Mary and Martha

"I'm Mary and I'm Martha, all at the same time-

I'm sitting at His feet, and yet I'm dying to be recognized-

I am the picture of contentment, and I am dissatisfied -

Why is it easy to work, but hard to rest sometimes?"

-Audrey Assad, Lament

It's so, so easy for me to see myself here. Longing to sit at the Lord's feet and listen to his words, be captured by his gaze... to soak up as much of his love and wisdom as I can. Yet I'm dying to do something great, something that seems important, something worth recognizing.

The picture of contentment - God has blessed me with a wonderful life, full of amazing people and great things. Yet I always feel the need to do something more. Sometimes I feel quite inadequate, and I admit, sometimes I don't quite know how to just stop working - whether it's "work" work, doing stuff at home, or even blogging. It's so much easier for me to work, than it is for me to rest... and even when I am physically at rest, my mind wants to continue working instead of resting.

I get restless; I want to keep running, yet I'm tired of running. All at the same time. Obviously, there are times and places to be both Martha and Mary, but balancing those roles can be so difficult - maybe more for some of us than others. I definitely fall into that category, and all I'd have to do to prove it to you would be to tell you about an average day during my week (I'll spare the details - you'll have to trust me on this one). You could say I don't know what to do if I don't have something to do - and I'm generally quite content having plenty of things to think about/get done.

Still, I know I must find that balance - and be Mary, too - and this Lent has really reminded me of that. In the midst of all the busy-ness and craziness that has been going on, I have been led to realize that the balancing act involves both God's grace, and conscious effort by me. Ha, I just wish my conscious effort was better! But, I suppose, practice makes perfect...

+peace, and all good! 

late thoughts on the last friday of lent

I pathetically fell asleep while writing this post last night. Yep, that's right. Fell asleep, laptop on my lap, and woke up at 2:00 a.m. Rats. Oh well. There's a ton of pollen in the air, and it's not making the allergies happy... which then makes me tired... which then results in me falling asleep while writing a blog post. And that's my story, and I'm sticking to it!

Anyway...

Last night, I was going to write about the last Friday in Lent. Big surprise, eh? My husband and I went to Stations of the Cross last night, and I found myself considering this. The last Friday in Lent, thus the last Friday night of Stations for this Lent. Next Friday is Good Friday.

I can't claim to have ever really liked attending Stations of the Cross. Maybe I'm weird? I don't know how many people out there enjoy going to Stations, or don't. This year, I've developed a new appreciation for them, perhaps because the parish I've been attending them at uses a version I'd never seen before. It's made me think a little bit more about "translating" the Stations of the Cross into my own life. In the version, one of the prayers is read as if Christ is speaking to the people, I'll leave you with part of it - I think it's worth reflecting on. He says (not exact quote, I'm working from memory here), speaking of the fourteen step journey we make in the Stations of the Cross, "The fourteen steps you are about to take, you do not take alone... My way of the cross two thousand years ago, and your way now, are one... My life was not complete until I crowned it by my death. Your fourteen steps will only be complete when you have crowned them by your life."

ah, posting late...

Late post tonight, as I had a fab evening with someone I hadn't seen in far too long. We could've talked for hours longer, but is often the case, it was getting late, and we both have plenty to do tomorrow. 

In any case, this'll be short, since it's well past my bedtime!

Last Thursday of Lent. I still can't believe how quickly the past few weeks have gone, or how much has happened in them. Of course, I am looking forward to Holy Week (sheesh, how many times have I said that this week???), but this Lent has been quite a journey, and I am certainly grateful for that, too. :-)

And yep, I think that's it for me tonight. Brain shutting down, time for bed. Peace!

the desert

The desert. What does "desert" bring to mind? Note... we are talking about the desert... not dessert, okay? Desert being a dry, hot, often sandy place, dessert being cake and ice cream - ooh, sorry to bring that up if you gave it up for Lent... which would mean you were fasting from dessert in the Lenten desert... but that's kind of beside the point. ;-)

Anyways, the desert. We know Christ fasted in the desert for 40 days before beginning His public ministry. That desert was a place of spiritual preparation, where physical fasting took on the spiritual dimension - as Hans Urs von Balthasar put it, "Emptying himself of the human and ordinary, he becomes aware of the dimensions of the cosmos that he, as Savior of the world, is to bring back to God."

And all of us have been in the desert of Lent for nearly 40 days now. Although our "fasts" are not nearly as extreme as Christ's, our Lenten desert is still a place of spiritual preparation, of growth - it is springtime, after all! Hopefully, we have all been striving to love God more deeply, learning to see and reverence his presence in all those around us, trying our best to "turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel" as we were exhorted on Ash Wednesday.

I think our own desert fast bears a deeper resemblance to the fast of Christ if we draw a kind of corollary to von Balthasar's words. If we empty ourselves of the human and ordinary, we become aware of the "dimensions" of the salvation wrought through Christ's suffering and death - how the Savior of the world brought us back to God.

+peace, and all good.

one of those days...

Anyone else out there have a long day today? I know I did. Note that I said "long," not bad. Just long. A bit frustrating. One of those days at work that follows you home - that you weren't quite able to leave at your desk. So. Much. To. Do. And the office politics. Ohhhh yeah. That's all I'm going to say about that.

Needless to say, it's one of those days when I need a good reminder that there are still, in fact, more important things in life than what I do at work for 40 or 50 hours a week. And a break from cooking dinner. Thankfully, I got both tonight.

It was one of those days when I realized even more, the challenge inherent in trying to live life fully engaged in both the physical and spiritual worlds - when the physical world around me is trying to pull my attention away completely - and basically succeeds. The challenge. The struggle. God, it's so hard. 

I'd just venture a guess that the next few days will be, well, interesting. After all, we are in the last few days of Lent, the last part of this journey. As much as I'm looking forward to Holy Week, I have a feeling that by the end of this week, I'll really, really, REALLY be looking forward to Holy Week, if you know what I mean.

I pray that we are all at peace in these days, particularly in the challenges they may present, and at least for me, are already presenting.

In honor of the journey we are still traveling:

looking vs. seeing

I sat out on my deck yesterday afternoon - glass of wine in hand - and watched the clouds play in the sky, shifting the pattern of light and shadow on the Sandias. 

I grew up looking at the Sandias, and have always loved any view of them. However, I have to say that I never really saw the mountain until a few years ago. It was December 2006, a few days before I graduated from UNM. I was driving east on Montgomery on my way back to work after getting my hair done, when I took my eyes off the road for a moment and looked up toward the Sandias – and actually saw them. The jagged rocks. The trees, some of which appeared to be hanging on for dear life on rocky ledges. The colors I’d never recognized there before. 

It was like seeing with new eyes – the details pressed themselves into my mind as if I’d never seen this mountain in my life. I suppose that in a certain sense, I really hadn’t – it was one of those things I’d looked at, but had failed to truly see. 

Have you ever had an experience like that, and realized you'd been looking at something for so long, but failed to truly see it? Or him, or her? Perhaps you've had a similar experience in your journey of faith, realizing you've been looking at some aspect of faith, but missing its deeper meanings... or finding out the things you thought were so important are only a small part of a much larger story.

Do we go through life "just looking"? Or do we really see?

never underestimate...

You've probably heard it said before, that you should never underestimate the impact you could have on another person's life. Well, you're going to read it here tonight.

Never underestimate the impact you could have on another person's life. We would do well to recall that our impacts can be positive or negative; hopefully that recollection will help us to be mindful of doing good. I've always thought it was funny how these things worked. We don't even have to know someone to make a difference in their life, to make God's love real for them. A smile, a kind word, a simple "hello" can mean more than we know. Of course, there are those who impact us in a more extended way, through their love, friendship, guidance, whatever it may be. Their actions in our lives are indeed the actions of God, leading us to become the people He has called us to be.

There have been so many "impactful" people in my life. Some did indeed have a hurtful impact on my life, and those aren't pleasant, but they are what they are. I hope that at the least, I have learned something from them, even if it's a lesson in how not to treat someone else. There have been many more who left a positive mark, and I am grateful for them, and the blessings that have come to me through them. Those people are my family, my friends, and others whom I have barely known. Without them, I might not have had the courage to do some of the things I have had to do; without their encouragement, there are things I might not have had the confidence to accomplish; without their guidance, I might have lost my path; without their love, I might have lost sight of the love of God. I hope that the person I am today, and the person I will grow to be tomorrow, reflects that good that has been given to me. I further hope that, even in a small way, I can repay some of those blessings by making a difference in someone else's life.

"Paying it forward" should be paramount for all of us.

 +Peace, and all good!

the end of the world?

OK, I just have to rant a little bit tonight. I was enjoying the lovely spring day here today, spending the afternoon with a friend, and we got to talking about all the 2012 "end of the world" stuff that's going around lately. Yes, "going around." Like a disease. Because I swear, it is a disease.

First of all, anyone who claims to be Christian, and to know when the world will end, should remind themselves of the words of Christ in the Gospel: "... of that day and hour, no one knows." (Mt. 24:36) I don't understand how that doesn't clear this little issue up for everyone.

So what if the Mayan calendar ended in 2012? So what if there are preachers who continue to "prophesy" the date when this grand world will come to an end? So what?!?!?!!!! Christ has told us that no one knows when the day will come.

And furthermore, why should it scare us? If you are a person of faith, you know that you should be ready to be called to eternity at any time. If we strive for that, what have we to fear?

When the world will end is irrelevant. If God decides to bring the curtain down, there is nothing we can do to stop it - nor should we try! So of course, we should be prepared, but that's no different than the days before all this apocalyptic stuff started popping up everywhere. We should always be ready, and as St. Padre Pio said, "Pray, hope, and don't worry." Worrying over the end of the world is like worrying over death. It's a waste of life.

+Peace, and all good, friends! Indeed, "Pray, hope, and don't worry!"

questions

We humans are inquisitive creatures.

We always want to know why, or how, or what, or when, you know? All of those things... though I think we most often concern ourselves with why.

Why am I here?

Why did this happen?

Why now?

Why??

We seek to understand. We seek to know. And we struggle with our own limitations to know and understand. We struggle with the fact that sometimes, there just isn't a good answer to "why?" - and our attempts to answer the question only make it worse. It doesn't mean we should stop asking questions. I think it simply means that there are times when the answer may not be all that important, after all.

+peace, and all good

seeing the seasons

Not gonna lie, right now I don't feel like I have much to say tonight. I've been sitting in front of the computer for way too long, trying to come up with something to write this evening. Maybe it's because I've had a long, somewhat exhausting (though still good!) week at work. Maybe it's because I'm feeling a bit of that Lenten desert more strongly tonight. Maybe it's because, with everything going on, in and out of work, I just haven't had a good opportunity to reflect on much this week.

So, what do we talk about when we have nothing else to talk about?

The weather. Right?

Well, it was beautiful today - sunny, warm, perfect for the beginning of spring. It was so nice not to have to wear a jacket this afternoon.

How aware are you of the changing of the seasons? I realize the changes in season are more pronounced in some geographic locations than others - here in NM, how distinct those changes are seems sometimes to depend on the year. But I admit, I haven't often paid much attention to the changes of season, except to note the gradual chill of the air that always signals the approaching of autumn. I think I've always been too distracted by other things (well, for the most part, I was distracted by school for many years). This year, though, I've paid much more attention, and I'm honestly not sure why. Maybe it's because I don't have to do homework anymore. ;-)

In the days just after Christmas, I began to notice that daylight was beginning to lengthen again, ever so gradually. I started to take note of the constellations in the night sky, and how their positions in the sky have shifted since January. I noticed when the trees started to wake from their winter sleep - and in the past few days, have observed the flowering of trees and early spring flowers. Like I said, I don't know why I've paid more attention this year, but I have.

For various reasons, over the past three months, I've been often reminded of the words of God through Isaiah: "See, I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" Perhaps my unusually intent observations of the changing seasons is part of this reminder I've been given: that God is always doing something new - both in nature, and in our lives - and the one is an analogy for the other.

+peace, and all good. See what happens when we talk about the weather?

"O God, come to my assistance..."

"O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me." 

These words, from Psalm 70, are also familiar to anyone who recites the Liturgy of the Hours as the invocation at the beginning of each hour. This evening, I came across a reflection from St. John Cassian about this verse, and the fullness of its meaning. It's worth sharing - it's an excellent reminder of the power in this invocation:


"And so for keeping up continual recollection of God this pious formula is to be ever set before you. 'O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me,' for this verse has not unreasonably been picked out from the whole of Scripture for this purpose. For it embraces all the feelings which can be implanted in human nature, and can be fitly and satisfactorily adapted to every condition, and all assaults. It contains an invocation of God against every danger, it contains humble and pious confession, it contains the watchfulness of anxiety and continual fear, it contains the thought of one’s own weakness, confidence in the answer, and the assurance of a present and ever ready help. For those who call constantly on their protector are sure of having him always at hand." (St. John Cassian, Conferences, X)


I'd never considered the depth of meaning in this verse - but St. John unpacks it quite nicely - from its purpose as an invocation, helping us to keep a continual recollection of God - to its adaptability to any situation - its humble request of God, acknowledging the need for assistance with faith in the response. 


For those who call constantly on their protector are sure of having him always at hand.


"O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me." 



+peace, and all good :)

star stuff

I've mused a bit about the stars before. Stars, so far away, glittering in the night - massive, lovely giants lighting up other corners of the universe.


Have you ever thought about how much we share with them? How much star stuff is within us? 


I love Carl Sagan's words: "Some part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return, and we can, because the cosmos is also within us. We're made of star stuff..." 


Yes, Sagan was correct. We are, indeed, made of star stuff. All that talk of carbon-based life forms? Well... carbon (and hydrogen, too, and just about every element) is produced within stars - in a process known as stellar nucleosynthesis. So yeah, we're made of star stuff. 


This is not some kind of negation of the creative work of God... merely another facet of it - or if you prefer, another way to consider it. We, tiny humans, are made out of the same elements as the giant stars. And if the stars are so remarkable in all their giant greatness, giving off light and heat, and synthesizing elements - how much more remarkable are we tiny creatures who live and breathe and also participate in the creative work of God? 


As a side note, you may be aware that Carl Sagan was an atheist. Reading his prose, however, I think it's remarkable how close he really was to the mysteries of God and creation - perhaps without ever realizing it. 


After all, when we look at the stars and sense that longing that tells us "this is where we came from," is that longing not simply for the commonality we share with the stars, but also a longing for the eternal that we sense in the skies? "We long to return, and we can, because the cosmos is within us..." and so, too, the One who created the cosmos is also within us. Is it so much a longing to return to the cosmos, as it is a longing to return to the Creator - a longing to return to our origin? 






Creator of the stars of night, your people's everlasting light... 

unexpected journeys

Have you ever gone out for a run at sunset with the intention of following your "usual" route, but gone in a different direction because you caught a glimpse of something particularly beautiful or unusual? Maybe the late afternoon light was reflecting off a mountain, or a hillside, and you couldn't help but want to watch its dance - even though it was the exact opposite direction of where you'd intended to go - and into the wind, no less...

So you ran. And found the unexpected journey exhilarating. Freeing, even. When you reached the end of the path and turned around, the wind that had been in your face was now at your back.

Feeling refreshed instead of weary, you realize that with the wind at your back, you're running faster than usual, and you weave your way back down through the neighborhood trails, now watching the glow of the setting sun - barely visible over the horizon. You reach the turn that will take you home, but instead run up to the next bend, simply to get a view of daylight's final glow - pausing to catch your breath, and drink in the beauty. After a few moments, you turn to jog home in the twilight, quietly thankful for letting yourself be guided down a path you'd never considered before.

And when you read this, you realized it was about much, much more than a run at sunset.

+Peace, and all good, friends. May your night be blessed.

"the light came into the world"

Sharing the Gospel reading from the 4th Sunday of Lent just feels like the most appropriate thing to do this evening: 


St. John, 3:14-21:


"Jesus said to Nicodemus:
'Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert,
so must the Son of Man be lifted up,
so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.'

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him might not perish
but might have eternal life.
For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world,
but that the world might be saved through him.
Whoever believes in him will not be condemned,
but whoever does not believe has already been condemned,
because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.
And this is the verdict,
that the light came into the world,
but people preferred darkness to light,
because their works were evil.
For everyone who does wicked things hates the light
and does not come toward the light,
so that his works might not be exposed.
But whoever lives the truth comes to the light,
so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God."

laetare... rejoicing, in Lent

Hope everyone is having a great St. Patrick's Day - and remembering the awesome saint whose memory we commemorate today in ways other than just drinking green beer, etc., etc. Not that there's anything wrong with drinking green beer (but please, please, be safe out there tonight!!!).

Anyways... this weekend is cause for a celebration, besides St. Patrick's Day. It's the 4th Sunday of Lent, which is also known as Laetare Sunday... laetare means "rejoice" in Latin. This Sunday is our "bright spot" in the middle of Lent - a reminder of the Easter celebrations soon to come, a reminder that the culmination of our Lenten penitence is coming very soon.

I know I've mentioned this before, but in the parish my husband and I currently attend, Baptisms are celebrated at Saturday evening Mass on every third Sunday of the month. Yes, during Mass. Not afterward. This inclusion of Baptisms at Mass started in the fall, and I'm sure it initially caused heartburn for some Saturday evening Mass-goers who weren't too keen on the idea of Mass lasting just barely longer than an hour (seriously, just barely - maybe 10 minutes). I admit, that thought crossed my mind, too, but having never been part of a parish that celebrated this sacrament at Mass, except at Easter, I thought it sounded kind of cool. Over the past few months, I've come to really look forward to the third Sunday of the month, because it's always an occasion for "extra" joy at Mass. Aside from the fact that it's always fun (and sometimes funny!) to watch the kiddos receive new life in Christ and get their heads wet - and then covered with sacred chrism oil - in the process ;-) ... ... it's simply so beautiful to welcome children into the community of the universal Church through Baptism at Mass. Can you imagine what it would be like if the Sacrament of Baptism was celebrated at Mass in every parish? What kind of impact would the prayers of the entire congregation have on the lives of ALL those children, their parents, and godparents?

I'll get to the point. This weekend is the third Sunday of the month. And also Laetare Sunday. So, the Sacrament of Baptism was celebrated at Mass this evening - the vigil Mass anticipating Laetare Sunday. Cool, eh? I think so! It was awesome - a collision of joy on all levels... so beautiful and wonderful and exciting. Joyful celebration of baptism, a reminder of our own baptisms, and all on a Sunday in Lent on which we are called specifically to REJOICE.

We have so many things to rejoice over, and be grateful for - it is good to have this Sunday in the middle of Lent as a reminder! And in particular, as we are reminded in the Gospel for this Sunday, "'God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.'"

+Peace, and all good! Rejoice!

Stations of the Cross

"I was speeding on the subway, through the Stations of the Cross..." - U2, "Moment of Surrender"

I think the lyrics to this song say a lot more than they seem to on the surface. There's a sadness, almost a pleading, in the words (if you're not familiar with the song, you can read the lyrics in their entirety here). I know, you're probably thinking, ok, what the heck does speeding on the subway have to do with the Stations of the Cross? Isn't that kind of sacreligious? And seriously, you're quoting U2?!?!?!

Well, obviously, I don't know exactly what Bono and company had in mind when they wrote "Moment of Surrender." I think it is, at least in part, a commentary on the human condition, and there's nothing sacreligious about that. A commentary on enduring suffering in our own lives, and observing the suffering of those around us - because so often, we are invisible to each other. The people on the subway/bus/train/etc. The people on the street corner. The people in our church or our school or our office. The people walking down the street with you this afternoon. Our family. Our friends. The people we walk with and even talk to, those we know and those we don't, to whom we are all bound by our common humanity - but whom we do not truly see.

I think it's a commentary on the suffering in the world, in all its forms, from physical to emotional to mental to spiritual. We would do well to remember that suffering only has meaning in the context of the Stations of the Cross... i.e., in the sufferings of Christ.

Thinking about it that way, the things we and those around us suffer, are, if you will, the "stations" of our own crosses.

Thinking about it that way, it is possible to be "speeding on the subway, through the Stations of the Cross."

Thinking about it that way, I'm also reminded of the need to recognize the face of Christ in all those who suffer. Indeed... in everyone. The people on the street corner. The people in my church, and my office. The people I saw walking down the street this afternoon. My family. My friends. The people I walk with and even talk to, those I know and those I don't, to whom I am bound by our common humanity - but who I do not truly see. The people who are so often invisible to me.

Peace, and all good.

where are you going?

I've been sitting in front of the computer for an hour tonight, with noooooo idea what to write about. I asked God for some kind of inspiration, and then proceeded to surf a few of my favorite science news sites, and a few of my favorite Catholic sites... to no avail. I was about to just cash it in and write something short about nothing in particular, and logged in to try and get it over with! I clicked into my post listing, and started perusing my collection of ideas for future posts (whenever I have an idea, I try to put the bare bones into a draft post and save it). I came across the idea in boldface below, and something clicked - in part because I brought this up in my post about the HHS Mandate, and in part because it also meshed well with my post from yesterday, as well.

Where we have been is nowhere near as important as where we are going.

That is not to say that where we have been is completely unimportant - I think we all know that is not true. All of our experiences, the good, the bad, (and the ugly!) shape us into who we are and how we approach life. The bad are hard - they cause us to suffer. Hopefully, though, they motivate us to some higher good, instead of leaving us in bitterness and anger - which speaks to the "where we are going" - I have free will, and can choose what direction I will go next. Do I choose to do good even when evil has been done to me? Have you ever been in that kind of situation? I know I have, and I know how hard it is to choose good, because I know how many times I've failed to.

But for those of us who are Catholic, I think the most striking example of the importance of where we are going vs. where we have been is in the Sacrament of Confession. Eh? Think about it. You walk into Confession, carrying whatever sin you have committed, and when you leave, it's gone. Who you were is no longer who you are. Where you are going is now more important than where you have been, by the grace of God. It's easy for us to forget that, and I think even easier to forget it during Lent, when we're trying so hard, and often feeling that we're struggling to move forward.

Keep the faith, and keep moving forward, one step at a time. Peace, and all good!

"even the winter"

OK, I realize some of you were probably expecting me to write a post about "Pi Day" (since it is 3.14), and I'm sorry to disappoint... but no posting about pi today. Pi will merit a post at some point, I'm sure, but it's just not today.

What I've really been thinking about today: how's your Lent going? Awesome, holding strong? Wavering, feeling a little tired? Are you feeling more like you're in a spiritual winter, cold and dark, than walking in the springtime?

If you feel like it might as well be snowing in your soul these days, here's a little shot of awesome from Audrey Assad ("Even The Winter"):

"Even the winter won't last forever, 

we'll see the morning, 

we'll feel the sun, 

we'll wake up in April, 

ready and able, 

holding the seeds in the soil of our love"

We're just over halfway through our Lenten journey. Only two more Sundays of Lent before Palm Sunday. Holy Week is coming quickly, and I am so excited for it - no, not because it will mean Lent is over - but because Holy Week is probably my favorite week of the year (and Holy Thursday may well be my favorite day of the entire year - yep, that's another one of those posts for another time, kind of things).

Lent has been a completely different experience for me this year, for reasons I don't fully know, and can't explain well. Quite an interesting journey in every area of my life. That's certainly not to say that it hasn't been challenging, because it has, and it's also not to say that I haven't struggled, because I have. In all honesty, today has been the hardest, most challenging day of Lent for me so far. It's hard to go deeper in faith, it's hard for us to strive to seek Christ more deeply with all of the distractions around us, and it's hard to break down the pride that keeps us from loving those around us as we should.

So if you're struggling, keep the faith, because the rest of us are struggling, too. Besides (more of "Even The Winter"):

"What if the spring comes soon, 

and we're surprised?

What if the seasons help us realize

some things are only proven over time, you know?"

For us, Lent is just a small part of our journey - a small part of our being "proven over time." 40 days. 

+pace e bene, mi amici :)

the speed of time

"Unchained Melody" is one of my favorite love songs, because "lonely rivers flow to the sea" and "Godspeed your love to me." Forget all of the associations this song has with the movie "Ghost," because that has nothing to do with why I love the song, and also nothing to do with this post. :-)

I got to dance with my husband to this song at the reception after the wedding we photographed on Saturday, and it's been in and out of my mind since then. And I realized something. Some of its words just  aren't true, or at least not to me, right now.

"And time goes by, so slowly..."

Time goes so fast, I sometimes find myself wanting to slow it down - in part, because the second half of that line, "and time can do so much," is so, so very true.

I was in St. Bernadette's this afternoon, spending some time in prayer, when I realized how much of this year is already gone, and how much has already happened within it. The next thought-prayer that went through my head was, "My God, why does it have to go so fast?"

So much happens each day. So many people touch my life, and in so many ways - but how often do these things happen so quickly that I don't fully recognize them?

How many times do I wish I could slow down a conversation, whether an hour or an afternoon, to linger there longer, to remain in those moments?

How hard is it to realize that, just as time passes away so quickly, changing everything, it's changing me, too - as well as those whom I hold dear. And what of those who touched my life, even briefly, and were carried away from me in time, on another path?

The eternal God created us as temporal beings, tied to the passing of time in our temporary earthly dwellings, yet bearing an immortal soul. Is that immortal soul the reason I often wish to slow it all down? Is it the soul's longing for eternity - i.e., a place outside of time? What a mystery it is...

Life in temporal uncertainty, not knowing what the next day will bring - but with certain hope for eternity.

+peace, and all good... and below, "Unchained Melody" ;-)

"it is right and just"

"It is right and just." You've heard those words before, quite likely yesterday if you attended Mass, perhaps today if you've been to daily Mass. You're probably thinking I'm back for Round Two of "stuff the geek girl thinks is really cool in the new Mass." If you missed Round One, you can check it out, with the "dewfall," here.

And although I do think "it is right and just" is really cool in the context of the Mass, no, that's not what this post is not going to be about the new translation. We'll get back to that (I promise!), just not today.

This post is about courage and cowardice, about knowing what is right and just, and defending that which is right and just against the evil of injustice. What am I talking about?

Well, you knew I had to bring it up sometime: the HHS Mandate. Yeah, you know the one. That nasty, infringing-on-religious-freedom mandate requiring Catholic employers to fund insurance coverage for contraception, and sterilization procedures. So many have said it, and it's time for me to lend my voice to the crowd: this mandate is wrong, it is evil, and it must be stopped.

Not simply because of what it requires (coverage of drugs and procedures that the Church finds morally offensive), but because of what it does and the precedent it sets.

What does it do? It violates our consciences. It violates our religious freedom. It is essentially the government telling us what to consider moral and immoral, what is right and just. It is the government trying to dictate to us the definition of truth.

That, my friends, is something the Constitution of the United States of America tells us the government cannot do. But then, who really cares about the Constitution anymore, right? It's just a dusty, old piece of parchment that's so behind the times. Kind of like what they say about the Catholic Church, right? So behind the times. 

For the record, I am a Catholic WOMAN who is married, works full-time, and has a master's degree in engineering. I support women's rights; had it not been for the efforts of many people to gain those rights for women, I would have been denied many opportunities. If I'd lived in the time of Susan B. Anthony, I probably would've been right out there with her, working for women's suffrage. However, I don't support the supposed "right" of women to kill their children (another post for another time), and neither do I support the HHS Mandate's requirement of Catholic organizations to fund coverage for birth control and sterilization. It's not about women's health or women's rights, my friends. I'm sorry, but it's just not. Birth control is readily and cheaply available to anyone who wants it, despite what some have claimed (just Google the name Sandra Fluke if you don't know what I'm talking about!).

Nor is this some kind of "war on women." No, certainly not. If this is a war on anything, it's a war on the Church. Reminder: the Church did not instigate this controversy. The Church did not cause this mandate to be written, or declare war on women. No, the Church is simply doing what she must do, and defending her teachings and beliefs, from a major attack.

Ultimately, this is about religious freedom, and we should all be grateful that many people of diverse backgrounds are recognizing it. Would we ever pass a law that would require people of other faiths to violate the tenets of their belief? It's a question that must be asked, and I believe that these non-Catholics who are standing up against this mandate are indeed asking it - because if they can do it to us, they can do it to anyone. What, or who, will be next?

I live in the Archdiocese of Santa Fe, and our bishop, Archbishop Michael Sheehan, put it well: "People of faith cannot be made second-class citizens."

Some Catholics have criticized the bishops of the United States for what they have perceived as a lack of courage in standing up and speaking out on a wide variety of issues up to now. I would tell you this: I believe that our Lord does not care where we have been so much as He cares where we are going. Now is no time for division. We need to move forward in unity with our bishops, who are, at this very moment, defending what is right and just. It's the only way we're going to win this battle.

Pray for our bishops. Pray for each other. Pray that we may all have the strength to do what we must, in courage and in love, to uphold what is right and just. Because the HHS Mandate is neither right, nor just. 


+Peace, and all good. May the courage of Christ be with you this day and always.

nothing but blue skies

We woke up to snow this morning - not much, maybe 0.5" at the most. In true NM fashion, it was almost completely melted by the time we went to Mass, and was totally gone by the time Mass was over, about noon. It was a gorgeous day - dusting of snow still on the Sandias, warm enough that even I didn't need a jacket outside, and a few clouds in bright, bright, blue skies.

I was out for a run this afternoon - couldn't pass up the amazing weather - looking at those blue skies, and the obvious geek girl blog post crossed my mind.

What makes the sky blue?

So, I'm going to geek out on you tonight, and explain this. Hopefully you weren't looking for me to offer any deep non-scientific thoughts this evening. ;-)

What makes the sky blue... is a phenomenon known as Rayleigh scattering. Basically, light from the sun enters the atmosphere and is scattered by molecules in the atmosphere. To get technical, this scattering is inversely proportional to the light's wavelength raised to the fourth power. That pretty much means that, the shorter the wavelength, the greater the scattering effect.

Blue light is on the shorter end of wavelengths in the visible region of the spectrum, and so blue light scatters more when it enters the atmosphere - it scatters all over the sky, causing it to appear blue. The yellow/red wavelengths are not scattered as strongly, and so travel a straighter path to our eyes, and the sun itself appears yellowish red.

When the sun is low on the horizon, like at sunrise or sunset, its rays have to pass through a much greater mass of atmosphere to reach our eyes than at midday. Greater mass of atmosphere = more molecules = more scattering possibilities - the blue wavelengths are scattered so intensely, they largely scatter away from our field of view. We see the longer wavelengths left behind... and the sunset is red, or pink, or yellow, etc...

There ya go. Science lesson for the weekend. Peace, and all good for your Sunday evening! +

weddings

I love weddings. But then really, I think most of us do.


For the past few years, I've been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to photograph many weddings. Today I had that opportunity again - this time, I was photographing the wedding of a friend I've known for many years. She and her new husband are full of love for one another and for life, and I know they will share wonderful, blessed years together. (Should the happy couple be reading this: congrats again, my friends! May God bless you always.)


I love weddings in part because every time I go to a wedding, I remember my own. It was an exceptional day, as all wedding days should be. I also have to laugh a bit, because wow! There's the wedding, and then there's the marriage, and it's so... interesting... to look at how things evolve over time. Marriage is a wonderful gift that does not come without its challenges. As those of you who are married know well, marriage requires hard work, dedication, understanding, and sometimes, willingness to share the blankets on the bed! George Bernard Shaw described it wryly, and well: "Marriage is an alliance entered into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut, and a woman who can't sleep with the window open." (So true in my house, it's not even funny!) 


But in all seriousness, marriage is a gift, not only because we get to spend the rest of our lives with our best friends, whom we love, but also because we have to work each day to keep loving them. Sometimes, that's not so easy, but I think we all know that there is merit in doing things that aren't easy. In other words, marriage is a gift that keeps on giving, as long as we allow it to. 


As the priest who celebrated the wedding Mass I was at today noted wisely, "Great marriages are not made in heaven. They're made right here, on earth." 


+peace, and all good!

God laughs, again.

What. A. Week. It was crazy. It was incredibly busy. But it was also very blessed.

And I am now incredibly tired! This week pretty much got lost at work - seriously. Fridays are usually pretty quiet and kind of slow, but this week, Friday came like a train going 150 mph. I got to work at 6:30 this morning, and didn't leave until... 5:00 this evening. Mmmhmmm, so much for an easy Friday.

Thinking about yesterday's post, yeah, almost all of my "plans" for today ended up tossed by the wayside.

Leaving work early? Hahahahaha! Riiiiight!! Try 5:00.

Having a nice, calm day at work, tying up loose ends from the week, responding to emails, analyzing some data? Not gonna happen, not today!

Running some important samples this afternoon? Ahhhh, hahahaha... forget about it, geek girl!!! Watch the vacuum pumps on your spectrometer crash! Those samples will just have to wait until next week.

No, I can't lie, today had its frustrations, but although I was definitely ready to go home by 5:00, I still felt like it really had been a good day.

Anymore, for me, the silver lining in each day is the people I share it with - my family, my friends, my coworkers (who are really in the "friends" category, anyways!). Seriously. The best people in the world are the ones I've been blessed to have in my life. All of them.

Today, as I was driving home, I was specifically thinking about my coworkers. They're wonderful, and sometimes they're crazy, and sometimes they challenge me. We don't all share the same beliefs, but we do share a common respect for one another. We help each other, we face problems together, we support each other, we laugh together, and sometimes we are sad or frustrated together, too. I know I am incredibly, incredibly blessed to say I work with such a phenomenal group of people, and I am grateful for that - and for them. It's true, the best things in life aren't things, they're people.

God laughed at almost all of my plans for today. Despite the long day, I came out with something much better than leaving at 3:30 - a reminder of how grateful I should be for all the amazing people He has put in my life, my family, my friends/colleagues. He obviously knows what He's doing.

Oh yeah, as a side note: the only two things I'd planned to do today that DID go as planned? Making it to Mass, and Stations of the Cross. Further proof that God knows exactly what He is doing, all the time. Pace e bene! ;-)

when God laughs

God laughs at me. All the time. I'm quite sure of it.

He laughs at me when I get too serious, when I get too wrapped up in my own ideas of how things should go. You may have heard it said that, if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans! Needless to say, I'm sure I've contributed to some really good divine belly laughs. I've had many reminders of this lately - it almost seems like every time I plan on something, whether it's what I'm planning to do next week, or planning to leave work half an hour early, God mixes it up. Suddenly, my plans for next week include no element of what I'd thought they should. And I get called into a meeting that starts at 4:00, when I wanted to leave at 3:30. I think God mixes it up, in part to remind me of Who's really in control here, and perhaps in part to challenge me to be obedient when He switches things up.

Yes, God laughs at me, when I fail to laugh with Him - which happens more often than it doesn't. As Adele puts it, I am so often "rolling in the deep" that I fail to see that I could be laughing in the light. Yes, faith and hope and love go deep. Deeper than we can imagine. But if we are too serious to gain joy from what God shows us, then really, what's the point? Really?!?! We are people of joy, because we are people of the Resurrection.

God laughs at me. All the time. I'm quite sure of it. Most of the time, I laugh well after the fact, but I'd much rather be able to laugh with Him. I hope someday I will.

+peace, and all good, friends!

peace: a gift, and a choice

"Real and right and true will turn into

secret peace in inside the heart of you, 

sweet, secret peace..."

-Neil Finn, Sweet Secret Peace

Peace. It's a funny thing. No, I'm not talking about that "world peace" everyone wants - I'm talking about that deep, true, assured calm within, that comes from what is "real, right, and true." Peace is more than just saying "everything will be OK."

Peace seems like such a hard thing to find, and an even harder thing to keep... particularly in a world that moves so fast, and which is also so broken. Think about all the broken things we carry around in our lives, in particular, the broken relationships. I'm sure we all have at least one - and if you don't, you're very, very fortunate - that would be an incredible blessing.

Ultimately, peace is a gift from God (who is real, right, and true!), but it is a gift we must choose to accept. I really believe this, particularly when I think about the way my days go, and the things that can perturb it. When something comes along to rattle me, and I don't pause for a moment to consider it, I lose that state of peace and get frustrated, or impatient, or generally upset and caught up in all that brokenness. If I think about it, if I am mindful of the challenge being presented to me, I can choose the accept the path of peace instead. It's part of the reason I end my blog posts with the (traditionally Franciscan) words "peace, and all good" - a reminder of the path I should choose, although I so often do not.

Have you ever read the book The Gift Of Peace? It's a beautiful book, written by Joseph Cardinal Bernardin as he was dying of pancreatic cancer. In the last chapter, he says:

"What I would like to leave behind is a simple prayer that each of you may find what I have found - God's special gift to us all: the gift of peace. When we are at peace, we find the freedom to be most fully who we are, even in the worst of times."

What truth. When we are at peace, we find the freedom to be most fully who we are, even in the worst of times. Cardinal Bernardin chose to accept the gift of peace. May we do so, as well. He ended his book with the Prayer of St. Francis, and so I will end this post with it:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

+peace, and all good.

monday, on a tuesday

There are Mondays, and then, in my world, there are Tuesdays. Mondays are always hard for me, because I'm usually coming off some great weekend high, and then blahhhhhh... there's Monday.

But then there are Tuesdays. Mondays may be rough, but Tuesdays are an exercise in sheer endurance. Partly because two days into the week, it's impossible to declare even partial victory over the week (like you can on Wednesdays, when you're at least halfway through!). And partly because on Tuesdays... I'm in meetings. Almost all day long.

We have meetings. And meetings about other meetings.

Tuesday is the day that doesn't want to end, and today was no exception. I made the mistake of thinking I might be able to make it out the door by 4:00... nope, that'd be 5:30, folks! The things I'd hoped to take care of this afternoon, after work, all slipped away.

This may sound like a complaint, though I don't intend it to. Tuesdays are long days, but that doesn't mean they're bad days. I'm blessed to work with people I really do like and truly enjoy being around, and that makes meeting marathons much easier to get through. Granted, it can be difficult to actually do "real" work when I'm in meetings all day long - but - it's also good for all of us to come together, discuss progress, and share ideas on various projects and other things.

I suppose it's also a good exercise in patience and discipline, which is something I frequently forget when I'm sitting in a meeting, looking for a clock in the conference room that doesn't have one, trying to focus on the discussion, and praying for the end of the hour to come quickly! :-P  Or at 3:55, as I'm starting to think I might be able to leave at 4:00, and someone comes by and pulls me into a 4:00 meeting. There goes the trip to the post office. Or stopping in at the church that's right on my way home to spend a few quiet moments in reflection on the day.

But, as I've been reminded before, one of the most important things I can do when I'm out in the world is to be present to whatever circumstance I'm in, and to be an example of the love of God to those I am with. I do so poorly at this, and how I hope to do better! I keep praying that I really will become more patient, and more present in all the things I do. And I keep failing, ha ha! Maybe it's good that some of those conference rooms don't have clocks... and maybe someday I won't care to look for one.

+peace, and all good.

uncertainty, in principle

If you're even a little familiar with quantum physics and chemistry, you've probably heard of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle.

Basically, it goes something like this: there are certain pairs of variables that cannot be precisely measured at the same time. Sounds a little weird, I know. The classic example is position and momentum - so what we're saying is that if you know precisely where something is at (it's position), you cannot precisely measure its momentum simultaneously. And vice versa. The uncertainty principle effectively says there are some physical things that, under certain circumstances (and here, on a quantum level), science can't measure.

It follows that there is no way to completely, 100% describe the state of the universe at a specific instant via scientific measurement.

Interesting thought, isn't it? The implications there are worth pondering - and I'd love to ponder a little more here this evening, but I'm not going to lie - it's been a long day, and I think it's time to get some rest.

So I'll leave you to ponder, and revisit this another time.

That's my quick hit for Monday night. :-)

+peace, and all good.

waking on the other side

About a month and a half ago, my family lost a great aunt who was very dear to me. She was 95, and had lived a full, beautiful life of love, family, and faith.

Aunt Ruth was a convert to the Catholic faith - she received her first communion at her wedding Mass. I remember the story she told about the first time she ever set foot in a Catholic church - it was at the beginning of a date with my great uncle Robert. He stopped at the church (I believe it was Immaculate Conception, the church in which they were later married), and told her he needed to go in and light a candle for his mother, who had died several years before. She went in with him, sat in the back pew and waited for him, and it was there, she said, that for the first time in her life, she felt the presence of God.

She was a beautiful person, and I was blessed to have had her in my life. I can only hope that I can be a better person because of her example.

The morning after I learned of her passing from this life, I was in the car, on my way to work. The early morning darkness was just beginning to lighten as night was giving way to day, and the sky over the Sandias was a brilliant, dark cobalt blue.

The first thought that crossed my mind as I looked at that ethereal blue, framing the mountain crest, was, "Oh God, she will never see that sky again."

That was immediately countered by, "But, I wonder what it must be like to wake up in eternity?"

And my God, isn't that the more important thing? To wake up in a joyful eternity? For the comparatively dark night of our human life and death to pass seamlessly into the dawning everlasting light - just like that early morning's darkness was met by the kiss of day's first light?

It's beyond the reach of science, beyond the depth of human wisdom - it's further than we can reach alone.

Eternal rest grant unto her, Oh Lord; let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace.


+peace, and all good.

"sing it out..."

"Sing it out,  boy, you've got to see what tomorrow brings

Sing it out, girl, you've got to be what tomorrow needs

For every time that they want to count you out

Use your voice every single time you open up your mouth

Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls

Every time that you lose it, sing it for the world

Sing it from the heart, sing it 'til you're nuts

Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts

Sing it for the deaf, sing it for the blind

Sing about everyone that you left behind

Sing it for the world, sing it for the world

... ... ... 

You've got to make a choice, if the music drowns you out

And raise your voice every single time they try and shut your mouth ... "

-- My Chemical Romance, "Sing"

Yeah, I'm listening to this song tonight. Between "Sing," and "Dog Days Are Over," (Florence and the Machine), and "City of Blinding Lights" - (because U2 is necessary, my friends) - and quite a few others, I have (what I think is) an awesome soundtrack for my evening. 

I've been sipping a lovely glass of Alamos Malbec, and giving thanks for answered prayers. I'm celebrating, yes, celebrating even in the midst of Lent. 

I learned a lesson today. I've been praying for a specific person, and a specific issue, for several days, and in the last day or so, had been very concerned with how it was all going to turn out. I apologize for being cryptic, but hope you will understand when I say that sometimes, these things cannot be shared directly. :-)  In any case, I was starting to get worried, and even scared - my trust in God was shaking a bit. Okay, a lot. This afternoon, I forced myself to make an act of faith/trust - Lord, whatever you will, I know it will be for the best, help me to see that and trust it - even if I can't understand it. 

Within a couple of hours, everything had resolved and became clear - the resolution was beautiful, although yes indeed, it was/is slightly painful - but I was at peace, and joyful, again. (Hence, the celebratory Malbec!!! Completely warranted, even in Lent!!!! Note, I did NOT give up wine for Lent. This is for a reason, folks!)

Basically, God came through, in a way I had completely not been expecting. It actually caught me totally off guard - I was shocked. And then incredibly happy, because I could see the goodness of God at work. Yep, the "Dog Days Are Over"... again. At least for now. 

So, you ask, why the lyrics to the song? Well, because this afternoon made me want to "sing it out." We do, indeed, need to see what tomorrow brings - we must hope for tomorrow and all its gifts, whether we perceive them beforehand or not. We also have to be what tomorrow needs, even when we don't know what that is - because that is what faith calls us to, and we don't know to whom we will be called to give a reason for our hope and faith. It could be a completely different person, or group of people, tomorrow than it is today. We are called to hope, and faith, even when the hand of God is veiled from us, and we don't immediately perceive what He is doing. God calls us to "sing it out" for everyone - the girls, the boys, the deaf, the blind, the entire world. 

+ peace, and all good, my friends!!  

"wherever you go"

A week and a half into Lent... how are we all doing? The past several days have been even crazier than usual for me - which seems to happen often during Lent - and this year is, thus far, no exception. 


And of course, the only day I want a turkey burger or a sausage breakfast burrito is... Friday. 


But other than that, life in the Lenten desert is moving forward, one day at a time. I hope and pray that all of you are moving forward in your journeys, at peace. 


At Stations of the Cross this evening, I found myself reflecting on the idea that God became man to give us the example of His love - ultimate love - sacrificial love - knowing that some of us would still reject that gift. He chose to pursue us, knowing that some would run away. On the way home afterward, I was listening to Audrey Assad's new album, and I'll leave you this evening with lyrics from her song, "Wherever You Go" - which is about how God pursues us, wherever we go:

"... I'm coming for you, wherever you go.

Across the sea, the space between, 

everything you think you know, 

the things you keep and bury deep 

underneath the melting snow, I'll follow..." 

+peace, and all good, friends.

thursday evening thoughts

Ah, the end of the week. I have Friday off, and just in time. It's been a long, tiring four days this week, and I'm ready for the weekend.

So tonight I'll be brief, since it's late, and I'm fading fast. A few quick, and probably disjointed-sounding thoughts:

1) I work with the best people in the world. Really, I am thoroughly convinced of this fact, and become moreso every day. They're awesome, and I don't deserve to work with them.

2) Sometimes the longest, hardest weeks, are the most rewarding, even when you didn't get everything finished that you'd hoped to.

3) In the midst of craziness and potential stress in my life, I need an escape hatch - a parachute - a sanctuary. We all have to have at least one. I know what, and where, mine are. Do you? When I caught a brief moment of freedom in my eleven hour workday today, I escaped to one of them for a few minutes. It never seems like long enough, but it's long enough when it's all the time you have. It's long enough when you have those moments to regroup, reflect, and pray.

4) I'm grateful for the craziness of life, because in some sense, it keeps things interesting - it keeps things moving. And it keeps pushing me forward, reminding me that I have been issued challenges that I must meet, because there's something to accomplish. It also reminds me that there is One who is greater that does the moving, and who intends to accomplish much greater things than those I worry about in the day to day.

+peace, and all good!