Needy

I don't often write poems anymore, let alone post them publicly. But when the urge to write one does come along, it's fast and furious,  and more often than not they come out almost ready-made.


This one encompasses nicely everything I took away from the retreat, and the direction I'm trying to go in now. Enjoy.

Needy
January 11, 2012

I need

To think.

To

Slow down,

Breathe in;

To look up and search for those

Little streaks of You

That I see mixed in, just barely,

In the paint of the night sky.

I need

To remember.

To dig deep,

Wake up;

To shake off the haze of this

Complacent status quo

That I built, like a wall

Around my fragile faith.

I need

To let go.

To realize Your love is the strength

Running through my veins

That I receive even if

It’s the last thing I deserve.

I need

To accept.

…That I am not an island in this world.

…That life is never perfect,

…That I am not perfect.

But even so,

I am Yours.

And for that,

I am beautiful.

Little Voice

If I had a nickel for every time someone made a reference to the "still, small voice" of God, I wouldn't need to work anymore.

Most of the time, my skeptic heart has dismissed the phrase. To me, language like that is just a pretty way of saying that God doesn't really speak at all.

But on retreat, I came to a different conclusion that somehow makes more sense, at least in my mind.

One of the seminarians who traveled with us gave a talk about the value of meditation and how to get started. As a Pagan, I meditated often, but the sort Catholics speak of is very different. Eastern-style meditation seeks to empty the mind of all thoughts, but in our spirituality, we open ourselves to whatever wispy ideas come along. Those, the seminarian said, could be God's way of reaching out to us.

Of course, I thought that was a bunch of hokey, too. But when our quiet hour came, I gave it a try.

Walking the grounds of the retreat house is always a spiritual experience in itself. Running downhill with the sun on my back and the wind in my hair, everything around me screamed of Him. I may be a skeptic, but as my father told me once, "You can't look around at all this and not believe there is Someone who made it all, and who cares for us."

God cares so deeply for His creation, for us; so much, in fact, that He's woven Himself so tightly into the fabric of this world that you almost miss it. He's so much a part of our world that His voice is no longer booming, but subtle and saturated into everything around us. We experience Him daily in a million little ways.

This is a new revelation for me. It's like Samuel hearing the voice of God, but thinking it was someone else speaking as we heard this weekend ... those pesky thoughts that "interrupt" our time with Him are often truly His way of speaking. Our supernatural, extraordinary, divine God has chosen to reveal Himself in natural, ordinary, very human ways.

He gave us the gift of the Holy Spirit and the gift of reason. We have an innate desire to do good. And more often than not, intuition will show us where to go. It may not be a burning bush, and He may not appear in flesh, but He does appear and speak all the time. He speaks through us.

All we need to do is listen, like Samuel did.

More like falling in love...

I came back from retreat on Sunday afternoon, and have spent large chunks of time since then trying to unpack everything that happened there.

It was not the easiest weekend, but at the same time, I'm extremely glad I went. Being in an unfamiliar group with a different priest stretched me out of my comfort zone. Thankfully, I'm social and got to know lots of great people.

More importantly, though, the only one I really had to lean on was God.

I ran from Him for the longest time, even after I came back to my faith. I didn't want to change. I didn't want to see everything in my heart that needed fixing. Perhaps the biggest reason was personal: I blamed Him for circumstances in my life that weren't His fault.

For so long, then, I associated God with a host of negative things. I knew that, but was too afraid to face it. It would hurt too much. But this weekend, I allowed myself to get to the bottom of all of that, and when I did, I found Him waiting with open arms.

We are building from the ground up a relationship that began six years ago out of confusion and desperation. It was a broken relationship from the start because, in so many ways, I was broken.

Little by little, I'm finding that brokenness is fading. My flaws are many, but He has healed and continues to heal me of so much.

Retreat allowed me to open myself to His love in a way I was never able to before. At one point, alone in front of the tabernacle, I thanked Him for that ... but the answer I got wasn't what I expected at all:

Thank you for letting Me in. It's about time.

I hope this is only the beginning.


As with most things, this song says it much better than I can.

Thou Shalt Laugh!

Before I leave for retreat, here's a silly video. I typically find "Christian" comedy extremely lame, but this made me smile. This is Michael Jr. of Thou Shalt Laugh. Thanks to Brian for passing this on. :)

Have a good weekend, everybody.

Down the Rabbit Hole

Merry Christmas, happy new year, and apologies for being so quiet over the Christmas season...

I spent the last two weeks with family, friends, and an exorbitant amount of food. And I walked into 2012 a few pounds heavier.

More than that, though, I am a touch holier than I was at the beginning of Advent. Let me explain:

When you really love another person, there's often this compulsion to be different, be better, for their sake. They have given you so much, they deserve so much, yet all the ways you can think of to show your gratitude feel ... inadequate.

That sense of inadequacy hit me hard over this vacation, both in the ways God has loved me and the ways others have. Over and over again, He has given me more than I could ask for.

This new year, I marked six years since I gave my life to Christ. Until recently, I thought I was doing pretty well. Perhaps I am. But lately, I have learned just how abysmally far I have yet to go.

That frustrates me. And I'm thinking it's time for some progress.

This weekend, I'm going on retreat with a group of young adults I've spent only a short time with. I don't know them well at all, and am admittedly uneasy about sharing my heart with mere acquaintances.

Too, there's the daunting realization that, while there, I have to face Him alone once more. Being one half of a spiritual team has become so natural to me -- it is my eventual vocation, after all. The departure from that, however brief, is a bit nerve wracking.

Being alone with God is usually too much for me to handle. If I can avoid Him, I will. And I have.

But this walk is all about seeing ourselves for who we are, and not the puffed-up delusion we imagine for ourselves. It's only when we own up to how badly we need Him that He can truly work.

My only goal this year is to emerge a little stronger, and a little more worthy of the name "Christian." An ambitious goal, maybe, but it's long overdue.

So I'll do what I dread and face this retreat, even if it hurts. Everything worth having is worth the struggle ... and a better, healthier, more joyful me is more than worth it.

Please pray for me.

Advent Music Monday: Future of Forestry

On this last Monday of Advent, all that's left is the harrowing journey to Bethlehem.

This song, part of a special Advent EP by alt-rock band Future of Forestry, reflects on what the journey must have been like for the Holy Family.

I stumbled upon this track through Spotify, and was pleasantly surprised at how perfectly it closes the Advent season. Not too shabby, for an indie band. ;)

Paving the Way

While I primarily use Magnificat magazine to pray the Liturgy of the Hours (or at least something similar), I absolutely love their daily meditations.

A few weeks ago, there was a meditation by the late German Benedictine sister Aemiliana Lohr that really got me thinking. It was rather long, so I'll summarize it for you.

When ancient kings went on a journey, they would often spend days at a time on rough, bumpy roads, which was exceedingly uncomfortable. To deal with this, the king's slaves traveled ahead of him, smoothing out all those bumps and clearing obstructions. In this way, the king had an easy path on which to travel.

The cry of John the Baptist is a simple one: "Prepare the way of the Lord! Make straight His paths!"

And that is exactly what we're to do in this Advent season, Sr. Lohr wrote.

Since reading that, an image has stuck with me that I've been unable to shake. Hills and valleys ... that's the way life is on a daily basis. And, too, so it is with my heart.

I thought I knew a fair bit about God -- who He is, what He wants of me. But to my horror, I've learned recently that the image I had of Him was backward. As much as I write here about His mercy and love, I never really embraced it for myself.

Scripture says that mountains will crumble and valleys rise up to meet Him. I see so many of those in myself. So many wounded places. I love my rough edges, but the King can't pass through as long as the way is blocked, right?

I think I'm finally ready to let God be who He wants to be: not my enemy, but my Healer.

It's already started, and the strides have been unlike anything I've ever experienced in my walk before. It's amazing what can be accomplished if we just let Him. Like Mary, saying, "Let it be done."

Maybe by Christmas, there will be a place in me for Him.

Advent Music Monday: Francesca Battistelli

Sneaking in for the last hour of this Monday for the 3rd week of Advent, here's your video for the week.

Francesca Battistelli is a vocal powerhouse who broke into the Christian music scene just a few years ago, and since then she's been writing honest, catchy melodies that keep me coming back to her.

Every now and then, though, we're treated to a more reflective side of Franny. It's in those moments that I think her gift is truly evident.

This song was actually written by Nichole Nordeman, another rare female gem in the Christian world. While I realize I posted a Marian song for last week, too, there's no better time to reflect on Our Lady. Besides, it was just too beautiful to pass up...

Gaudete!

Advent Music Monday: Sara Groves

I've been working through a series of brief Advent reflections in the Little Blue Book this season, part of the wonderful series of Little Books for the liturgical year.

The reflection for yesterday was about Mary, and the humble circumstances that led to her becoming the Mother of God.

I'll be the first to admit that my devotion to Our Lady could be a lot stronger, likely due to the time I spent with Protestant leanings. But it's this time of year that draws me closest to her. As someone with a vocation to marriage and motherhood, it's easy to identify with the fear and wonder she experienced in those final weeks before the birth of her Son.

That image of Mary, so beautifully and blessedly human, seems more real than any other title or honor we give her.

Don't misunderstand me -- every aspect of hers is amazing.. But the simplicity and trust she gives to God in those early days, and on a daily basis afterward, speaks volumes to me.

This week, I'm sharing the song that first inspired me to reconsider Christianity. It's so honest and full of emotion ... I can imagine Mary praying these words as she prepared for the long journey to Bethlehem.

Enjoy.

Welcome to the Advent music series!

Advent is upon us once again, and that means I get to share some great tunes. :) I did this last year with Advent Music Mondays and am looking forward to doing it again. Excuse it being a Thursday this week -- it just means you'll get two videos a few days apart. Not so bad.

To kick off the season right, here are guitarist Trace Bundy and Christian folk-rocker Josh Garrels doing the Advent hymn par excellence.