleman who shares my affinities for words like affinity, Marquette basketball, side-parted hairstyles, dance parties, and old-school rules of grammar. And, I very much appreciate the fact that he appreciates that I can keep up with him in theological discussions about post-Limbo doctrine and proper consultation of the Magesterium. I’m hopeful there will be more of those discussions to come!

Young Life: My fellow leaders and I have been busy hanging out with high schoolers, together belting Journey songs at the top of our lungs, taking the Taco Bell Value Menu challenge, and making fools of ourselves in hopes of being able to introduce these new friends of ours to the Lord. Last night I went to a swim meet for some face time, and although I could only stay for a few minutes I was able to connect with at least ten kids I knew… it was pretty solid "contact work," as we call it in Young Life, and it has me totally jazzed for the school year ahead, building friendships, and, God willing, sharing with them the best Good News of all!

An ugly kind of blind

It’s been a blustery, rainy couple of days here in Brew City, but I'm seeing more clearly than I have in years.

While most often people celebrate anniversaries, or even half-anniversaries, yesterday I celebrated sixth months of freedom from a relationship wherein I allowed myself to be – pausing to tame my tongue – emotionally trampled on, unbeknownst to me at the time.

I'm not celebrating the arbitrary numeric aspect of the six months themselves. Rather, I guess I’m celebrating my long-awaited, recently attained realization of just how pathetically blinded I was. So, Happy Half-Un-Anniversary to me!

If there's one thing I've learned in the past incredibly edifying year of my life, it's that love can be an ugly kind of blind, but, thank God, the twenty-twenty view of hindsight is a thing of beauty from above.

So whether it takes six months of begging our Father for mercy and healing, a stellar date with a super cute attorney, or some combination thereof, when you reach that point of clarity, see your blindness, and put it behind you, Hot Dang does it feel good!

Against all odds

My beloved Hawkeyes upset Old Man JoPa’s then-ranked-number-5 Nittany Lions on Saturday – for the second year in a row. My usually terrible kickball team managed our first victory last week, fully ninja-masked and all. And, I actually arrived to work on time a few days last week. Lately, it seems things are going in my favor, even against all odds.

When I first picked up the hit book, He’s Just Not That Into You by Greg Behrendt, I was getting over my very first “love.” I was twenty-years-old, thought I was experiencing a broken heart, and was searching for any practical means to help me see the light at the end of my miserable tunnel vision. My Bestie fed-exed it – The Book – to me overnight, I read it cover-to-cover in one sitting, and my perspective on dating was instantly changed for life, and for better.

Second only to the Bible, The Book is the most liberating piece of literature any single twenty-something could possible read. Its mantra can be summed up very simply: If a dude is into you, he’s going to make it very, very clear. If he does NOT make it clear, don’t waste your time, because, “he’s just not that into you.”

More specifically, it says if a guy wants to see you again, he will confirm the next time he gets to see you before the first encounter comes to an end. Conversely, if he doesn’t confirm the next time to see you while still in your presence the first time, it means he’s not going to call, at all.

Well, I recently realized I have ample data to compile my very own statistically conclusive facts on the aforementioned matter. The calculations are in, my friends, and while The Book says he’s just not that into you if he doesn’t ask to see you again while still on your first encounter, and you’ll eventually get an “awkward e-mail rejection,” my experience says otherwise. It turns out that, in the life of yours truly, even if he doesn’t ask to see you again at the conclusion of your first encounter, there is still a 63% chance you will hear from him in the near future.

So to all the single ladies, keep your chins up. The odds are in our favor.

When the Lights go Down in the City

At 11 p.m. last night the wind outside was howling, I was on my couch with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc watching TV, and all of a sudden the lights flickered and, aw snap, everything went out in my neighborhood. There I sat, me and my lonesome, in darkness and silence. God bless charged laptops!

Whether in your home, or in life in general, there are several things we can do when we find ourselves powerless and in the dark.

Light a candle… or nine
There’s an ancient Chinese proverb now used by the Christophers, “It’s better to light one candle that to curse the darkness.” You can choose to sit in the darkness, or you can get off your couch, dig through your messy drawers to find matches and a candle and be amazed as its flame pierces the darkness.

Put the candle in front of your cute nephew
When you muster up the means to light some candles, see the bright side, and get the flames-a-blazing, focus the candles' light so it shines on something clearly, obviously joyful, like, a picture of your adorable nephew Jack. His smile, coupled with the flames, will light up the room.

Hang with the Big Guy
Even if you already offered a rosary that day, pick another method of prayer and pray harder. It’s a great time for prayer when the lights and noises of the world are gone, and the Lord is the only one - no people, tv, radio, internet - to occupy your time and receive your love and affection.

Appreciate the night
I’m reminded of my favorite Pat Green song, “Crazy,” from his Three Days album. He sings, “Yeah, sometimes I sleep with all the lights on. It helps me to appreciate the night. Don’t you think life would be awfully boring if the good times were all that we had?” You’re right, Pat. You are so right. So take the time to appreciate the slower, more mellow pace of the darkness.

Call Customer Service
When you have no power on your own, chances are a friend does who would love to help you out. In a power outage, you’ll be lucky to have We Energies’ Customer Service line in your cell phone for an ETA on power restoration. In general, a cell phone can reach a friend at any time of the day or night, so be sure it’s charged up and has plenty of numbers stored, ready to heed your cry for help.

Eat all the ice cream in your freezer
Because it's delicious, and, tomorrow it will be melted.

Can I get a re-do?

I play pick-up volleyball at my gym twice a week, and while sometimes I get lucky and it approaches almost competitive, most of the time it's approximately the level of my 8th grade South East Junior High A-Team. Recently, those of us with some degree of skill have adapted our strategy to, rather than pass-set-spike, just keep the ball away from Chuck, a darling but 80-year-old grandpa with thick goggle-glasses who moves at a pace slightly faster than a giant sea turtle.

Last night there was a new girl. I'll give her 9th grade, freshman team skills - you know, where some people start getting cut. So my team was down 5 - 7 when the serve comes over, hits the tape on the net, and my teammate dives in front of the ten-foot line to pop it up. I get under it and set to the middle hitter, who swings and has a kill right in front of Newbie. My team celebrates the well-deserved side-out, but Newbie across the net breaks up our party with her whiney shriek of, "But I didn't know the ball could hit the net on the serve!"

Ummm, gosh, I'm so terribly sorry, Newbie. Here's an idea - how 'bout you learn the rules before you step on my court.

Her whining continued, so in order to shut her mouth, the majority decided to allow Newbie's team a redo, which, to me was absolutely ridiculous. Instead of throwing a fit and demanding justice, I chose to roll my eyes to myself and I thought of all the times I wish I could have a re-do.

Like the time I thought I had a month long grace period to renew my expired driver's license, but didn’t, and I ended up getting pulled over during that month, fined for both speeding and driving without a license and being mandated to call a tow truck AND appear in court, which happened to be the day after a break-up, to-boot.

Or like the time I spent .2 seconds too long gazing at the pretty dresses in the boutique window and crashed into the Honda in front of me.

Or like the time I was on a date with the cutest, most Irish, most athletic, most intelligently Catholic man I'd ever been on a date with and I said the dumbest things a chick could ever say.

Truth is, we all do a whole lot of stupid stuff, and people don't always give us re-dos. But we have very Good News that God is much more gracious than all of us, especially me in the midst of any competitive activity, and when we offend him, he gives us a re-do whenever we approach him with contrite heart.

So go to the Ultimate Referee, tell him you're sorry for screwing up (insert plug for the awesome Sacrament of Reconciliation here), let our gracious God impart more grace to you than any opponent/date/policeman/Honda driver ever could and be refreshed, renewed, and re-done.