Silence

             The prairie grass waved as the wind cooled the walkway; the green expanse was freckled only by clouds’ shadows. The natural beauty of the plains was broken only by classic wooden farmhouses and the red brick buildings were we slept. These stunning surroundings seeped into my soul, as beauty tends to do when we allow ourselves to be immersed in it. That weekend, in the silence imposed by the retreat, I was absorbed by the wonders of creation. The quiet created a space within myself to slow down and really look: to look more closely at my own life and relationship with Christ, as the retreat intended, as well as at the beauty around me.

Read the rest here.

God's Will

            In the past year, my family has driven to my sister-in-law’s house in Fayetteville multiple times.  Once, we drove out through the plains on I-40 before heading north in the Ozark’s, but usually we stop to see my mother and father-in-law in Tulsa on the way. From Tulsa to Fayetteville, we’ve taken state highways offering a glimpses of the wooded mountains and meandered our way slowly through trees and lakes. We have re-adjusted our route after making a wrong turn.  Each time, we have happily arrived at our destination and a warm welcome.

            The freedom to travel different paths to the same destination is the same freedom with which God gives us to live our lives. We can choose which path we want to take on the way to our destination, which is (hopefully) heaven. We can even make a wrong turn but still end up at the right place, sometimes by completely re-routing our path.  While there are wrong paths, there are also many right ones that can lead us to our ultimate destination.

Read the rest here.

Belonging

“St. Mark the Evangelist,” the canter rings out while children and their parents file to the back of the large, suburban parish. 

            “Pray for us,” the congregation echoes back, as we prepare to welcome a new member.  A dark-haired, sleeping baby girl is about to be awoken with the waters of baptism.  I recognize her parents as fellow parishioners, though I have never met them. 

            After the baptism has taken place, the priest carries the newly baptized, now dressed in white, to the front of the church; as he walks, he says this is the first of four times she will come down this aisle in white: the first at baptism, again at first communion, later for marriage, and, at the end, for her funeral. 

            This aisle, he says.  Not an aisle, at a church, but this aisle, at this church—the aisle I was about to walk down for the first time, as a bride, after reluctantly becoming a parishioner where my parents had joined after I left for college.

Sofia's baptism

Read the rest here.

Loneliness

            When I was a single adult, the loneliness didn’t come on Valentine’s Day, when I showed up alone to a wedding, or when I saw an engagement on Facebook.  But, like for most single people, it was still a presence in my life.  For me, it came while walking through a neighborhood, houses full of families, or when trying to make a major decision about my life, realizing the outcome affected me much more than anyone else. 

            Following Monsignor Luigi Giussani’s instructions in his book The Religious Sense, I used my emotions as “binoculars” to look more closely at my life. Giussani, founder of the ecclesial lay movement Communion and Liberation, wrote, “Let us imagine feeling as a kind of lens; the object is carried closer to a person’s cognitive energy by this lens so that reason can know it more easily and securely.”

Read the rest here.

And my article on beauty and the church here. 

Home

            Like all kids growing up, at times I felt out of place—at school, at church, with friends and even in my own family.  In early elementary school, I longed to play the more organized games of the “big kids,” making myself out of place with my peers but not belonging with the older students.  Like many others, this feeling grew as I entered the awkward stage of life that is adolescence and was bolstered by the themes of many coming of age stories.  Like Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye and the Disney classic Beauty and the Beast, the account many young people hear is that leaving home—especially for those from small towns and the middle of the country—is the path to success and shedding the feeling of not fitting in.  

The beginning of my latest column.  Read the rest here.

(And if you like the topic, check out Front Porch Republic)

What I'm Reading

Now that's what I call diversity. 

A tome on the science and history of foods. 

A late-elementary kid's book that's delightful to read. Third book in a lovely series introduced to me by a former tutoring student. 

And a book on how to ensure my child is as creative, brilliant, and independent as possible.*

*JK. Totally recommend the Montessori methods of how to teach very small children- and how to set up their environment in a way conducive to learning. I mean, my little babe's playing used to largely consist of throwing everything she could on the floor. Now she will actually PLAY with her toys!

Oh, the lights! The carols! The guilt-free Santa cookies!

Already missing the magic of those celebratory twelve days full of gift-giving, feasting, New Year's toasts, and jingling bells?  Check out my article on Christmas traditions in other cultures.  It'll help with the January blues.

And if that doesn't, maybe the promise of spring will. 

(While you're at it, you may like Leah Darrow's message of love and prayer for Christian Unity.)