She Wolf

Overall, I am happier than I have been since the end of September.  I still have ups and downs, but the downs are far less frequent and less painful.  I attribute this turnaround to a variety of things, most important of which are:

-  a wonderful and relaxing Christmas break with my family, who love me no matter how much of a bitch I am and always accept me for me. :)

-  new plans for the future, which I may or may not disclose to you sometime in the next  few months.

-  frequent dancing and plans to dance much more in the coming weeks!

-  participation in my first non-high-school show: The Jungle Book at the Gemini Children's Theater in Homewood, in which I play Mother Wolf and the Monkey Queen.  Loads of fun, good experience for my desired career path, and motivation to do more theater this semester.  (also inspiration for the title of this blog.  though i do always listen to that song while i'm getting ready in the morning. :D)  and I am getting paid!  it just doesn't get any better, does it?

- a newly realistic, humble attitude toward my faith.  we all make mistakes.  i still love God.  but i'm still figuring stuff out, too, and i can't be perfect all the time.  no one can.

Oh, so serious!  But really, I am having a great time.  I love studying music, looking for performance opportunities (and finding them!) and having the self-confidence to be the person I've always wanted to be.  Hopefully I'll be writing more now that I'm not so depressed all the time. :)

***

If you have some kids you wanna bring to the Gemini, or you just wanna come see me yourself, the shows are every weekend this month and the first weekend of February.  Tickets are $9.50 each and the shows are Saturdays and Sundays at 1 and 3:30pm for a total of 4 shows/weekend.  I do not recommend coming if you are over the age of 8, since it is most definitely children's theater, but so many people have asked me about it, I thought I would post the info.   That being said, if you are under 8 years old, it is a raucously good time and I highly recommend coming!! 

***

First Snowfall!

For some reason, the first snowfall of the winter has always been a source of excitement for me.  Even my current, I-don't-like-talking-about-my-feelings, I-gag-when-I-hear-sappy-stuff me couldn't help feeling a surge of childish glee when I looked out my window and saw that it was snowing!!  Yes, although I've been going through a bit of an identity crisis lately, there are a few things that have stuck with me through it all:

1.  I love Him.  Especially in the Eucharist.  Continuing along this vein may lead to extremely sappy material, so I will now move on. ;)

2.  I am so frickin excited for Christmas!  I haven't felt this kind of anticipation for years.  It's not as simple as looking forward to the time off of school or the presents.  It's more an intense enjoyment of the very Christmasy things that I have the great pleasure of experiencing at this time every year.  Listening to Christmas carols, seeing lights and decor everywhere, making and eating Christmas cookies, being with my whole family all at once... all of it is such a delight...

3.  I love music and being a music major more than ever!  I feel that some wonderful and beautiful mystery is being revealed to me day by day as I struggle through my classes and homework.  So worth the time and effort, unlike other attempted branches of study...

So, imagine my excitement about tonight being the first of Heinz Chapel Choir's Christmas concerts!  Combining my two favorite things, Christmas and music... it looks to be a wonderful start to the holiday season. :D

Africa: I Miss It

"When I think of home, I think of a place where there's love overflowing.
I wish I was home, I wish I was back there with the things I've been knowing..."

I've said it before and I'll say it again; Africa feels like home to me.  I miss it so SO much; it is killing me that I am not there right now.  If someone offered me a one-way ticket to Ghana today, I would take it.
I have been home for about two and a half months now.  That must be how long it takes for me to register homesickness, cuz I'm really feelin' it now.

Here is what I miss most:
- the simple, unshakable faith of the people there
- the smiles
- the children (oh, my heart!!!)
- the drums and the dancing
- my mission team

Here is what I still don't miss:
- rice and red sauce
- latrines
- exhaust fumes

What I wouldn't give for the chance to go back to Dafor and visit the little school they have there, to hear the kids yell "Sistah Jen!" as they pull on my arms and clothes.  How I would love to hoist a headpan of cement onto my headcloth and work to finish that church!  What a joy it would be to to hear another of Fada's homilies, so penetrating and life-giving because of their deep simplicity!  How I miss those old ladies who tried to teach us Ewe and laughed at us every morning after Mass, those Mamas who were quite obviously the backbones of the village community, and those workmen who spoke to us in squeaky voices.  Hahaha and the finger snapping handshakes... I miss those.

I must go back to Africa.  I don't know when or how, but I must.  I have already been away from home for too long.

Surviving

I know I haven't posted in a long time.  It's actually because I haven't had anything positive to say.  My life has been... difficult lately, and a lot of mornings it's all I can do to pull myself out of bed to face another day.  I wish I could go into details and pour my heart out to you, readers, but it would just be so inappropriate.  Just please, keep me in your prayers.
Here are some things that are keeping me going:
- my family.  They are the best.  Really.  I don't know what I would do without them.  My mom and older sisters have been calling me with great frequency just to ask how I'm doing.  I have two wonderful brothers who are just amazing young men.  And that little sister of mine. She's such a sass, and I taught her everything she knows.  And she's getting so grown up and so beautiful!  But most especially, I am grateful for the gift of my father right now.  What a good man he is.  He has been so faithful to our family, so loving, so hardworking, so generous.  And when a girl's heart is lying in pieces around her, sometimes a hug from her daddy is just the thing to make it a little better...
- my faith.  Ya, it had to be said.  God and I are... maybe not as tight as we used to be.  But we still talk.  Honestly, it's Mamma Mary who's pulling me through this time.  And I know that she's very close to her Son/Husband/Father.  It's great how God is all three to her, isn't it?  So as long as I stay wrapped in her mantle... I think I'll be ok.
- music.  Yes, this also makes me cry a lot.  But more often it brings a sweet release of all the tensions and stresses of my life.  My favorite is to go into St. Paul's when no one else is there and just revel in the sound of my voice reverberating through the glorious space above my head.  It's like... releasing pieces of my soul.  My favorite right now is Bach's Ave Maria in the key of G major.  (I know that because after I finished singing I whipped out my tuning fork, which I always have with me now, and found what key I was in just by listening to A 440 and doing the math.  Hells yes, I am a music major now!!!  Also I just found out that that's the key it was originally published in.  It's a sign.) Today when I was singing there two people walked in and knelt down to pray in the middle of a song.  I wasn't sure what to do so... I finished the song.  Then I left feeling kind of embarrassed.  Usually I only let God hear me when I'm singing like that.
- my bird.  Sure, she bites me when I try to touch her, but every morning, she sings along to my alarm clock, and sometimes it's quite nice to wake up to birdsong.
- dancing!  I went to Chicken Swing at CMU last Thursday night and did some lindy hoppin'.  It was so lovely to forget about everything for a few hours and just dance.  I am also a regular attendee of the Panther Tango Club, which I love.  I think tango is my favorite kind of dance.  It's so passionate and tender.  Also the endorphines from these two excursions kept me in an "up" mood for several days.  The only drug I can afford...

Now I'd like to talk a little bit about school.  I have apparently stopped caring about it.  I haven't done homework in over a week.  Except for a little composition project.  Hells yes.  I am a music major now. ;) Anywho, this lack of caring about classes is especially unfortunate because my good side pleaded with my professors on Friday for extensions on all the papers and homeworks I haven't turned in, while the bad me doesn't give a damn and is blogging right now instead of working on her long-overdue homework.  And I'm honestly feeling pretty sleepy (not from wine this time) so I think I'm going to go to bed and try to wake up early to finish it.  If I care tomorrow.  Which is a tossup at this point.
Ooo it's thundering.  How wonderful.  I do love a good storm.

Some Lists

Here's what I hate:
- when there are smudge marks on the windows of public transportation vehicles from the person/people before you resting their greasy head/s on the window.
- when the teacher leaves bits of chalk marking/dry erase marker while erasing the board.
- when a book I really like gets wet and its pages dry crinkled, never to be the same again.
- when I walk away from a conversation and realize that I talked about myself the entire time.
- head colds

Here's what I love:
- the Eucharist
- singing, especially really high notes
- dancing!
- the circle of fifths
- Africa, especially beautiful, wonderful Ghana

Here is what I secretly hate (but not so secret anymore)

- listening for too long

- green peppers

- answering the phone

- when people are judgmental in either direction

- being expected to socialize/mingle with a large group of people

Here is what I secretly love (but again, not so secret anymore):
- surprising people, especially by saying/doing ridiculous/unexpected things
- lacy underthings
- giving myself pep talks in the morning as I get ready
- twilight (don't judge!  They were highly entertaining.)
- watching exorbitant amounts of online tv

Happy List

Lately, I've been noticing that a lot of things are making me smile and even laugh as I prepare to leave for Ghana.  Here are a few:

- the Eucharist - I mean, seriously, what would a happy list be without the source of our happiness??
- the smell of tanning oil - mmmm, summer... and... banana popsicles?*
- trying on leather jackets in the store while my little sister reminds me again that I don't own a motorcycle
- the way my hair looks when it curls just right, like it did today  (sigh, why am i soooo vaaaain...)
- headbands with flowers on them (i just bought a bunch! :D)
- getting packages in the mail (even if it's just boring stuff for Africa, like hand sanitizer)
- teaching my little sister how to walk in heels**
- dancing along to the radio while I pack
- hanging out in my bikini after sunbathing
- the pink lace that I use as a bookmark for my copy of "The Imitation of Christ"
- gold toenail polish
- getting to know St. Therese as I read Story of a Soul***
- looking up the weather forecast for Ghana, clicking on "10 day" and realizing that I'm going to be there during some of that weather!!! gah, it's so crazy.  I can't even think about it or I might explode.

And now, since a few of these have touched on topics I've been meaning to write about for some time now, I will elaborate in these blogs within a blog:

* Adventures in Tanning
I have never laid in the sun for the sole purpose of getting tan before.  It always just happened after a day at the pool or a week of camping or whatever.  So when I started, I had a bit of a time figuring out what to do.  I've been meaning to chronicle them here so that those of you who have never tanned but thought about it could learn from my mistakes and those of you who are experienced tanners could laugh at me.
The first day, I went outside and tried to lay on my back for half an hour without moving.  I never realized what a fidgety person I am until I attempted this stunt.  I barely made it through the half hour without jumping up and running around.  Then I had to lay on my stomach for half an hour.  Torture.  And on top of that, I set up my towel right next to a giant ant hill, which explains the numerous ants crawling on me while I lay there.  I'm not really creeped out by bugs, but it was super annoying.  I said a rosary and a chaplet of Divine Mercy and offered everything up for the mission.
The next day, I managed to get my little sister to lay out with me (in a different spot) so I wouldn't get so incredibly bored.  But it was still hot and uncomfortable.  We didn't make it the whole hour.  And I didn't look tan at all, because I only had lain out around 3pm and 4pm to avoid the hottest part of the day, which I had always been taught to do to avoid sunburn.
On Sunday, though, I went out at 1pm.  It was so incredibly hot, I was watching the sweat bead up on my arms and roll off.  By then, though, I had figured out that it was better to do 3 10-minute sessions on each side so as to avoid the torture of laying still for so long.  So in between the first four and last two sessions of the hour, I ran inside to get a popsicle.  Oh man, frozen juice has never tasted so good.  And I got super tan.  Yaay!
Since then, I've used the 6 10- minute session format almost every day, and my tan is deepening nicely.  I have even grown to enjoy my time sunbathing, and I've been able to relax enough to doze sleepily in the sun.  The weather has been so nice and breezy the past few days, too. And I've said a lot of rosaries.  When I'm done with my hour for the day, I step inside and lay on the couch to watch TV for a little while in my bikini, enjoying the way my skin feels all warm from the sun and smells so delicious from the tanning oil.  Sigh. This may be a new summer tradition for me.  Maybe.


** 5 Golden Rules for Walking in Heels
1. Keep your weight on the balls of your feet as much as possible.  Putting weight on the heel causes wobbling, slipping, and heal breakage.
2. Pick your feet up to at least ankle height during your stride.  This will help you avoid what I like to call "heel farts," when your heel scrapes loudly and embarrassingly against the surface on which you are walking, a dead giveaway that you are dragging your feet.
3. Walk as though you are walking a parking lot line, one foot in front of the other.  There's no need to cross over dramatically, but keeping your footsteps close to lined up will give your hips a lovely, natural swing as you walk.
4.  Confidence!  Keep your chin and eyes up, shoulders slightly back and lengthen your neck.  Imagine stretching the muscles under your ears that connect your head to your shoulders.  And smile a bit, like you know a secret.  Here's the secret:  you are amazing!! Look at you in those heels! ;D
5.  Use all your muscles, especially your abs, glutes, and calves to steady yourself.

Oh, and here's a bonus tip:  keep your walk heel-toe, heel-toe or else you're stride will show that you're inexperienced in heels.  But remember rule #1.  The "heel" of heel-toe should be the briefest touch until your toe comes firmly down to push off again.
If you are walking in heels for the first time (like my sister was) it's probably best to start with wedges and work your way to a smaller and higher heel.  But as I also told her, if you practice walking around on your tiptoes, those muscles that you need for walking in heels will strengthen and you'll be ready for anything!


***  My Confirmation Saint
I've always had a special connection to St. Therese, since I was a very little girl.  I just always knew that she'd be my confirmation saint.  It really was as though she chose me rather than the other way around.  When I was little, I loved her child-like faith and the novena asking her for roses.  That tangible sign from heaven was so encouraging for me when I was young, and still is.  Back then I used to say that novena all the time for every little thing.
As I grew up, though, I fell away from her, especially as I grew in my faith and discovered other amazing saints.  Whenever I would tell people that she was my confirmation saint, they would always ask if I'd read The Story of a Soul, but of course I hadn't because I had written it off as too dense for me.
In Peoria in the spring of '09, I had a long talk with one of the nuns, during which she exclaimed, "It is so easy to tell that St. Therese is your confirmation saint; everything you are saying sounds just like her!"  And then she asked if I had read Story of a Soul, which I still hadn't, but now I was legitimately curious about it.
It wasn't until the spring of this year, when I was in Peoria again for spring break that I bought the book for myself.  We were visiting the museum of Bishop Fulton Sheen (who is a native of Peoria; who knew?) and I was wandering through the gift shop when the glossy little book caught my eye.  I don't know why I hesitated before I bought it, but eventually I did.
I started reading it when I got home, and was immediately struck by how similar St. Therese and I are!  Her stories of her childhood in the beginning of the book were just so inexplicably familiar, and I identified with her so deeply.  I took a break from the book for a few weeks during finals etc., but I picked it up again fairly recently and was again surprised by how alike we are.  We could be sisters, really!  I don't mean to elevate myself by identifying with such a great saint; I just mean that her way of thinking and mine are very similar, that her natural reactions to things are often the same as mine, though in her great holiness she usually overcomes these.  I understand her perfectly, and I love her so dearly, more than I ever have.  How blessed I am to have such a wonderful person chose me as her little sister of sorts!
I think it no coincidence that I have rediscovered her during preparations for my trip to Africa; she is the patron saint of missionaries!  Although she never left the Carmel, she spiritually adopted many missionaries and dreamed of being able to spread our Lord's love to people the world over.  So, St. Therese, pray for me and my fellow missionaries!  I am starting to get majorly freaked out about this whole thing.


Ok, that is all.  This post makes me seem really worldly, materialistic, and vain...  I guess I am.  :p  Maybe my trip to Ghana will cure me of those unfortunate personality traits.  Part of me hopes so and part of me... just really likes pretty things!! If I ever met myself, I don't know if I would like me very much.  I might hate me.  I might be seriously concerned for my soul.  Or I might get along with myself very well, because we were delighted by all the same things. hahaha

New Name, New Address

Hello readers.  In case you haven't noticed (or are reading this on Facebook), I have changed the name of my blog.  It shall henceforth be known as "Songbirds and Silhouettes" and can be found at http://songbirdsandsilhouettes.blogspot.com.  
Now, you may be understandably curious about what prompted this change.  So I will tell you.
Earlier today, I was shopping on amazon.com for a book I need to buy for my trip to Ghana.  All of us in the group will be reading Set All Afire: A Novel About St. Francis Xavier together since he is the patron saint of something that pertains to our trip.  Missionaries, probably.  "St. Francis Xavier is noteworthy for his missionary work, both as organizer and as pioneer. He is said to have converted more people than anyone else has done since Saint Paul."  Ah, thank you Wikepedia.  Anywho.  So I was buying this book and I was intrigued by the little "payphrase" bar on the side since I always see it when I check out but never click on it.  So today I did click on it.  I got a very informative little popup window explaining how the whole thing works and how to set one up etc. and I thought, hey, why not.  It would be nice to speed up the checkout process a little more.  So I followed the link and scrolled through the suggestions listed when I noticed that one of them included the word "songbird."  
And now, some background.
I have always, but especially in recent years, considered myself to be God's little songbird.  Here are a few reasons why:
~  There is that beautiful scripture verse about the Lord taking care of the birds and the flowers, so we should not be anxious... wait, I'll find it... "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?  Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not of more value than they?"  ~ Matthew 6:25-26  Sigh.  How lovely.  I remember this verse often when I get worried about where my life is going or how I will possibly have enough money to do this or that.  So far He has really provided for me!!  Just like a little bird. :)
~  Do you remember that scene in Romeo and Juliet where Juliet wishes that Romeo was a little bird tied to a string on her finger?  It's part of the balcony scene:

Juliet:

'Tis almost morning.  I would have thee gone --

And yet no farther than a wanton's bird,

That lets it hope a little from his hand,

Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,

And with a silk thread plucks it back again,

So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Romeo:

I would I were thy bird.

Juliet:

Sweet, so would I.

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.

What a delicious tidbit of literature.   Now, this scene, although laced through with dark foreshadowing, in some ways represents the relationship I wish to have with God.  I so dearly wish that I could be a little bird perched on His hand or His shoulder, or snuggled into His palm without a care in the world.  How I wish that I could delight Him just by being the cheeky little creature He created me to be.  And Juliet's description of herself as "loving-jealous" seems to me to explain perfectly the way God feels about each of us.  He doesn't want to share our attentions with anything or anyone!  He always wants to be first in our hearts, as well He should.
~  I love singing more than almost anything else, and I've always known that my voice was created to give glory to God.  I have one particularly beautiful memory concerning this knowledge that brings me such joy upon recollection.  I was walking to a Heinz Chapel Choir concert, I think the spring one.  It was quite damp that day, as we had just come through one of spring's many showers. The trees on the lawn of the Cathedral of Learning, bare branches darkened by the rain, spread themselves in intricate patterns across the pale grey twilight.   I was bustling my way toward Heinz Chapel, thinking of all the things I had left to do that day besides sing in a concert.  I must have breathed a prayer of anxiety, as I often do when I get overwhelmed, for just at that moment, as I was walking under those trees, a large flock of birds swooped down to land on the branches above my path and started singing, I mean really singing.  It was gorgeous.  I think I actually stopped walking to turn my head up toward the songbirds in awe.  A smile broke out across my face as I listened, because I could hear the message being sent loud and clear.  "Go and sing for me, my little songbird, for it gives me such joy and such glory.  I will take care of the rest; do not let your heart be troubled."  I knew that the moment, the song, was a gift from Him, because in my heart I felt His peace nestling.  Needless to say, I continued on to the concert with spirits greatly lifted.  
~  When I was a senior in high school, I played the part of Chavala in Fiddler on the Roof, and her nickname is "Little Bird."  I danced a beautiful ballet (which I choreographed, by the way) behind the scrim as Tevye sang a song about how sweet and adorable I am, after which I ran crying around the passarelle begging for his acceptance in the extremely dramatic "Tradition: Reprise."  It was an excellent moment.  
~  I've always had birds as pets.  Our family dog died when I was pretty young (I wanna say around 4 years old?) and my mom refused to get another dog (or a cat) because she and several others in my family are actually very allergic to them.  So, after that I had a caterpillar (Mr. Caterpillar - I know, SO original) and a hamster (Kiki - my favorite character on "The Puzzle Place haha) before my little brother decided he wanted a bird.  We named the little blue fluffball Smokey after our favorite mountains, and after a while my brother got tired of taking care of it, so I adopted it. After he died, there was Beauty and then Tobey.  When Tobey died I gave up on birdkeeping, but after a traumatic incident at my sister's house (her dog ate one of her birds), she sent the remaining budgie home to live with me.  This was Jack.  Now we know he's actually a girl, so it's Jacqueline.  And of course, my favorite pet EVER was Elliot, the darling little spot of sunshine who died in a ceiling fan accident.  She was seriously such a good bird.  Sigh.  And she loved to sing.  I guess from having birds around for so much of my life, I've just grown to love them.  I love the graceful way they circle in flight, the way they preen and ruffle their feathers, the silly way they cock their heads as if they're listening to you suspiciously.  And I love the way they sing and chirp and whistle.  They make such beautiful music without ever taking a lesson or studying for a minute.  (soooo jealous hahaha)  Although some species of birds (like the Russian Canary) do learn their song from older canaries singing around them.  I've done a considerable amount of research in books and on the internet about birds, their history, and their care.  It's just always interested me.
So, bringing us back to the original point of this story... 
As you have probably surmised, seeing "songbird" in the payphrase suggestions got my imagination going in so many ways.  The phrase "Songbirds and Silhouettes" popped into my head as though someone had dropped it there.  I typed it into the little box, but the more I thought about it, the more I loved it.  I said it out loud a couple of times, enjoying the way it rolled off the tongue.  (Did you know that "s" and "l" are my favorite consonants?  Well they are.  Especially together.)  I could not waste such a glorious word concoction on something so mundane as a payphrase!!  I immediately thought of my blog.  I named it "Thoughts Along the Way" because I couldn't think of anything better at the time of its creation.  I had always intended to give it a better, more suited-to-me name eventually, but I hadn't been able to think of anything.  And now this!  I had already changed my background to the silhouetted birds flying about several months ago, so it matched perfectly.  It reflects a major part of my life and adds its own little twist.  
Silhouettes?  What do those have to do with me?  Well... I've thought of a few things...
~  The mental image I have of that glorious memory on the way to the HCC concert is the silhouette of birds on branches, black against the pale grey sky, crisp and beautiful.
~  I did an entire ballet number in silhouette as Chavala, my shadowed figure dancing across a white backdrop lit by deep pink lights.
~  Silhouette could also refer to the shape of a body or an article of clothing.  This is slightly fitting since I work in a costume shop at present and do have quite a love for beautiful and well-made clothing.  
~  Anyone who's ever taken Theater Arts II at Bethel Park High School knows how awesomely fun shadow scenes are.  Completely done in silhouette.  
~  A silhouette can be deceiving... Things are not always as they appear, and there is a certain air of mystery about silhouettes.
~  Back in Victorian times, in addition to collecting each others' hair and weaving it into wreaths and such, ladies would made silhouettes of each other and perhaps of young men they were interested in remembering.  No photographs, you know.  So for me, the word "silhouette" conjures up images of those lovely, classy times when there could never be too much lace or dainty finger cakes.  Charming!
Before I switched over the name officially, I Googled the phrase to make sure it wasn't the name of an album or a song or something that I was just remembering from somewhere else.  The only thing that came up was a flyer for a concert/fashion show in North Carolina.  So it seems I've come up with something fairly original, after all.
Also, http://janelaine-thoughtsalongtheway.blogspot.com doesn't exist anymore.  So if you go to that site it'll say "not found" or whatever.  Just so you know.  Sorry about any confusion or annoyance this may cause you.
Ok, guys thanks for reading!  I look forward to this new chapter of blogging.  A good name just makes everything seem right, doesn't it?  I think Anne of Green Gables would agree.

Fundraising Fiasco

I've been meaning to write a chronicle of my crazy fundraising efforts this past weekend, but I've been so busy with my nannying job and my new workout regime (woot woot!) that all I've really wanted to do this week is sleep.  But now it's Friday night, I've had a whole day to do nothing, and it's thunderstorming, so I'm in a great writing mood.  Ergo, what follows is an account of the weekend of May 22/23, the fateful weekend that blessed me with over $3800.  Read on... if you dare...

Saturday, May 22, 2010
I sleep in this morning, because I have already gotten into such a horrible late-to-bed-late-to-rise sleep schedule, plus I was out late on a babysitting job last night.  I spend a few hours in the afternoon watching online TV at hulu.com. (love this site!  where has it been all my life?)  Then I get right down to business baking cookies.  What is a fundraiser without cookies, after all?  I make a double recipe of chocolate chip cookie dough, the equivalent of 10 dozen cookies.  The oven is heated to 375 degrees, making the already-warm summer air almost unbearable.  The cookie dough seems too thin, but it's the Nestle Toll House original recipe, so I decide to trust the cookbook.  Poor choice. The cookies spread out several inches on the pan and stick horribly.  Yea, the recipe also said to use an ungreased cookie sheet.  Grr.  And did I mention that these little suckers burn if they are in the oven an instant too long?  Well, they do.  And every sheet seems to take a different amount of time.  This all results in me having to watch the cookies in the oven like a hawk tracking its prey, pull them out in the knick of time, put the next sheet in, and then carefully scrape the cooked cookies off the sheet without breaking them.  (Eventually I did start greasing the sheets, but at first I was worried that oil on the sheet would encourage more spreading, so I preferred to just be careful when transferring the cookies from sheet to cooling rack.)
Ay.
On top of this rather unfortunate cookie situation, I am scheduled to cantor the 5pm Mass.  I think it's going to be a pretty straightforward Mass, but my mom keeps yelling from the couch in the living room that I need to look at the music.  I take a brief break from cookie-ing to review the psalm.  It's fairly easy.  I get back into the kitchen.  Mom's not satisfied, so she starts looking over the music herself.
"There's a new hymn in here," she calls from the piano.
"What??"  And then she starts playing it on the piano while I continue to pull almost-burned-yet-not-quite-done cookies out of the oven.  At this point I am so hot and frustrated with the cookies, the music and the fact that I haven't even started writing my parish talk that I feel more annoyed than anything else, but I bite my tongue.  It is really very sweet of her to help me learn the music in a way that doesn't require me to leave the kitchen.

3:30pm
I finally give up on making all the cookies about 2/3 of the way through the dough.  I need to get ready so I can get to the church around 4, in time to set up and make it to rehearsal at 4:30.  I pull the final tray of cookies out of the oven and run up to my room to get ready.

4:15pm
I am hopping out of the car outside the breezeway of the church, appropriately clad in a cute but classy outfit with a huge tray of cookies and a basket for donations in hand and a bag with my baby laptop in it slung over my shoulder.  Upon entering the breezeway, I see that there is another group setting up shop; a family from Bethlehem (the city of our Savior's birth, not Bethlehem, PA haha) is selling hand-carved olive-wood statues, crosses, etc. Their shop takes up three folding tables, but I don't see a place for me.  I leave the basket and my tray of cookies on a coffee table across the breezeway from them and trip-trap over to the pastor's office in my little white heels with the bows on the toes.  He informs me that whatever tables and chairs are out there are all that's available for the weekend and wishes me luck finding a place to set up.  I thank him for giving me the opportunity to do this this weekend and head back to the breezeway, wondering how I'm going to set up.  Eventually I decide to just leave the cookies and basket on the coffee table, because there's a nice leather couch behind it and a couple of chairs that makes for a comfortable little sitting area close to the doors of the church.   Perfect.

4:30
The Rooney Room, where the choir usually rehearses before Mass, is full of science project boards from the Carnegie Science competitions, so I meet the organist outside in the church to run over the music for the Mass.  We review the new hymn and the verses to the psalm once each, but for some reason he trusts me to know the rest and hurries off to make copies of a special Pentecost song that has to be in the pews since we don't use songsheets anymore.  I therefore am left with my nerves and the music which I have barely looked at all day.  After a quick stop in the tabernacle chapel to beg for the graces I need to make it through the evening, I sit myself down at the piano to further review the music.  Once I have gotten to the point where I can sing through all the pieces without any help from the piano to find the right pitches, I sit down in the front row of the choir section to write my appeal speech.  I know what I want to say, so it's just a matter of writing down the key points I want to make.
Surprisingly, all this bustle still doesn't take more than 20 minutes, so I'm still sitting there with my nerves and copies of music lying open around me, waiting to get the signal from the priest to start the Mass.  More prayers for strength and courage.  More harried reviewing of music.  Dear God, will Mass never begin?!!

5:05
I finally see the wave from the back of the church and step up to the microphone.
"Good Evening.  Today we celebrate the feast of Pentecost.  All music for today's Mass can be found in the Gather hymnal..."  As usual, as soon as I begin my nerves settle down and my faith in myself is restored.  I can do this.  The opening hymn goes beautifully and I even make it through the Gloria with no mistakes.  Praise God; last time I lead the Gloria I completely butchered it, or at least made up large sections of melody.
I don't hear a single word of the first reading; I am reviewing the psalm in my head over and over... When the reading is over and the music begins, I walk up to the ambo, pausing to bow before stepping up on the altar.  I shouldn't have worried.  The verses are a simple chant and it's easy to hear my notes in the chords of the organ.  I step down extremely relieved.  I know it may seem like a hassle, but I absolutely love singing the word of God to the people in the pews.  How beautiful words become when they are set to music!  It only brings out the beauty of the scripture that much more.  And people enjoy my singing; I can see in on their faces as I finish.  Truly, some of the most satisfying moments of my still-young musical career have occurred while singing a psalm in a way that touches the hearts of my listeners.  I pray for that grace before every performance, that my voice may in some way touch the hearts of those who hear me and bring them closer to Him.
But I digress. The rest of Mass went swimmingly, and I nailed that new hymn like I've been singing it my whole life.  After communion, I step up to the ambo once more after Father's brief introduction.  My family is in the pews this evening, and I can see them smiling at me, even though I know that my mom is a touch embarrassed that her daughter is getting up in front of everyone to beg for money.  But she is smiling at me nonetheless.  So I take a deep breath. And I deliver the following speech:
"Hi everyone!  As Father said, my name is Jane Henkels, and I promise not to take up more than a few minutes of your time.  I've been a parishioner here since I was about two years old.  I graduated from St. Thomas More grade school in 2004.  I started singing at Masses when I was about 5 years old, and I sang my first psalm from this ambo when I was in second grade. [Here my dad actually laughs out loud, and if you know my dad, you know that it was indeed loud.  His laugh prompts a slight ripple of laughter from those around him, and I continue, encouraged.]  But that's not why I'm here right now; I'm here to tell you about a pretty amazing opportunity I've been given for this summer.  I was chosen from a fairly large pool of applicants across the country to accompany a group of students and missionaries on FOCUS's, that is, the Fellowship of Catholic University Students, first ever mission trip to Ghana in West Africa.  For two weeks, we'll be staying in a tiny village 3 hours outside of the capital city.  The people there have been celebrating Mass in nothing more than a hut, and they don't have a parish priest, so they are only able to receive the Eucharist once a month.  We are so blessed to be able to receive Him every week or every day if we want, but these people are not so blessed.  So for those two weeks we'll be building a church for them and helping out with catechesis.  Then we'll return to the capital, Accra, to work with the Missionaries of Charity, Mother Teresa's order, in the slums of the city and in their AIDS ward.
So... I'm pretty excited about this, obviously, but the cost of the trip is $3500, and I certainly don't have the means to come up with this money on my own.  All of us going on the trip have been asking our families and friends for support, so I thought I would ask you, my parish family, to help me out.  So, I'll be in the breezeway after Mass, and I brought cookies [turn up the charm, insert persuasive smile here and yes, they laughed] and it would mean so much to me if you would stop by.  Thanks so much for your time!"
I step down from the altar to thunderous applause, which I really am not expecting.  Why would anyone clap after you ask them for money?  But it feels quite good, to have the support of my parish like that, and I walk over to the breezeway with a huge smile on my face as my mom takes over the leading of the closing hymn.
The response of my fellow parishioners is overwhelming; scads of people come over after the final blessing to talk to me, to donate, to buy cookies, to warn me about malaria, to tell me about their family members or friends who have traveled to Africa, to ask me questions about the trip.  I play the video for the trip on my laptop for everyone to see, and people are very interested, especially the children.  One woman makes sure to come over to the table, press a St. Jeanne Jugan medal into my palm and encourage me to carry it with me during the trip.  I love things like that.  It makes me feel so connected to the Body of Christ.
After everyone had gone home, I stuff my winnings into a manila envelope and head home to count it all. The total is $843.50.  Wow.  At this rate I'll have enough money for sure.  But I don't want to get my hopes up.
By this time I am really pretty tired from the excitement of the evening, but no rest for the wicked, I guess, because I have to bake more cookies!  I sold the whole tray after the 5pm Mass and still have part of my last batch of cookie dough left to bake.  I know that I need enough cookies for at least 3 more Masses and that I had sold 2/3 of 10 dozen cookies tonight.  So it seems I have no choice but to make another double batch of chocolate chip cookies.  I follow the same recipe, but this time I add 3 cups of flour, I lightly grease the cookie sheets, and lower the oven temperature to 350 degrees.  The cookies come out looking like something from a dream.  They're perfect.  Now only 9 dozen more to go...

Sunday, May 23, 2010
1:30am
I finally sink into bed, exhausted.  I will never bake another cookie again as long as I live.

7:00am
My alarm goes off.  Gotta get up for the 8am Mass...

7:30am
I get out of bed.  That snooze button...

8:10am
I leave for Mass.  I get there just as the homily is beginning.  Perfect.  I stow my huge box of cookies under the coffee table and set up the tray and the basket for collections as per yesterday and I have time to slip into the bathroom and do my makeup before giving my talk.  Actually I have more than enough time; I am done in time for the Liturgy of the Eucharist, so I sneak out into the church behind the choir section and enjoy the Consecration from a hidden spot off to the side near the tabernacle chapel, but I don't receive Communion since I didn't even make an effort to be on time to Mass.  Plus, I'll be going to all the Masses today.  There's no need to rush things.
The talk goes well, but no laughter; the crowd is much quieter, which I suppose is understandable since it's kind of early in the morning.  Their support is unquestionable, though, as I raise another $810.  And they don't eat very many cookies, also probably because it's early in the morning, so I am hopeful about my supply making it through to the 11:30 Mass.

9:15am
I settle into the pew for the 9:30 Mass.  This one I am attending from start to finish, so I take some time to quiet my heart, etc, and prepare myself to receive my Maker.  He is so good to us.  I don't even know what to say about His generosity.
The talk goes well again.  I'm beginning to sound more polished now that I've given the speech for the third time.  There is no audible audience response until their applause (again!), but they are smiling.  And that makes me very happy.  I stay for the final blessing to seal in all those good graces I received in the Eucharist, even though I know I'll probably miss a couple of people leaving because of it.  This crowd eats a lot of cookies, almost two trays full, and I raise $723.20.
I had planned on grabbing something to eat before the 11:30 Mass, but I run into an old friend of mine and we get to talking, and I am of the opinion that fellowship is more valuable than food, so I let our conversation go on for a while.  It is so good to talk to her; we haven't seen each other in so long!  We are both going to the 11:30 Mass, so we head into the church together and she wishes me luck.

11:30am
Another Mass, another talk.  The crowd is a bit more lively, and as I step down from the altar to walk to the breezeway, I hear a cheer from the direction of my friend's family; she (or one of her sisters) is showing her support!  How lovely. :)
Again, people are super supportive, giving $706.  I do run out of cookies, as I had feared, but there are only a few people who don't get cookies that want them, so it's not too bad.  It seems that more people are interested in giving as much as they can than those who are just interested in buying cookies.  Indeed, I averaged about $14 a cookie by the end of the weekend.

1:00pm
I return home, truly exhausted now.  But I know that if I fall asleep I'll be groggy for the 5pm Mass this evening.  Besides, I have more cookies to bake since I ran out at the 11:30.  I don't have the strength to make another batch from scratch after last night, and anyway we're out of chocolate chips by now.  So I pull a Funfetti cake mix from the pantry and make sugar cookies from the mix.  While they're cooling I count up my money from the first three Masses of the day, and I am extremely encouraged to find that I only need to raise about $400 more to reach $3500 which, judging from the other Masses, should be extremely doable.  I am too tired to get really excited about this, plus there are cookies to be iced now.  Over the course of these two days I baked somewhere around 24 dozen - 288 - cookies.  Yes.  I vow I will never bake again.  (A vow I ended up breaking this past Friday, when I made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for the 8th grade graduation.  And I liked it.  Baking and I just needed to take a little break, that's all.)

5:00pm
I leave for the 5pm Mass.  Since I've already been twice today there's no need for me to be on time.  I touch up my makeup in the bathroom during Mass and chat with the mother of the family from Bethlehem, who have also been at all the Masses selling their wares.  She and I both admit that we're doing very well, though she thinks we would have done better if we hadn't been there at the same time.  I didn't say so, but I disagree.  I think it's cool that we're both there at the same time.  I think we bring each other business, that people who stopped in to see the olive-wood carvings maybe dropped by to buy a couple of cookies and that people who came to donate to me maybe sauntered over to her table.  It's like a little fair, especially with all the science boards in the Rooney Room.  Our parish is just teeming with life and love.  It's fantastic, really.
My final talk of the weekend goes off without a hitch (and the more-awake 5pm crowd laughs at my persuasive cookie-making line - success!), but I am definitely breathing a sigh of relief as I walk down the altar steps for the last time.  This whole ordeal has been more exhausting that I anticipated.

6:30pm
I finally head home to count everything up.  All told, I raised $3865.  This is plenty for the trip and probably for my airfare as well.  I am hugely relieved; just this past Wednesday I had been on the phone with the director of the summer missions discussing how seriously behind I was in my fundraising.  I got off the phone that afternoon thinking that, if things didn't go well this weekend, I would have to pull out of the trip.  I prayed a long long litany to pretty much every saint I could think of, begging God to help me if it was His will that I go.  Well, let me tell ya: if I had any doubt in my mind that He wanted me to go to Ghana before this weekend, it has certainly been erased.  I skip outside where my mom is planting geraniums and tell her the good news.  She is absolutely floored, and just as relieved as I am (probably more so, actually).  We praise God together a little bit before I got inside to sleep!!  I am seriously so tired by this point that I think I'm going to fall asleep standing up.  It is so much easier for me to sleep now; cliche as it sounds, it is as though a huge weight has been lifted from my heart.

Monday, May 24, 2010
I recount all the money.  When I'm done, there is a huge stack of cash sorted according to denomination and all facing the same way about as high as 5 or 6 inches.  I feel like a drug dealer walking around with all that cash.  Since my bank is in Harrisburg, my parents have to deposit the money in their bank account and write me a check.  There's some reason that I'm with PSECU despite the distance, but I can't remember what it is...
I mail $2100 and all my paperwork for the trip to the Summer Missions Office; after this I only have another $600 due, which I obviously have now.  I send an email to the leader of the missions and of my mission in particular telling them that it's all in the mail and that they'll have it by Wednesday.  Phew!
The rest of the $3800 after the $2700 due to FOCUS will go towards the following:
- paying for my airfare to and from Chicago, where the flights to Ghana depart/arrive and where we'll be having a small retreat before and after to avoid culture shock both ways.
- paying for my appointment with Passport Health, my immunizations, and the malaria and anti-diarrheal medications I'll have to take while I'm there, all of which are surprisingly expensive, possibly around $1000 total.  (interesting side note: the malaria meds may cause hallucinations.  hahaha that should be fun when we're all taking them...)
- paying for the cost of materials for the church we're building
- donations to the Missionaries of Charity

And still the donations keep trickling in.  I've received a couple of checks in the mail from the Facebook page I set up and from appeal letters I sent out.  This weekend when I went to Mass a couple of people who had missed me last weekend handed me checks and cash.  One woman left a card with money in it in the will call box in the parish office.  Overall, the support has been quite overwhelming.  I still have to write thank you notes to my donors and deposit the envelope stuffed with checks made out to me.

While you're reading, I want to send a big THANK YOU out to everyone who has donated money or remembered me in prayer or even just told me that you believed in me and my mission or showed interest.  It means so much to me to have so many people holding me in their hearts as I prepare to go where He is sending me.  I promise you will all be in my prayers, especially in the next couple of months.

I leave July 5th!!!  Ghana, here I come!!! :D

Our Good Shepherd

Ah, to be a lamb on the shoulders of that good shepherd!

I remember one Christmas my home parish had a live Nativity, and my dad and I were both shepherds.  I looked quite the sight with my huge blue-rimmed glasses under that headpiece.  But I digress.  We stood outside the church before the evening Mass and sang carols first, and then we came into the church for the homily.  We really went all out, too; we hired a petting zoo and recruited a family with a newborn to play the holy family.  There was even a little lamb.  Or maybe it was a small goat.  Well, either way, when it came time for us to enter the church during the homily, my dad thought it would be sweet to pick up this little goat and carry it on his shoulders.  The goat had other ideas.  As soon as he got up on my dad's shoulders, he began to kick as hard as he could to get down.  Luckily, my dad's lightning-quick reflexes caught those little hooves before they smashed his face in, but both shepherd and sheep were quite flustered as they walked down the aisle that night.  

So, why do I tell this little story?  I guess because it's always what I think of when I see pictures like the one above of our Good Shepherd.  It never made sense to me that any animal would just allow itself to be carried like that.  Even the tame petting zoo goat wouldn't do it, and he had probably been sat on and had his tail pulled and all other manner of unpleasantries.  Yes, I think I just made that word up...

But I heard a rumor lately about ancient shepherding techniques.  According to this rumor, if a shepherd was carrying a lamb like this, it was because its legs were broken.  Apparently, if a lamb kept straying from the flock (thus leading others astray: sheep are stupid creatures), then the shepherd had two choices.  He could either kill the wandering lamb or break its legs and immediately set the bone.  While the legs healed, he would carry the lamb and hand-feed it until it was able to walk again.  During this period, the lamb would not only learn that straying was bad from the leg-breaking, but it would also bond with its shepherd so much during the weeks that followed that by the time it was better, it wouldn't even want to stray again. 

Now, I'm not sure of the validity of this story, and it's certainly not in scripture anywhere, but it is an interesting metaphor.  I know it's true that sometimes Christ needs to break us down in order to build us up.   Although He will willingly come to save us from the wilderness after we've strayed again and again, sometimes our deep-set complacency requires more than that.  Sometimes we need to go through crisis in order to find Him again.  Sometimes it's only when all that is comforting to us is stripped away that we can truly see the huge lack in our hearts.

So Lord... break my legs and hoist me up onto your shoulders.  Feed me from Your precious hands and care for me.  Let me be completely dependent on you for everything, even movement, for I do not trust myself not to stray from You.

Humility, Suffering, and Perfection

I have not posted anything for an incredibly long time. There have been things that I've wanted to say, none of which I can really remember now, but the truth is that there hasn't been time to say them. I couldn't even tell you what it is that's been keeping me so busy; I just know that I never feel like I have a spare minute. Maybe it's because I need a considerable amount of veg time in order to feel fully rested, so any spare moment I have is spent trying to relax. Even if I actually have stuff to do... like right now: I have so much to do! But I'm too tired to do anything. (It doesn't help that it's a sleepy rainy day here in Oakland.) Lately I feel that I'm just living from one pleasure to the next, enduring all that comes between instead of trying to make the best of each moment. That is not as it should be; my life is disordered at present.
Perhaps it is time to turn over a new leaf, as they say. Today, for example, I am eating humble pie. For a variety of reasons, I haven't been to my history class more than a few times in the past month. True, there are no tests in this class, but there are essays, and I believe the deadline for the next one is coming up soon. I don't have the prompt yet because I wasn't in class the day our professor handed them out and he doesn't use courseweb at all. So today I approached him after lecture to inquire after the essay prompt, fully revealing how behind I was in the course and drawing attention to the fact that I'm never there. I've written before about how closely tied my self-esteem is to my performance in school, so I needn't go through the emotions that I dealt with up until the moment I approached the front of the room. Taking responsibility for ones failings is never a comfortable action to take. Yet quite often it is the best way. On could argue that it is always the best way, in fact.
In my critical reading class, we just finished reading "Bartleby" by Herman Melville. It is the story of a lawyer (and narrator) dealing with his difficult scriveners on mid-1800s Wall Street. In particular, Bartleby, the most recent hire, "prefers not to" do anything but stare out the window after a brief period of efficient productivity at the beginning of his tenure in the office. The strange thing is that the lawyer, for whatever reason, cannot bear to kick him out, so Bartleby continues to haunt the office, even after the lawyer picks up and moves his business elsewhere! A most strange tale, indeed. Throughout, I found myself to be extremely frustrated and annoyed with the narrator's spinelessness. At the very beginning of the tale, he describes himself as "a man who, from his youth upwards, has been filled with a profound conviction that the easiest way of life is the best," and proceeds to act upon this conviction for the remainder of the story. He runs the office like a wet noodle, never disciplining his scriveners or even remaining angry at them for more than a moment. He rationalizes away every inclination that might lead him into conflict with anyone, even physically running away from the office when things get really bad toward the end.
The reason that I go into all of this detail about this particular story is that I see myself in the lawyer's actions to an alarming degree. My sixth grade teacher always used to say that we are most annoyed with other people when we recognize our own faults in them, and that certainly seems to be the case here. Much as I was shocked to hear the narrator's life philosophy, I have to admit that I have lived much of my own life by it. I, too, have spent years taking the easiest way and avoiding conflict at all costs. Usually when the need arises to really fight for something, I give up on it, including everything from grades to workouts to love interests. I have let people walk all over me because I would rather be hurt than fight it out. I have let others call the shots because I didn't want to put in the effort necessary to resist. I have listened with a smile on my face to people voicing opinions that make me want to scream and throw things because it just wouldn't do to start an argument. Now perhaps some of these have been occasions of prudence and wisdom. But perhaps some of them required action, and I did not act.
I was recently in Peoria with the Servants of the Pierced Hearts, and one of the sisters gave us a beautiful presentation about suffering. No matter where our paths take us, there is going to be suffering involved. The key to navigating life is not to choose the easiest way, but rather to choose the way that our Lord wants us to take. Sometimes we may even need to choose to suffer! Yes, it may be difficult, but it is far easier to suffer now than in purgatory! At the end of our lives, what will we wish we had done right now? Let us not wait until the end of our lives to wish those things for ourselves; let us wish for them now! We are being called to be who we were created to be. There is no half way, there is no cutting of corners; if we are truly living the life He wants for us then the cross is always the end! And that cross is love in the extreme! Christ didn't scrimp; he annihilated Himself to give love to us. What are we watering down? How are we running away from Him? In what ways are we living in mediocrity?
Too often I have grown complacent and prideful by looking only at the aspects of myself that I like, the areas in which I am succeeding. It is then that I need to be jostled out of my comfortable sleep and awaken to the many areas of my life where I have failed, like in this history class. Christ understands when we fall - He was human once, after all - but we are being called to PERFECTION. As Padre Pio said, "God sees stains even in the angels. What must He see in me!"
This may seem an impossible task, but I assure you that it is not! Our Lord greatly desires for us to become the people He created us to be, so the slightest glance in His direction gladdens His heart. Can't you see that He wants nothing more than to welcome you into His arms? He longs to pour out his grace upon each of our hearts if we would only be open to receive it. The easiest and the best way to do this is to frequent the sacraments of Reconciliation and the Eucharist. By keeping our souls clean and free from worldly attachment and frequently welcoming Jesus physically into our bodies, we are able to keep building that close relationship with Him that He so desires and from which we benefit so greatly! This closeness with Him that all of the great saints fostered allowed for their sanctification, for when you personally know the Author of the Universe, it is easier to see His hand at work and the paths He has set for you. And the path that our Lord has chosen for all of us is sainthood! Believe it! He wants all of us to be up at that high altar in heaven. We were created to be nothing less.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that these little things like succeeding in history class or day-to-day charity may seem inconsequential, but it is the culmination of all the little choices that you make that determine your character. After all, if we are to be perfect as we are meant to be, then each of these little decisions must lead us to God and to the sanctification of our souls.

4 Stages

Happy Valentines Day! Recently I've been giving a lot of thought to relationships, and this is some of my musings. (I ran the framework for this model by my spiritual director, so it's officially okay-ed by a very holy priest.)

Guidelines to Healthy, Chaste Relationships

Stage 1: Dating
The purpose of this stage is mostly to have a good time. I don't mean to use people, but to really enjoy the presence of the amazing people in your life of the opposite sex. This entails going to coffee, having lunch, or even dinner and dancing if that suits you. You can date as many people as you want at one time as long as things don't get physical. Physical affection should be limited to brief, friendly hugs and perhaps some hand-holding. That's right: NO kissing and absolutely nothing sexual. (Note: beware of dancing! Although it is within the parameters of this stage, it can lead very quickly to intimacy.)
Keep it lighthearted and fun. The focus here is getting to know people and casually considering them for a more serious relationship. Gals, avoid projecting way far into the future. It's totally unnecessary in this stage. That being said, if there is anything that might prevent you from wanting to commit yourself to this person, now would be the best time to discover it, before too much emotion and physical closeness (damn that cuddle hormone!) has clouded your judgment.
If strong feelings do develop, you should either allow your relationship with this special person to evolve into stage 2 or, if the person doesn't like you back :( then it's probably time to break things off. In general, it's healthier to not pine away for someone endlessly but rather to move on with your life and find someone who deserves your love.

Stage 2: Courtship
The purpose of this stage is to consider your significant other for marriage. You are exclusive now (that means no serious one-on-one time with people of the opposite sex), and kissing is allowed (unless you belong to that group that chooses to save their kisses for marriage). Cuddling is also (yay!) allowed here. I suppose in this stage the dates get a little more involved, too.
Be careful, though, because I think that some of the strongest temptations occur here. The discovery and presence of a mutual attraction can be so exhilarating that it may be easy to get carried away. It is even more important to guard your heart here, and your significant other's heart. As Jason Evert so eloquently put it, "The real measure of love is doing what’s best for the beloved." You should seek to help your beloved grow in virtue, not tempt him/her away from it, and if s/he is tempting you away from virtue then you probably need to break things off. (This is not to say that passion is a bad thing. If, for example, you find your significant other outrageously attractive and that tempts you away from virtue, that temptation would not be grounds for breaking up. Actually I am of the opinion that this chemistry is a very good thing. What's dangerous is pressure from him/her to go farther than you know is right.)
Courtship is not marriage!! I know it seems obvious, but it's important to keep in mind that even though you're exclusive, you're not completely committed, either. This means that you needn't spend every spare moment together or stop looking at other opposite-sex friends as possibilities. There's no need to ever stop looking until your wedding day, honestly (and by then you should be totally ready and willing to give up looking, anyway). All's fair in love and war, and if you or your significant other think they've found someone better, you should both be free to move on, heartbroken as the other may be. In truth, it's probably better to let someone go who's not sure about your relationship than to hold on to them. Freedom is of utmost importance in the realm of relationships! For after all, it is only with complete freedom to choose that we can fully choose to love.

Stage 3: Engagement
Obviously I've never experienced this stage (or the next), but I'll try to outline as best I can.
When you are fairly certain that you want to spend the rest of your life with the person you're in a relationship with, then hopefully s/he'll feel the same way and agree to marry you. I definitely think that the responsibility to pop this question falls on the man of the relationship, but this is a whole other issue that I really don't feel qualified to get into.
If courtship is an evaluation, engagement is a scrutiny. With marriage on the horizon, you must do everything you can to establish that you are 100% sure that you want to bind yourself to this person for eternity. Ideally you'll be going through some very thorough marriage prep with a good priest and spend lots of time in prayer to continue discerning whether this is truly the right path for you.
There is nothing additional in the physical affection department during this stage, and in fact it may be better to back off a bit physically in order to more deeply consider the other aspects of your relationship.
If all goes well and you still know that you want to marry this person, then you'll be ready for the 4th and final stage...

Stage 4: Marriage
From the moment that you take your vows, you two become one heart to love and to serve. It may seem incredibly romantic at first, but the love of married life is primarily an everyday, day-to-day love, grounded in the simple, mundane things that occupy your lives. This is why it is inappropriate to live together before marriage; part of married love is sharing every aspect of your lives together.
With your marriage vows, you are also finally allowed to go much, much farther than kissing... The unity of the bodies of man and wife in the marital act is essentially a renewal of the marriage vows and an outward sign of the union of their hearts. This is why it is inappropriate outside of marriage; in any other relationship it sends a false message and makes a hollow promise.

So, there it all is. Hopefully this has made things clear. I think where a lot of people run into trouble is mashing the stages together in that strange conglomerate of doing what feels good. A bit of discipline, however, is very freeing and (from what I've heard) totally worth it. If you've got questions please do leave me a comment, and I'll edit or comment accordingly. And definitely if you have further insights, please share. :)

Some Excerpts

from the book Jesus, Our Eucharistic Love by Fr. Stefano M. Manelli, F.F.I.

on the Eucharist:
With the Eucharist, God has truly given us everything. St. Augustine exclaimed: "Although God is all-powerful, He is unable to give more; though supremely wise, He knows not how to give more; though vastly rich, He has not more to give."
...
One day an Arabian prince, Abd-ed-Kader, while passing through a street of Marseille with a French official, saw a priest who was carrying Holy Viaticum to a dying man. The French official stopped, uncovered his head, and knelt. His friend asked him the reason for this gesture.
"I adore my God, whom the priest is carrying to a sick person," replied the good official.
"How is it possible," the prince said, "for you to believe that God who is so great, makes Himself so little and lets Himself go even to the homes of the poor? We Mohammedans have a much higher idea of God."
The official answered, "It is because you have only an idea of the greatness of God; but you do not know His Love."
That is the answer. In confirmation of this, St. Peter Eymard declares, "The Eucharist is the supreme proof of the love of Jesus. After this, there is nothing more but Heaven itself." Yet, how many of us Christians do not know the vast extent of the love contained in the Eucharist!

on the Mass:
Only in heaven will we understand what a divine marvel the Holy Mass is. No matter how much effort we apply and no matter how holy and inspired we are, we can only stammer if we would explain this Divine Work, which surpasses men and angels.
One day, Padre Pio of Pietrelcina was asked, "Father, please explain the Holy Mass to us."
"My children," he replied, "how can I explain it to you? The Mass is infinite, like Jesus...Ask an Angel what a Mass is, and he will reply to you in truth, 'I understand that Mass is offered and why it is offered, but its value, its worth, are beyond my comprehension.' One Angel - a thousand angels - all of Heaven knows this and think like this."
...
Wonderful are the saving effects which every Sacrifice of the Mass produces in the souls of those who participate. It obtains sorrow and pardon for sins. It lessens the temporal punishment due to sins. It weakens the influence of Satan and the untamed impulses of our flesh. It strengthens the bonds of our union in the Body of Christ. It protects us from danger and disaster. It shortens the punishment of Purgatory; and it obtains for us a higher degree of glory in Heaven. "No human tongue," said St. Lawrence Justinian, "can enumerate the favors that trace back to the Sacrifice of the Mass. The sinner is reconciled with God; the just man becomes more upright; sins are wiped away; vices uprooted; virtue and merit increase; and the devil's schemes are frustrated."
And so St. Leonard of Port Maurice did not tire of exhorting the crowds which listened to him, "O you deluded people, what are you doing? Why do you not hasten to the churches to hear as many Masses as you can? Why do you not imitate the angels, who, when a Holy Mass is celebrated, come down in myriads from Paradise and take their stations about our altars in adoration to intercede for us?"
...
One day Padre Pio of Pietrelcina said to a penitent, "If men were to understand the value of the Holy Mass, for every Mass such crowds would come to church that police would be needed to keep order."
Perhaps we, too, belong to that great number of Christians who have not understood the value of the Holy Mass, and for this reason we lack the zeal and fervor that encouraged and inspired the saints to attend Mass every day and even several times a day.

on the priesthood:
We know that St. Francis of Assisi was unwilling to become a priest because he considered himself unworthy of such a high vocation. He honored priests with a special devotion, considering them his "lords," because in them he saw only "the Son of God." His love for the Eucharist blended with his love for the priest who consecrates and administers the Body and Blood of Jesus. He paid special veneration to the priest's hands, which kneeling he used always to kiss very devoutly. He used even to kiss a priest's feet and even the footprints where a priest had walked.
St. John Bosco exhorts all in this manner: "I urge you to have the highest respect for priests; take off your hats as a sign of reverence when you speak with them or meet them in the street, and kiss their hands respectfully. Keep especially from showing contempt for them in word or deed. Whoever does not respect these sacred ministers should fear a great punishment from the Lord."
The veneration of the priest's consecrated hands, reverently kissed by the faithful, has always existed in the Church. It is noteworthy that during the persecutions of the first centuries, an outrageously cruelty practiced in particular on bishops and priests consisted in cutting off their hands so that they could no longer perform the consecration nor give blessings. Christians used to search out those amputated hands and treating them with spices preserve them as relics.
Kissing the priest's hands is also a delicate expression of faith and love for Jesus whom the priest represents. The more faith and love one has, the more he will venture to kneel before the priest and kiss those "holy and venerable hands" (the Roman Canon), in which Jesus lovingly makes Himself present every day.
"Oh the venerable dignity of the priest," exclaims St. Augustine, "in whose hands the Son of God becomes incarnate as He did in the Virgin's womb!" The holy Cure' of Ars said, "We attach great value to objects that are handed down and kept at Loreto, as the holy Virgin's porridge bowl and that of the Child Jesus. But the priest's fingers, which have touched the adorable Body of Jesus Christ, which have been put into the chalice where His Blood was and into the ciborium where His Body was - might anything be more precious than these fingers?" Perhaps we never thought of it before. But it is really so. The examples of the saints warrant this affirmation.
...
The holy Cure' of Ars used to say, "If I met a priest and an Angel, I would first pay my respects to the priest, and then to the Angel.... If it were not for the priest, the Passion and Death of Jesus would not be of any help to us.... What good would a chest full of gold be if there were no one to open it? The priest has the key to the heavenly treasures...."
...
St. Nicholas of Flue, a famous Swiss saint, father of a family, bluntly told anyone too ready to point out the faults of priests: "And you, how many times have you prayed for the sanctity of priests? Tell me: what have you done to obtain good vocations for the Church?"
One time, a spiritual daughter of Padre Pio of Pietrelcina accused herself in Confession of having criticized some priests for their less than worthy behavior and heard Padre Pio forcefully and decisively reply: "Instead of criticizing them, think of praying for them!"
And in particular, every time we see a priest at the altar, let us also pray to Our Lady, in the words of the Venerable Charles Giacinto, "O my dear Lady, lend your heart to that priest so that he can worthily celebrate the Mass." Let us also pray, as St. Therese did, so that priests at the altar may touch the most Holy Body of Jesus with the same purity and delicacy as Our Lady. Better yet, rather let us pray that every priest is able to imitate St. Cajetan, who used to prepare to celebrate Mass by uniting himself so closely to Mary Most Holy, that it was said of him, "He celebrates Mass as if he were her." And, indeed, as Our Lady welcomed Jesus into her arms at Bethlehem, similarly the priest receives Jesus in his hands at Holy Mass. As the Immaculate offered Jesus the Victim on Calvary, similarly the priest offers the Divine Lamb that is sacrificed on the altar. As the Virgin Mother gave Jesus to mankind, similarly the priest gives us Holy Communion. Thus St. Bonaventure rightly declares that every priest at the altar ought to be intimately identified with Our Lady; for, since "it was by her that this most Holy Body has been given to us, so by the priest's hands It must be offered."

Busy Busy in a Tizzy

This week as I prepare for finals, I have become ragingly self-centered. Not really in an egotistical way (I hope) but more in a way in which my mind focuses only on what I have to do next. I guess one of the many limitations I'm discovering about myself (though I've suspected it for some time now) is that I have a one-track mind. One thing at a time consumes my very being and I pretty much can think of nothing else. And right now that one thing is school.
As a result, though, I feel like some of my relationships are suffering. I haven't really talked with
either of my older sisters for what feels like a long time. I haven't had time to hang out with any of the usual crowd these past couple of weeks (I skipped bible study! eeek!) and when I get home at night I generally just eat and then work and then sleep. This lack of connection has also extended, unfortunately, to the relationship that means more to me than anything in the world.

Today I went to Mass and tried to stay for a holy hour afterward. I couldn't do it. Even with the King of Kings right there inside my heart I felt not a single thing. I tried to say some prayers and read a little booklet about Mary, but still nothing. I looked straight at the Host in the monstrance but could not get any feelings of respect or love to stir in my heart. After about 15 minutes of this I just left.
I was thinking about this little instance today on the trolley on my way home. It bugged me. I was frustrated with myself and with God. Why is it that some days adoration is amazing and soul-changing and other days it is as though I were sitting in an empty room? Off-days like today make me extremely skeptical about my faith, down to the very basics of what I believe. 'How am I so sure that there is even a God?' I ask myself. It is then that I remember those golden moments in my life when I've never been so sure of anything as of the fact that God reigns over Heaven and Earth and He loves me like no other. I was conjuring up those memories just today to combat the wave of doubt that washed over me, and it was then that I realized that all of those moments have something in common. In each instance, I left myself completely open to what He wanted to say to me. I was unafraid to hear His voice and see His hand in my life and uninhibited by my prideful "knowledge" of the world. Scripture says that "the simple find wisdom," and how many times over this has proven to be true in my own life! For in each of those beautiful moments, tired of the noise of the world, I quieted myself and let simplicity lead the way to His heart.
Once I realized this, I almost laughed out loud at myself. My mind and my heart had certainly not been quiet or simple earlier today. I pictured the Lord as a frustrated lover, wishing that I would just SHUT UP already so He could whisper sweet nothings into my ear. Of course he understands that our human nature sometimes makes it difficult for us to concentrate on abstract things such as Himself... but if we just give it a little effort it's not impossible. The thing is, the love of God never goes away. The love that lived and breathed and bled and died to save us is the same whether we're feeling it overwhelm us or not feeling a thing. The difference usually lies in our hearts (unless God is testing you! in which case your heart is totally open to Him and He still withholds that connected feeling, a.k.a consolation, but this generally occurs later in the spiritual journey to more experienced travelers). So stick it out in your holy hours (if you're doing them. If not you should really look into it! :D). Open your hearts and don't let fear or internal noise keep you away from Him! He desires so much to be near to you! "Behold, I stand at the door and knock..."

Thanks, Mom! :)

I've been thinking a lot lately about my vocation, as all of you probably know by now. I just couldn't get it out of my mind. A lot of things have happened in my heart, but there is one thing in particular that helped me that I want to share.
The following reflection is printed in black on a plain white sheet of paper. There is no information regarding who wrote it or what it is from. It's just there. My mom gave it to me to read at a point when I was really struggling. She is such a blessing to me!

FIRST LOVE

Everyone longs to give themselves completely to someone. To have a deep soul relationship with another, to be loved thoroughly and exclusively. But God, to a Christian, says no, not until you're satisfied, fulfilled, and content with living, loved by Me alone - giving yourself totally and unreservedly to Me, to have an intensely personal and unique relationship with Me alone. I love you My child and until you discover that only in Me is your satisfaction to be found, you will not be capable of the perfect human relationship that I have planned for you. You will never be united with another until you are united with Me - exclusive of anyone or anything else, exclusive of any other desires or longings. Stop planning, stop wishing, and allow Me to bring it to you. Just keep watching Me, expecting the greatest things. Keep learning and listening to the things I tell you. You must wait. Don't be anxious and don't worry. Don't look around at the things you think you want. Just keep looking off and away up to Me, or you'll miss what I have to show you.
And then when you're ready, I'll surprise you with a love far more wonderful than any you would ever dream. Until you are ready and until the one I have for you is ready - I am working this minute to have both of you ready at the same time - and until you are both satisfied exclusively with Me and the life I've prepared for you, you won't be able to experience the love that exemplifies your relationship with Me, and this is perfect love.
And dear one, I want you to have this most wonderful love. I want you to see in the flesh a picture of your relationship with Me, and to enjoy materially and concretely the everlasting union of beauty, perfection, and love that I offer you with Myself. Know I love you.
I am God Almighty, believe and be satisfied.

Log vs. Splinter

A month or so ago, I bought the book "Captivating" off of Amazon.com. I had already read it, but I gave my first copy away, as I so often do. A few weeks after it arrived in the mail, I got the email from the Amazon people inviting me to review my purchase. So I did. I wrote a congenial review saying, among other things, that it was an inspiring book even though it wasn't Catholic and I was (ie there wasn't anything against Church teachings that I could remember) and I highly recommended it. (4 stars)
A few days after that, an email popped up that said someone had commented on my review. Oo, how exciting, I thought, and followed the link. Imagine how my stomach sank when it turned out that some very adamant man had taken "issue" with my statement that "the book didn't go against Church teachings" and had proceeded to make a long list explaining what was wrong with the book. I skimmed the list, feeling a little embarrassed, and started to write a response that was something to the effect of "O sorry about that, I didn't realize there were so many discrepancies, it's been a while since I read it, thanks for clearing things up, etc. etc." But before I posted it, I scrolled back up to read the list in detail. And some of the stuff he was arguing was... well... kind of messed up.
He wasn't just arguing about a few bad sources in the book or a couple faulty references. No, he was challenging the core ideas of the book, the very ideas that had inspired me and fed me spiritually right when I had really needed it. The more I read, the more he seemed to be attacking the book rather than critiquing it.
The book had emphasized the beauty of femininity. He argued that "beauty is vain" according to scripture. The book had brought attention to Eve as the finishing touch on creation, the last and most wonderful creature of the story of Genesis. He spat out that the authors had overlooked Jesus Christ as the pinnacle of creation. And on and on. He even concluded that not only did the book contradict Protestant and Catholic church teachings, but it was also promoting New Age ideas!
At first I was shaken. Then I got mad. Really mad. I stormed into the kitchen where my mom was cleaning up, needing to vent to someone. I had a theological argument for every point that he made on that stupid list (which I proceeded to rain down upon my poor unsuspecting mother.) I would tell him! I would write my own witty and scathing defense and... but no. I couldn't just go on my own rampage. The Holy Spirit! He would help me! I discussed true beauty with my mother, and how much the Catholic Church cherishes her daughters. She suggested that I look for a quote from JPII on the feminine genius. So I did. I curbed my anger. I sat down and looked for a good quote. And I found one. My response read something to the effect of the following:

Sorry about the mistake! I should have been more clear.
"The personal resources of femininity are certainly no less than the resources of masculinity: they are merely different. Hence a woman, as well as a man, must understand her 'fulfillment' as a person, her dignity and vocation, on the basis of these resources, according to the richness of the femininity which she received on the day of creation and which she inherits as an expression of the "image and likeness of God" that is specifically hers."
~ JPII, Mulieris Dignitatem
I believe that, although this book has some gray areas and is certainly not endorsed by any church, if read in the light of Catholic teachings as outlined in the Catechism and expanded upon in Theology of the Body and The Dignity of Women, it can be a wonderful aide to becoming a young woman of Christ.
(Even if you're not Catholic I'm sure you can take something from this book. Read it and see for yourself! :)

I knew it was the Holy Spirit. How could it not be? If it had been up to me, I would have been ripping him a new one. Thank you sweet Lord for the gift of self-control!
But I wasn't satisfied. After I posted, I read through a few of the other reviews for the book and found that I wasn't the only one who had received a comment from the vengeful defender of all that is good. Even people who had reviewed the book less agreeably than I had been rebuked. I paced the floor of the kitchen, gritting my teeth and growling that I wanted to DO something!!! How dare this man spread such a version of Christianity?! THIS, I told myself, was just the kind of angry, judgemental, self-righteous Christian who turned people off to Christianity in droves! How can I change this? Reverse this influence? Perhaps one day, as a writer... but no! I want to do something now! And how DARE he??? Ya, I was pretty pissed.
Pissed enough that, the next day at Mass, I was still seething a little. I was just getting into my anger a little more when the priest stood up to read the gospel. And lo...

"Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye,
but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?
How can you say to your brother,
‘Brother, let me remove that splinter in your eye,’
when you do not even notice the wooden beam in your own eye?
You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your eye first;
then you will see clearly
to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.”

BAM! Just like that. I almost fell to my knees and cried right then and there. How dare I?? How could I??? How could I judge what is going on in this man's life, where he is coming from, what wounds he is dealing with? By labeling him as judgmental and angry and self-righteous, I myself was being judgemental and angry and self-righteous! What a trap Satan had set for me! How readily and easily I had walked into it! How humbling and touching to have the Lord show me my error so clearly.
I took away a few lessons from this. First of all, we as Christians should ALL strive to be non-judgemental and humble! Nothing is more attractive and, more importantly, nothing pleases the Lord more. Secondly, there has been kindled in me a deep and fiery apostolic zeal. My desire to draw souls to Christ was, for an agonizing hour or so, the most important thing in my life. True, I was acting out of anger at that time, but when the desire is cleansed of anger, it becomes a pure and powerful one, capable of accomplishing much. Let us also as Christians strive for this spirit of evangelization, bound tightly to the Holy Spirit, ready to do His bidding at every moment, and so on fire for Him and for souls that we will stop at nothing to accomplish it.