MIA or AWOL. You decide.

Obviously, I haven't been posting. It's not that I haven't had thoughts or have wanted to share them or needed to get them down, but it's more that I've stopped pushing myself. Or rather, I needed a break after everything that has happened this year.

I know Advent is coming. I know I'm supposed to be anxiously awaiting and excited and joyful.

But if I'm honest with myself and with you, I'm not. I couldn't care less. For the past four or five years, I've entered this season hoping for new beginnings, clean slates, and chances for my life to get better. Every year, it hasn't. It hasn't gotten better; some years it got worse. Some years, I broke even.

But after all this, I don't expect or wait or hope for anything anymore. Lately, I have just been trusting that this is my path and the load I'm expected to carry.

That makes things a lot simpler, but it also makes me apathetic at times. Regardless, I'm thankful for what I do have.

To be honest, Christmas is great, but I don't think it's what I need right now. I'm spiritually and emotionally spent. I need a renewal, a recommitment, a moment to suck it up and reconcile with God and say "okay, I'm over being mad at you." And that, to me, sounds more like Easter. So maybe that is what my Advent will be. Waiting and preparing for Lent and Easter and a chance to pick up where I left off.

Memento Mori

A very strange thing happened to me the other day while tending to my family's graves, especially while laying a bouquet of flowers on my father's.

I can remember being twelve or thirteen and watching my grandfather's casket being lowered into the ground and knowing what was happening, and coming back at eighteen or nineteen and looking at his headstone and comprehending what had happened. Mostly, my heart broke when I saw that my grandmother had already bought her plot next to him and had her name and birth date carved in the headstone. I boo-hooed out there that day when I realized what it meant.

Like I said, I went to put flowers on my father's grave, and I saw my mother had bought his head stone with her name and birth date already inscribed, I boo-hooed like I did when I was a teenager.  There, in big, black, bold letters was our last name - a name I don't think I'll ever be able to give up for a husband, not only my father's name, but my name, too. A name that I feel like is such a part of me and so representative of who I am, I can't disassociate it from myself and my identity. And it scared me. And it reminded me, everything in this world passes away, and I will, too.

I can honestly say I've just about got everything I wished for as a child. I have a job I like, I finally live in a house I pay for, I own my car, I pay my car and health insurance. And for the first time in my life surrounded by my dead family, I felt like an adult. I haven't been so lucky as other people my age and had the right of passage of marriage and children (which I feel like is most people's right of passage into adulthood). And it's in that moment that I realized, I am actually a little thankful that I haven't experienced that feeling yet because somehow, I feel this is fitting. I haven't had a "normal" life or an "easy" life, so why would entering in this phase be any different?

My family is falling apart. My mother keeps busy (which I actually think is good for her) but she rarely has time to talk to me. My baby brother has gone to the marines (he's already gone, actually). And my other brother and I...well, we try, but we never really have gotten along. Maybe this is why I've never been able to marry. This is a tough time, and it seems as if there is no joy. I think only the hope of having my own family could salvage my current one and bring everyone together again.

Then again, maybe I don't get to have any joy. Maybe this is just what God has picked out for me. I hope not.

I swear I'll quit posting about death soon. I just can't shake that topic lately. It's haunted me too much this year.

Death defines us.

When you have a parent die, it is indescribable. You go through these roller coaster of emotions. At first, it's like a thrill ride, constantly up and down, and eventually, after a while, it all slows down. The ups and downs are still there, just simply more spaced out.

One thing that has occurred to throughout all of this is that I never knew what kind of man my father was until his passing. Over 500 (500!) people came to his funeral. It was standing room only. All because at some point or another, he had carried them to work, bought them a meal, been a good boss or a friendly neighbor...just an all around good ol' boy always willing to lend a hand. He also had no problem putting people in their place if they weren't doing right by others.  I might have been able to say I'm pretty sure my dad was a good man while he was alive, but now that he's gone, I can definitely say he was a good man.

And then it occurred to me. It was the same with Jesus. People could say while he was alive, "we're pretty sure He's the messiah" but after His death and resurrection, people could definitely say "HE IS the messiah."

Not saying my dad was like Jesus, I'm just drawing the parallel that it was only in death, each man's life got definition. And maybe that is what death is, that last judgement, that ending point that gives each of our lives meaning. We'll spend our whole lives trying to figure out who we are and who God wants us to be only to know at the moment of death.

That's really the first time I've contemplated God or something spiritual in the past three months.

I'm still upset and disappointed at Him. I've been known to be a little begrudging, and surely God knew something like this was going to make me a spiritual zombie. I know it can't be healthy, but work out your salvation with fear and trembling, right?

An Open Letter to My Future Husband

I've been reading a lot of self-help single Catholic gal books, specifically, this one.

And one thing I read that really helps is the idea of writing letters to my future husband, even though I may or may not have met him. I like the idea of all of them piling up and handing them to him on our wedding day before the ceremony just to show him how ardently, how truly, I have loved him and how long I've waited. So I've been writing. I'm not going to share every letter, but this is one I decided I would.

My dear husband,

I feel like I get to know you more every day, even though I've never met you. Is that weird? Is this how it's supposed to work? I feel like by going on all these bad dates and learning what kind of person I am, I am somehow learning who you are too.

You'll be smart, intelligent, and witty. You like studying and will know I'm smart and like good, interesting conversation, but you'll also realize that I don't much care to make myself an academic, though you might be one yourself. You'll respect this difference. In fact, you'll even like it and welcome it.

You'll be polite and hold open doors for me, even though I can hold them open for myself and will let me do it for myself when I want. You'll acknowledge my independent streak, but you'll know when I want and need help.

You'll be my sunshine.  You'll remind me of how good my life is even when I think the world is going to Hell in a hand basket, especially if I'm going through a bout of depression. You'll realize I'm a tad bit dramatic at times about life because of my condition, but you'll know how to deal with me in patience and love.

You'll be holy, and you'll hold me accountable for praying every day, and you will hold my hand during mass. We'll talk about things we read or see or hear, and we'll grow in our faith together.

You are who I want. You are who I dream of. You are the one I am waiting for. And sometimes, when I think about that, it makes me cry, that I already love you so much, but I don't even know you.

I love you, and I'm waiting for you. Come find me.

-V.

(I just can't keep) Hanging On

Sometimes, I write stuff. 

And then I delete it. 

And then re-write it.

And then I finally just think to myself, "Darling, you are absolutely mental."

And then I post I video that sums up how I really feel.

Because I'm too ashamed to talk about specifics, so I'll only speak vaguely. 

Because this shouldn't bother me, but it does. 

So there. 

Birthday Birthday

What a weird birthday.

Usually, I rejoice in the fact of my getting a year older, but this year, I just haven't really cared or been that excited by it.

I mean, I have a lot of good things going on in my life right now.

I have a job I love. I have a boy I really like, who actually wants to attend mass with me to learn about the Church. I have good friends and family supporting me all around.

But I still have a lot of sadness. I think today it finally sank in that my dad is gone. For the longest time, it's just felt like he's not available - like work made him travel to Australia or Germany again, and he just hasn't been able to talk to me. But he always, always, calls me for my birthday. And he couldn't today. And he won't. And I think maybe that's the moment that I realized he's really gone. 

I've been looking for some consolation in all of this, and I think I've finally come to realize that I appreciate the man my father was for me, and I want to marry someone just like him.  Someone who loved his wife, even in her eccentricities, loved his children, and wanted to be their rock and their provider. Someone who always brought flowers and chocolate to all of the women on Valentine's Day, who always put up the Christmas tree with his children, who flew kites every May, who reprimanded us when necessary, but above all, did all of these things with love for those he loved. 

I think I've been searching for that kind of love my entire life, and I feel a little bit like Dorothy.  My heart's desire been in my own front yard this entire time, and I never really realized it until it was gone. And I know God has that kind of love too; I just wish I could feel it a bit more these days.

NFP vs. The Pill: The Difference? - With Pictures!

So all's well that's going well in the dating arena of my life until this past Friday.

Rewind a bit - I've recently met a guy who seems to be the total package - smart, funny, great smile, studying for his PhD, genuine and honest. He lost his mom six years ago, and he's only a few months older than me. He is protestant, but claims no denomination, prefers churches that give the Lord's supper frequently, and is open to learning about the Catholic church and dating a Catholic girl, which he's never done before.  In fact, he's looking to find a new church home because this current one isn't doing anything for him. It's been going well, to say the least, but then, we've only known each other for a month.

Catholic girls. Stereotyped forever thanks to Hollywood and Britney Spears.

By no means was it a bad time. In fact, I had a really, really good time. We watched some movies, played some video games, and he made me dinner. (That hasn't been done for me in a long, long time). While he cooked, we talked, and we talked through dinner too. It's never awkward.

Until we started talking about how much we don't like politics. Until the Catholic thing came up in connection with that. Until he asked about the Catholic views on morality and sex and birth control. And he grilled me. Right there on the spot. Generally, I tried to avoid this topic as long as possible, but inevitably, it always rears its ugly head.

Sad to say, I think he about crapped his pants when I said "I don't use birth control." And then I had to clarify - not the pill, not the condom, not the shot - nothing. And then I proceeded to tell him how embarrassing it is to have to admit to a priest, let alone God, that you've been having sex outside of marriage, and that I didn't have sex (or haven't had sex) in the past four - going on five- years. I think I sent the poor boy into shock.

One challenge you won't conquer.
Ever.
Unless you marry me.
#putaringonit

But he did keep asking questions - what do you do to control your birth rate? How is NFP different from birth control? Does this mean you should have eighteen kids even if you can't afford it?

And I realized, as a single Catholic gal, I can't answer these questions. I can't really explain what NFP is and differentiate it from the rhythm method or what makes it better than using a birth control pill. I felt so silly sitting there saying, "Oh, I don't have sex, and I can tell you why, but I have no idea how to get through a marriage having sex and still being faithful to the Church and God." I also feel like he needs to see a typical Catholic family in action. I think that would help a lot because I think when I told him all this he automatically thought "The Duggars."

Good on the Duggars, but that life is not for me. 

Normally, if a guy posed this question and seemed to frown upon my answer, I'm gone. I say thanks for your time, it's been fun, but we're not for each other. But he said something the other night that makes me hopeful. He said that he prays about us nightly. I don't think that even Heathcliff did that (he might have prayed about what to do about us, but I don't think he ever really prayed about the relationship). He said that he was well aware that there would be some disparity between us, but he feels such a good connection with me that he felt the need to take it to God in prayer. Isn't this what all the self-help single Catholic girl books preach? Isn't this the kinda man that, as a single girl, you want to pursue?

So ladies, if you have any advice, please comment. We're going to see each other again Thursday, and I'd like to be more articulately able to explain the Church's position should the need arise.

Friday Quick Takes

1. 

I was offered another full time teaching position, and I decided not to take it and stay with Estee Lauder. I told God I needed a huge sign to know I was making the right decision, and I feel like I got it in the form of my new boss. She's in the position I would like to eventually be promoted to. She got her  Master's in English, taught for four years, joined Estee Lauder, andnow she is an executive for the company, and she's just in her mid thirties. And her mother just died. It's creepy how similar we are. Moreover, our account executive came through the other day and said she was highly impressed with me and asked me "how mobile I was and what I wanted from Estee Lauder." She hinted that I would be looking at a promotion within the next year. Plus, when I think about going back to teaching, I want to throw up. But staying at Estee Lauder makes me feel peaceful, so I think that answers the question.

2.

The only mass that was offered on the Feast of the Assumption was at 8:00, which I, with I'm sure several other people, couldn't attend because we were at work, and father wouldn't offer a 5:30 mass. Not a happy camper about it. 

3.

I've met someone that I actually really, really like. We have a lot of superficial stuff in common, but we also have some more substantial things in common too. He's protestant, but "really wishes we could all be under the same umbrella. Just Christians, no division," and only likes going to churches that offer the Lord's supper frequently. I have hope for this one. Normally with boys, I'm usually hopeful for about a week or two, then skeptical, then bored or scared. This one, though, I have hope. and I'm almost willing to brave a full on relationship again because of it. Almost. 

4.

Fall weather, where are you? I'm ready for cardigans and sweaters.

5.

My birthday is in less than two weeks. It'll be the first time my Dad won't call me at some outrageous hour and then ask me how old I am, and then say, "No really, is that how old you are now?" I couldn't ever really tell if he was joking with me or actually forgot. 

6.

Hair ties are the best thing ever. They hold your hair, but don't put that gross crease in it.

7.

Pray for me please. I still can't seem to get myself back to mass. I literally had a panic attack walking up to the doors for the Feast of the Assumption. I'm really trying, though. God knows I'm trying. 

One Month Down. The Rest of My Life to Go.

Today marks a month since my dad died.

I'm not sure exactly where I stand. Some days it's okay, and some days, it's like a sucker punch to the stomach all over gain, this weird panicked feeling like the world is falling away from underneath your feet.

Also a confession: I haven't been to mass in a month.  The first Sunday it was my dad's funeral, the second Sunday I was home with my mother who was recovering from knee surgery,  the third sunday I was too depressed, and yesterday, I was too tired. The sad part: I haven't missed going to mass. I get nothing from it anymore. I don't even bother listening to the priest's homilies because they are so unsound at times...I usually just say a rosary. Even worse in my opinion - no one has noticed I've been missing.

Not only that, but I'm really struggling to stay Catholic or even care about being Catholic these days. It's hard to be Catholic when you don't much care for your parish or when you don't have a good Catholic support system around you. It would be so much easier to leave and just be protestant or nothing at all.

I can see how most cradle Catholics lapse so easily. Unfortunately for me, I was catechized too well for that.

I guess I'm not mad at God, but sorely disappointed at the hand I've been given, and I don't really feel like worshipping and following someone who has given me such sorrows the past few years. And quite frankly, I don't feel like talking with Him, much less loving him right now.

But He's a big God, right? He was once human right? So He can take it till I sort myself out. Or do something to show me He still loves me because right now, it doesn't feel much like anything.

I Miss You.

I keep seeing blue ford f-150s driving around town, and I keep thinking to myself, "hey, Daddy's back. He's come to hang out, have dinner, and visit."

But then it hits me. And then it hurts. So very, very much. I'd trade twenty years off my life just to have him back for twenty more. Or I'd give anything just to start over from this point again.

Anything. Just to have this again.  As weird and wacky and crazy as we were. 

There is a hole in my heart, and not even God and can fill it right now. 

A Strange Thing Happened.

A strange thing happened.

Someone at the funeral told me that there would be a sign that my dad was ok. I didn't really believe them. I thought it was more worn out platitudes. Granted, I thought he might do a short stint in purgatory due to the fact that he never went to church, but he lived the gospel every day of his life.

But, I haven't posted this information here, so let me begin by saying, for the past two months, my previous landlord has pursued a lawsuit against me and my roommate in small claims court.  I talked about it at length with my Dad, and he said she was just bullying us because we were young, she didn't like us, and it was personal. (She didn't need the money at all). He never thought I should pay her a dime and that I should stand my ground.

I had just said to a co-worker after my car breaking down, after my Dad dying, "I'm going to get home this afternoon, and she's going to have sent us an e-mail saying she won, and I owe her money."

There was an e-mail that night.

All it said was that she was dropping the lawsuit.

Holy. Cow.

I think that was my Dad. I think he fixed that for me because he still loves me and is watching over me.
And if that's the case, he's not in purgatory, but in Heaven if it was him. (Heaven!) I don't know anything for sure, but I really feel like that was him helping me out.

HEAVEN! I can't be certain, but I feel it in my gut, and I feel a lot better about him being gone now.

When It Rains, It Pours.

I'm sitting here staring at a text message on my phone that I have apprehensions about sending.

I need to break down. And I need someone who understands that, who knows how I am when I cry, who knows why I need someone different to break down with than my family.

My car broke down today, and I called my mother crying because this is something my Daddy could have fixed and would have fixed. Now, neither she nor I know what to do, and I barely made it to work. But she refused to talk to me while I was crying stating, "she couldn't handle it and wasn't going to handle it." She actually made me hang up, stop crying, and call her back. Moreover, she said since she couldn't handle me crying she wants to force me back onto medication and wants me to stay barred out all the time (that's Xanax) which I refuse to do because I want to be sad for my Dad.

Later, I called to tell her I made it home ok, and she started talking for some crazy reason about my brother's girlfriend, which I didn't want to hear about. Earlier in the week, she said she would give me some of my Dad's life insurance money to use to put a down payment on a car; now she says fix it on your own or call your oldest brother.

The thing she doesn't realize is that you can't depend on him. He's highly immature and irresponsible and never answers his phone when I call, and my baby brother is just nineteen and too far away. He can't fix this either. 

The other night, Heathcliff called and talked to me for the first time since we broke up. He said he was sorry, about everything. And told me that if I needed anything, call him. He sounded remorseful. He said, "I know you probably don't want to talk to me or my ear is not appreciated or welcome, but I do want to offer it if you need it."

So I'm sitting here looking at this blinking cursor. Wondering if I should press send or not.

I know what my heart wants, but I also know what my head thinks. I wish I knew the right thing to do.

The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done

The hardest thing I've ever done is lay my Daddy to rest.

It was harder than becoming Catholic.
Harder than breaking off an engagement.
Harder than my Nana's death.

I never realized how close we actually were, but that's not to say I took my Daddy for granted. I loved every minute I had with him, and death was continually at the forefront of his mind since I was a little girl. Back then, I just thought he was overly sentimental when he used to tell me "You're driving my most precious cargo to school. You obey the speed limits and do right driving." Of course I rolled my eyes, but I knew he meant it.

I'm lucky that I can say I knew my Daddy, that he was there for me. He fed me every night at 2 am while playing Super Mario on the NES in the 80s. He tried to teach me how to ride a bike. He took me hunting. We flew kites every May. We fished together every spring. He bought me sno cones and ice cream in summer. He taught me how to spit out of the truck like a boy. He scared boys off when I got older. He was patient with me in learning how to do Algebra and made me practice an extra hour every night because he knew I was weak in my math skills. He always helped me do my homework. He got me jobs during the summer so I could work to pay for my college. He pushed me to do my best and graduate and not be boy crazy. If I hurt myself, I called him, and he could fix it, or if not, he would give me the money to go to the emergency room. He would give me 100$ almost every time I saw him just for doing good in life. I called him about taxes. About moving. About shower heads and broken down cars. About jobs and careers. He was my rock. My guide. When life was wrong, I went home to Daddy because he fixed it.

He was my first and best man in my life. The only boy I ever wanted to white knight things for me. He was my first superhero, and the first guy I loved.

I can remember being six or seven, and riding in that old grey truck listening to Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. He would look over and tell me, "Now, when it's my time to go, and it will come, I want you to play this song. And I don't want nobody crying and sobbing and all that mess. It's not a funeral. It's a homegoing because I'll be going to the good Lord. So I want ya'll to be happy. And I want you to play this song and Elton John's Funeral for a Friend and dance on my grave." And of course, I'm sure I was a bit bleary eyed, so he would always say, "But that ain't for a while." He told me that most of my life. In fact, we had just had the conversation again back when my Nana died in January. When my mother left the room, he looked at me and said, "I mean it. And I know that you'll be the only one in the family to make sure it happens." I promised him I would.

And so I did. After everyone had left. After the grave was dug. After the casket was put in the Earth and covered up. I got my phone out and played those two songs, and I danced on his grave just like he had always wanted. 

I just keep wishing I understood God's timing.

The only thing, the entire weekend, anyone said to me that has made me feel a little bit better is this: "Your Daddy is not gone dear. He is just in a different part of your life. He will watch over you and take care of you now, and I promise you, there going to be time you feel like he is in the room with you, and Baby, he is. He won't leave you. He loved you too much for that and knows you need him."

And I thought about it. If I believe in the communion of saints like I say I really do, at some point, Daddy will be in Heaven. And Daddy can help me. I can pray to him. I can still talk to him. I can still ask him to help me, to guide me. He may not be able to fix the sink anymore, but I can ask him to send someone my way who can, be it a plumber or my future husband. That is the only thing I have found comfort in so far.

Still, I wish Daddy had been 82 instead of 52.

My Daddy Died Today.

I. can't. stop. crying.

WHY? I mean, I understand all the theological reasons and all that, but right now, they are unsatisfactory answers. WHY my dad? WHY this age?  WHY when he got regular checkups and the doctor told him he was okay? WHY so soon after my grandmother? WHY WHY WHY?

It feels like God is just picking on the Doherty family. What else can be thrown our way? And I know it's not Him per se, but the effects of sin, but I want to hold someone responsible. I guess I should be pointing fingers at the Devil, but I know God has more power, so why didn't he step in and do something because my father was only 52. He was too young. I'm too young. He'll never walk me down the aisle. He'll never meet his grandchildren.

For as wack as my family is, we at least retained the traditional nuclear family structure. My Daddy was the head, followed by my mom, me, and on down the line. Now I understand why God says be kind to widows. Granted we are all grown, but we are still children. We've barely even scratched the beginning of our lives, and now, we have to take care of our mother. I'm not complaining, I'm just stating that being in this situation gives me a new appreciation for those verses. 

Remember how I said 27/2012 was looking to better than 26/2011? Yeah, right. This year can suck it. 

Feel free to give me a spiritual pep talk. I'm not going to get it anywhere else. 

Another Job Offer!

What?!?!

Yes, you read that right.

My old employer called to offer me a full time position.

What on earth?!

I Had a Catholic Date.

I just got back from a date. With a Catholic boy.

We went to mass. (mass!)

We ate dinner at a little Italian bistro on main street.

We argued (teasingly) over whether "orderly" was an adverb or and adjective in a particular sentence.

We saw Elvis' birthplace.

We missed our turn and got lost on the highway for ten minutes.

We might do all this again sometime soon.

And I just might like that to happen, very very much.

Men vs. Women: A Meditation

I think it's safe to say that I've been doing a lot of meditation on men and women recently. Moreover, I've bought a single Catholic girl's dating guide, and in passing conversation with one of those Catholic boys I mentioned earlier, in talking about the LGBT movement, I stated, "I don't understand it. The relationship between a man and a woman will always be deeper and more mysterious than the one between a man and a man or a woman and a woman." I've also been watching sappy Korean romance dramas. Needles to say, this has been at the forefront of my mind lately.

I'm not saying I've got it all figured out, but something did occur to me the other day while reading an article about how young men used to be primed in manners and behavior toward young ladies. Boys were taught to be gentlemen. Gentlemen go out of their way for women - opening doors, pulling out chairs, letting ladies walk out first. But really, when you think about it, both parties are actively doing something.

First, men are active givers. We need to look no further than the Holy Trinity to see this example played out. God the Father gave us His Son. His Son gave us the Holy Spirit. Giving, giving, giving. And it's all characterized as a male action. Men (or men with properly ordered desires) like to give as well. Whether it be gifts in the process of trying to woo a girl, or providing for the family he has created, men like to give. And not to be too crass, but you also see this idea at work in the marriage act. Men give their sperm to a woman.

Women, on the other hand, I believe, occupy a far more unique position. Women are receivers. Far too long has literature and popular opinion characterized this as a passive act.  In fact, probably the worst thing to happen regarding this is the advent of feminism. Really though, reception is an active action. When given a gift, a person is never obligated to receive it. And on top of that, a gift needs to be received with a humble spirit. This is a major fault I have with feminism, and by extension, the LGBT movement - it's rooted in pride. For example, I know a man can open the door for me, but it doesn't necessarily mean he thinks I'm helpless. No, the man is going out of his way, giving a little extra to me, to make my life a little easier. In response, I should graciously and humble accept his action, and by doing so, I am acknowledging reception of his small gift to me. Biblically, of course, the pinnacle of womanly reception would be Mary. But we all know Mary had to actively accept the gift she was given. Moreover, the gift of both Jesus and the Spirit, was given to the church, who is inherently characterized as the Bride of Christ, a female.  And again, the marriage act also exemplifies this. A woman receives the sperm of a man. Just as giving is characterized as a male act, receiving is a very female act.

A lot of our literature that we like to read, especially our romantic comedies, are about this too. Specifically, I'm thinking of The Taming of the Shrew by Shakespeare. The shrew is tamed, but what's really happening is that Bianca is learning how to be a gracious and humble receiver of the gifts her lover is trying to give to her.

So there you have it. Feel free to discuss. Like I said, it's just something I've been pondering.

What's Different?

So, I re-read my last post, and it's got me thinking.

What happened? What's different? Why did I ever diverge away from Catholic boys in the first place?

I don't know if it was I wanted the complete opposite of Heathcliff or what. I do know trying to find a Catholic boy in Columbus pretty much made me want to give up hope and dating completely.

In fact, I almost went screaming the other direction when the first Catholic boy contacted me. I looked at his profile and his message and told my roommate "No, no, no! He's Heathcliff all over again." To which she rolled her eyes, read his message, and his profile and said,  "He's your type. That's what you like. You need to give him a chance."

So why am I gung ho and okay with this now? Is it just time? Am I ready to date after 1 year and 3 months? (I'll answer that for you - no! I quite like being single, and the idea of having to give up some of myself to another person, well, that just doesn't appeal to me at all). Is it because I'm so okay with myself and being predominately by myself that I'm now being afforded real opportunities with Catholic boys?

I'm not sure. It's just something to think about, for a moment, at least.

Oh my goodness! Catholic Boys!

I have seen the light. Dating/Talking/Hanging out with Catholic boys makes all the difference in the world.

Currently, there are about three boys in play, two of which, are Catholic. And my, oh my, how different it is talking with those two compared to the not Catholic boy.

They're smart, funny, witty, intelligent, and they don't look at me like I have three heads when I mention a saint. We can play the "hey guess my confirmation name" game. We can talk about our opinions of Vatican II, our priests, and our parishes. I don't have to explain why I can only eat fish on Friday (and it's not because I want you to pay for my expensive sushi). It's like you have an instant bond with someone you don't really know.

That's not to say the non-Catholic boy isn't smart, funny, or intelligent. It's just there's not as strong of a connection there.

I'm completely open to a cradle Catholic or a Catholic convert. But now I can see why people would encourage me to date only Catholic boys.

As a side note, I start my new job Monday. It's weird. I feel like my life is finally getting some traction in the right direction.

I Turn in My Two Weeks Notice Tomorrow

I got the call yesterday. I have a full-time job starting May 28, 2012 at our local Belk as an Estee Lauder counter girl. I am not taking a pay cut, picking up insurance, and I will have the ability to earn commission on all my sales. The company also has it set up where I could move up quickly, if I wanted to. This is really a blessing. And even though I knew I wanted it, I realized I was better off letting God decide what was better for me: teaching or retail. In fact, I told Him that he could pick because Either way, He h provided for me and that in itself is enough. Thank you Jesus And thank you to everyone who prayed with me.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow!

I have internet again! And I think the interview went really well, but it was really intense.

Now, we wait for a phone call tomorrow. The next step is whether or not the Belk store manager decides to higher me.

St. Joseph, let's do this! Pretty please. :)

Prayers Please

Keep praying. I'm in the last stages of interviews for this full time job, and I'm one out a few who's being interviewed. I would write more, but this is school internet. When I get Internet installed at my new place, I'll elaborate. Friday, though, we'll know something for sure.

Oh my. That was a mobile post from my phone because I have no Internet right now and that turned out gibberish. Here's a translation; I am moved in to my new house that I am renting! I am very excited about it, and can't wait to post a picture of my mantle, but I need a picture of the Pope first. Still in the running for that full time job - just keep praying with me. :) I met a cute Catholic convert boy. He came innto the church this past Easter. That is all I wish to say for now. :) Is it possible for a song go be a prayer? I can't help but have this song in repeat, and I am NOT one for cheesy, praise band Jesus music (not that there's anything wring with that). But for some reason, especially after this Lent, the lyrics. If you can't see the video, just YouTube Matt Maher - Your Grace Is Enough if you haven't heard the song before.

Q @??? R(? ??
/?A??? ??A?w????nP ? ?????^???t??,???eP? j?A?? g??e

Q ??0?
???azY?PH?nz?} ?A?w}^v??iw?????o{?J?
e}N ???2(? ??nzxL ??t4(???lv 4????a??~??c??????t???w? ?)=?f??n ] ??nw?} ??r ???u6 DO??

I might have a full-time job.

Alright ladies. We all know the power of prayer.

I've had a lot of time to think, and I have been toying with the idea of leaving the teaching profession altogether for over a year now. This past week, I finally made up my mind to do it when the opportunity presented itself.

God apparently heard me, or maybe He's been waiting for me to come to that realization because at first, I was just applying for part time jobs to get through the summer because enrollment is low. But one of the jobs I applied to liked me so much, they have offered me full-time work.

The only catch is that I have one more interview to get through before the job is mine. This is a really great opportunity with a really great company with potential for me to move up the corporate ladder quickly if I so choose.

So please, please, please pray with me that I get picked. For once, I feel like I'm moving in the right direction, and I have a sense a peace about this, but still, extra prayers couldn't hurt.

St. Joseph, pray for us.

Life On Standby

I'm lost. Not in that I'm-going-to-lose-my-faith sorta way; I think I was too well-catechized for that. But I'm at a loss about what to do about my current state in life.

In May, I will have been graduated from grad school for four years. Four years of part time jobs. Four years of living check to check. Four years of promises of full time work and benefits, only to be let down again and again.

Moreover, teaching has lost its luster. I became a teacher out of necessity, but I was also once bright-eyed enough to believe I could change hearts and minds.  But the way the system works, it doesn't happen. When I realized I value teaching as a job the same as my other part-time jobs, it just became clear. I could care less whether I stay in this career or not. It's just money. And I don't really care about money, so long as I have enough to live comfortably (which I realize is asking a lot these days). What I really care about is connecting with people, especially kids. I can't tell you how many times at the Y I look at some of my after school kids and realize, "they just want attention. they just want someone to be happy for them and with them." And when their parents walk in, I realize why -they just aren't getting it at home.

And in the back of my mind I keep feeling that voice - "but what about the missions? what about the orphans who have no parents, who don't even have after school caregivers to hug them? what of these children?"

It terrifies me to leave home. And I do consider this place my home now.  In fact, the other day when I thought I would have to leave for the summer because I couldn't afford to stay here, I cried and cried and cried. My friends are here. My family visits me enough. And I like my youth group that I work with. And it's a big thing for me to say I feel like a place is home because I've been such a transient soul all my life, and my parents were such nomads when I was younger. And I think that says something, for me to call a place home.

So, if I'm not a teacher, then what? If I am still hesitant to go on the missions, then what? I just have no clue what I'm doing. Everything is up in the air. And it's been that way since 2009. And I'm fine just kind of floating along, but some direction would be nice after four years of floating.

How do you find it though? And not to mention, the whole idea of I really do believe that I'm called to marriage as opposed to religious life. That means my primary vocation is in complete limbo because it depends upon my Mr. Right waltzing into my life (or me asking him to waltz with me). So I'm basically just filling up my time with my secondary vocation until then, right? In turn, that makes me second guess my past decisions about previous boys. That maybe I missed my chance, and I'm going to be alone for quite a bit because of bad and misguided decisions. Or maybe that's just nostalgic thinking, but I know looking back for too long doesn't do me any favors.

Prolonged adolescence is what it boils down to, which is becoming more and more common for my generation. For the most part, it just feels like my life is on standby. Doesn't mean I'm not enjoying myself though.

Lenten Lessons

Lent has be weirdly productive and unproductive for me if that makes any sense.

I came in with the intent of giving up meat and dating, and well, meat fell by the wayside pretty quickly, especially now that I am running around 9 miles a week.  But the no getting serious about boys has stuck, even though I have several options should I wish to try to pursue anything right now.

I also took on praying more; that fell through, but I've been veiling. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but I've had a hat on my head for every Sunday mass during Lent and I love it. It's actually a lot easier to do than I originally thought, and I will probably continue the practice throughout the rest of the year.

I've also let go of some bitterness I've been carrying with me for a while. It feels good letting go, and I wonder why I just couldn't have done it sooner. I guess it's just my personality.

So I went in with these intentional goals, and most of those haven't been met. But I've also met a lot of unintentional goals.

That's really all that's been going on for now. Well, that, and I've been contemplating if it's possible to get a guy to convert because I have better luck with non-Catholic boys than Catholic ones, but that's another entry for another time.

What I've Learned So Far This Lent

• I re-read through all of my entires so far. I've done nothing but whine and complain about the same two boys on here for the past year. Why didn't anyone tell me to shut up? It's okay; I'm telling myself to shut up about it and get over it. I have much bigger things to worry about than why a boy doesn't or does like me. Like say, oh, I don't know, working my way into Heaven? No boy is going to do that for me. 
• Letting go has been surprisingly easy. But I'm guessing that's if you don't count all the time leading up to lent. But seriously, it's like a burden has been lifted.
• I had an a-ha moment the other day when reading a Catholic Single Girl Dating Guide. To paraphrase, "the physical intensity of the relationship should match the emotional intensity of the relationship." Seems like a no brainer, but whoa! No one has ever explained it to me like that before. Totally takes care of that awkward 3rd date, must kiss you good night thing and hopefully take you home thing. After three dates, I definitely am not that emotionally invested in a guy to kiss him, much less anything else. 
• I made an internet friend who's Catholic. (Yes, it's come to making internet Catholic friends). He's recently brought up some very good points on free will which I've had a week to ponder, and I still need to ponder more. But it was basically another a-ha moment of sorts. 
• I'm not buying the house, but we did work out a sweet deal where we get to rent it if this last potential buyer says no.
• I've often thought I'm stuck out in the middle of Catholic nowhere for the simple fact that I'm supposed to provide a good Catholic example to my friends who aren't religious. And in fact, the other day, when talking about our trip to New Orleans, my friends suggested I go to confession in the traditional style confessional in New Orleans and go to mass. My not religious friends suggested this as something fun for us to do in New Orleans. And they also joke all the time that if anything ever goes wrong with me, "No penicillin. Call a priest." And I know they aren't poking fun; they're being sincere in a funny way. 

So, it hasn't really been a traditional type lent for me, but I'm amazed at the things I'm giving up. Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ. 

Here's Your Sign.

I am an idiot. 

And gutted. 

But you pick up and move on.

And I'm getting really good at doing just that. 

You Can't Go Home Again.

I know you're not supposed to talk about what you gave up for Lent (that whole humility thing), but since this is mainly an online diary for me, and I'm one of those types that has to think things through on paper or else I don't think at all, so I need to talk about it.

I gave up the incessant search for a boyfriend. I've given it up several times before to no avail. This Lent, I made that my intention. Oddly enough, it's only increased the amount of boys who want to talk to me. And granted, I am going on dates, I'm not really worried or looking for a boyfriend. Moreover, no boy really catches my eye or interest. Several nice dates, nice boys, but not a one who just makes me laugh, takes my breath away, understands my stupid obsession with silly bands and The Hunger Games.

Moreover, I gave up on boys to discern about my current vocation - about whether I'm supposed to stay in Mississippi or go and leave it all behind. It's looking like my hopes of the missions are just pipe dreams as my job seems to be quickly heading towards full time work, and I might be buying a house with my roommate. Might is the key operating word there. It kinda scares me. What if I'm tied down here forever? Then again, everyone (from MS) who leaves, always comes back here. They get homesick. Would that happen to me? Or would I be ok with the city and not eaten by the wolves? And on an unrelated note...

Tonight, while sitting on our couches, my roommate and I were talking about the blind date I went on and some other petty drama that people are trying to cause with us. Ireland, if you recall, apologized. We've talked a few times since then, and it's so obvious we both want to hang out and pick up where we left off. But how can we? His ex-girlfriend still makes it a point to meddle in my affairs a year later. An entire year later, she still can't let it go. An entire year later, he and I finally talk again. I told my roommate Ireland also sent word that he apologized to her, to which she replied, "I cannot and will not forgive him for lying to me, and for lying to you and having to watch you hurt after what he did." I can understand that.

Still, if I ever see him out, and I'm sure I know the answer to this, but I just want to ask him, "If you could take that night back, would you? If you could take it all back, and let's just start all over again, would you?" I know his and my answer would be yes. But you can't go home again.

Thing is, I still care about him, and I would still date him in spite of everything. I don't know if that's stupid or forgiving. Maybe it's a little of both. But all I know is he's the only person who's made me laugh so hard it hurt to smile. He's the only boy who's waited on me hand and foot. He's the only boy who's ever made me feel like I was special, like I was rare and something to be treasured and treated with respect. And maybe he's a pipe dream too, just like the missions.

Maybe that's what this Lent is all about, learning to let go of things that I hold on to for way too long or situations I can't control. But what's the difference between that and hope? Whatever the answers to these questions are, I do know this: you can't go home again, but oh, how I wish we could.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Internet Today.

Lately, I've been thinking about the missions again.

And I have my heart on one in particular. It's based of out Tucson, Arizona and then goes into Mexico.

On the dating site I joined, (which is a secular, free site, btw), a guy up in Vermont sent me a chat message. Turns out, he and I had a lot in common.

And I don't know why I did, but I told him I wanted to go on this mission and sent him the link.

And wouldn't you know it, he used to live at that very mission. So I got to ask him all the questions that had been nagging at me about it, and it just seems like a really good thing.

But how funny is it that a random stranger messages me on an internet dating site just happened to live in the mission that I want to serve at?

It's one of those things that makes you think, but ultimately, you have to smile and keep discernin'.

If I see many liturgical abuses going on, and I do not feel that I am being fed spiritually... If I know other people who have approached father in a loving manner and asked that things change only to have their heads bitten off... If I am participating in lay-parish activities, and yet, after almost a year, no one has bothered to really get to know me... Am I obligated to stay in my parish? Don't I have a canonical right to go somewhere else or is the burden of conducting spiritual growth put on me? I know writing the bishop about my concerns should be the next step, but I don't much think he would care. I used to think picking and choosing your parish was so Protestant; now I'm just so hungry for a good spiritual home.Im m just so tired of the bad (or non-existent) homilies, bad liturgical practices, and lack of out reach when I'm sitting here saying, "here I am!" I just don't know what to do, but it's wearing me down enough that I think I might go to another parish for a while.

Is "Unconsecrated Single" a True Vocation or a Missed Opportunity?

Warming: It's a bit of a rant, but I feel like this is a dialog that needs to be had. If you feel like sharing, please do. I don't normally advocate sharing of my posts because this is a highly personal blog, but I feel very strongly about this topic.

In light of spending my seventh Valentine's Day alone, I found this article that asks the question, is "unconsecrated single" a true vocation or is it simply a consequence of missed opportunity? A quick summary of the article's argument is this: We have primary and secondary vocations.  What we do (e.g. our jobs) is secondary and by no means can it be our primary vocation because a primary vocation involves vows and taking a spouse (God, Church, or person) that helps us to reach our peak spirituality here one Earth. For everyone, that means religious or marital life. No where in the Catechism does it mention the idea of "unconsecrated lay single person" as a primary vocation.  That's because it's not supposed to be.

So what gives? Why do I hear people talking about "unconsecrated single" as a legitimate primary vocation? The answer is simple. Go ask any "unconsecrated single" this one question, "was this a choice or did you just not find your match?" I guarantee you the answer will be, "No I'm not (or wasn't) single by choice." And any good single Catholic boy or girl will tell you the plethora of reasons why his or her journey to marriage just didn't pan out. More importantly, the right match may be made, but every person on this Earth has free will. It's possible that the right match didn't heed the call to marriage. Then, you have a pair of Catholics with missed callings. Moreover, if the answer is "yes, I chose it of my own free will,"then that person was probably called to religious life but just didn't answer.

My point is this: There can't possibly be a vocation of a "lay unconsecrated single" - at least not to me. I just don't think God created the bulk us for being completely alone and chaste. If a single Catholic does feel that way, he or she is probably called to the religious life. God did, however, say "Go forth and multiply." And that is in our nature for most. So for many, marriage is our vocation to holiness. No, what we're experiencing is a prolonged search - one that we may never get an answer to, one that can be very painful and lonely, especially if you're doing everything by the good Book and the Catechism.

The catch is that there is a growing number of faithful Catholic lay singles. And this is concerning for a family centric, marriage centered church. Soon, Mother Church is going to have to reach out to us because I'm afraid we're going to outnumber the married couples. And if she doesn't, well, the allure of do-as-you-please protestantism and secularism will probably steal the wishy washy ones of us away, and our souls with them. For the rest of us who do remain faithful, I guess we'll just have to be content with offering it up.

All in all, it just seems like there are only two paths to holiness - religious or marriage. Anything in between just sounds like a lack of vocation and a missed opportunity.

Looking Ahead to Lent

Something is happening to me lately. I can't describe it.

It feels like a set of growing pains coming on. I'm actually excited for Lent.

I have tentatively figured out what I'm giving up; it's the same thing I tried to give up last year, and I got heavily distracted.

Dating. 

It's the biggest obstacle (besides that and my phlegmatic tendency to sleep 15 more minutes than do morning prayer and a few other things) between myself and God. Boys. distract. me.

Moreover, I don't know why, but the more I think about missionary life, the more I feel I want it. And it's not just as of late. The desire has always been there, but just when I get up enough courage to do something, some boy comes along, and I get distracted.

I stumbled across this site yesterday, Singles Serving Orphans, and for some reason, it just feels right. Like that is where I need to be to dip my toes in the water. Plus, the retreat is based on the writings of two people who speak to me very deeply - Pope JP II and Mother Teresa.

I don't know what it has been about my Nana's death, but there is some sort of fire under my butt now to love, love, love. To love everyone around me like that woman loved me, my brothers, her husband. To show Christ's love to the crack baby that survived and was adopted and is now having trouble remembering his spelling words. To show Christ's love despite the child who is a bully and overpowers little five year olds. To love like Christ the girl who goes around town trying to ruin my reputation because she's still upset about something that happened over a year ago. To love like Christ the ex-best-friend-now-acquaintance who's so vehemently and violently pro-choice. To love the boy who helped provided me with the greatest gift of all, becoming Catholic, even though he broke my heart.

Saint Therese of Liseux, pray for me.

Blessed Mother Teresa, pray for me.

Saint Veronica, pray for me. 

Holy Mary, pray for me.

Your will be done, O Lord, not mine. 

Stuff Catholic Girls Say

Oh, I must be pretty Catholic because I say and do almost all of these things. And at about 2:00 min in the first video, I completely experienced that! LOL

Please watch these; they are hilarious!

Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming (For at Least a Post)

I'm still reeling from the death of my Nana, and my brain is still kind of mush so bulleted list presentation it is.

• I've got a guy that I really like, and he seems to really like me, but I already know there's no hope. 
• 1. He hates MS - I'm just not sure I want to leave. Or if I do, I want it to be by myself so I know that it was for myself.
• 2. He's not Catholic, though he is Christian. - It's like I'm speaking Catholiceese when I try to explain things. Funny thing is, Catholicism is a part of his culture, so I'm kinda amazed he knows so little being that he's somewhat ethnocentric. 
• Lent is coming. I'm not sure what I'm giving up. Or rather, I might make myself veil at mass for all of Lent because that would be a pretty hard thing for me to do, to stick out like that. Then again, I probably already stick out being so young and coming to mass and sitting in the middle of 80 year olds. 
• Is it weird that I think it's easier just to be alone? I mean, there are so many boys with so much potential, but then when it comes down to it, they all just fall short. Am I just getting pickier? Or is this some indication that I'm still burned out and in need of a sabbatical? 
• I still think about the missions a lot. Problem is, I only want to go to far off places and help the orphans there (read: Africa, Ireland, etc) Knowing my luck, I'd get stuck in the Bronx. White country girl in the Bronx = no bueno. Then again, doing the work of the Lord, I would assume I'd be ok by myself. But really, wanting to go to the missions just only to help exotic orphans when there is so much to be done here stateside is so self-serving. That's not the kind of person who goes on missions. So continue to contemplate it, I will. 

Problems of Purgatory

I read this today, and Purgatory has been on my mind since my Nana died.

I mean, everyone was consoling everyone in my family with "She's in Heaven now" and "She's reunited with her husband." And so everyone was comforted by these statements because everyone is Protestant.

Everyone except me, that is.

Little Catholic ol' me who boo-hoo-ed the entire funeral because no one could say anything to comfort me. Sure, my Nana's Earthly suffering had ended, but what next? More than likely, she went to purgatory. And purgatory is no Heaven. And in some ways, it might be worse than Earth depending upon how one lived her life.

I don't think she was baptized. So did she go directly to Hell? Surely, a just God would not send a woman who so fervently believed in Jesus to Hell. So did she experience baptism of desire?

If she did, she made it to Purgatory at least. How much time will she have to spend there? Will she be held to the same standards as a Catholic? Did any of her time on Earth, any of her suffering earn her some indulgences since she may or may not have been familiar with the idea of redemptive suffering? Will some of her sins be automatically forgiven and her time lessened if she had a mental disorder that caused her to commit sins?

And who will pray for her release from Purgatory besides little ol' me? Certainly no one else in my family.  And what of my grandfather, an upstanding man, a good father, and a Methodist minister? What of him? Is he in Purgatory too?

But other people can pray others in general out of Purgatory, right?

Very rarely do situations remind me of bible verses, but I can't help but think of 1 Corinthians 13:11
And then I noticed it's the same chapter as popular love/wedding/theological virtues scriptures.

I can't help but feel I'm being told something here, but I can't make sense of it.
Either I'm too tired, too spiritually inexperienced, or too sinful to understand.
Or maybe some combination of the three.

But I used to like the idea of Purgatory before I became Catholic.
Now it really bothers me.
Still, I'll pray for my Nana, and all the dead.

We laid my Nana to rest today.

It feels so surreal. I only have a few thoughts floating around in my head. So bulleted list order it is.

• It was a lovely Protestant service, but I couldn't help but feel we were all missing something by not having a funeral mass. It's like I knew the only thing that could calm me down is the peace of the Eucharist. And how nice would it have been for us to all be taking communion together?
• My Nana, though overall a good lady, still had some hang ups throughout her life. Did she forgive and forget during the course of her disease? Everyone was all talking about how she was definitely in Heaven; poor little old me is wondering how much time she has to spend in Purgatory, or if she even has to spend any in Purgatory at all because she suffered so much here. Then again, she didn't offer it up, so it doesn't count right? Or does it because she was Protestant and really didn't know any better? Unfortunately, I can't turn to my family for answers to these questions since no one is Catholic. 
• She went so quickly. But she outlived all her friends and family and got rid of a bout with pneumonia not too long ago. She always said that even though she loved us greatly, when her husband died, she was ready for God to take her any day. Some afternoons, I'd come home and she'd be back in her chair crying about how much she missed my Grandfather and how she couldn't understand why she was still here. In my heart of hearts, I'd like to believe she worked things out. And even deeper in my heart of hearts, I'd like to believe that someone, a guardian angel or maybe even my grandfather, offered her the chance to pass or to stay while on her way to the hospital. I really believe she had a choice, and I believe she took it. I just feel it in my gut. 
• Our priest locks our chapel. During daylight hours. Honestly, what's the point of being Catholic if I can't go worship and sit with Jesus any time I want? One of the reasons I left the Protestant faith(s) was because it was so Sunday/Wednesday-ish. I want church, God, Jesus in my everyday. I honestly could have marched right over to his house, knocked on his door, and pestered him to open it for me just so I could sit and cry in front of Jesus for a bit.
• But how awesome is it that I could walk over to my priest's house and ask him to open up the chapel? Yet another cause for priestly celibacy is that while he may lose out on lay life as a father and parish member, he gets an entire Parish as family. And parish members don't feel bad or guilty for bothering him or "taking up his time" with their problems because what else is a single priest with no kids going to do besides pray, visit the elderly, and run and maintain a parish? He has no tension between his family, work, and spiritual life. They are all balanced in his vocation. He has no other obligations but to the Church. 
• I'm still mad, but I'm not mad at God. I'm mad at our fallen Human condition. I just know God never wanted or intended our existence to be this way. The is evidenced by the fact that He put us in Paradise. We took it away from ourselves. And because He loved us, even if we screwed everything up and threw everything off balance, He sought to make it right. He wanted us to have eternal life, to have paradise. He gave us Jesus. He set the scales back aright. In a perfect world, these sorts of things would not happen. I'm not claiming to know the thoughts of God, but the more I ponder it, the more I am just wholeheartedly convinced if He didn't want us to live eternally with Him, for us to have Paradise once again, to spare us of suffering, infirmaries, and time, He never would have sent Jesus to redeem us. Obvious and simple, but it carries so much weight these days. 
• All the more reason to keep my eyes on the Kingdom. 
• I miss my Nana more now than ever. It was one thing to spend time with her and know she couldn't talk to me or move or go shopping with me or curl my hair or play solitaire or sew with me; it's completely another thing to know I'll never even see her again as long as I am Earth bound. And I think our bodies instinctively know this isn't how things were meant to be. And I think that's why, religious or not, we cry when someone dies. 

I can't articulate my thoughts completely. That's just what's floating around. 

Oh 2012. I hoped for the promise of change, and oh how I've gotten it in some of the most unexpected ways. 

My Nana Died Today.

And I am beside myself.  She either lived next door or with us for most of my life. It was only when I went to grad school that I didn't see her as much.

Growing up, I always thought it sucked to have two mothers. One mother that was biological and sometimes treated me more as a sister, and my grandmother, who taught me how to sew, set a table, make a bed, bake a pie, and play solitaire. This is the woman who encouraged me to dream of travel, big cities, bright lights, musicals, and to get an education. As time went on and my Nana's condition declined, my mother stepped in and actually started "mothering" me. Oddly enough, I think this is exactly how it needed to be all along. I don't think my mother was actually mature enough for a child when she had one, and I think she needed time to grow into it. It was only when she started taking care of my Nana that we started gelling well as mother and daughter. Now, that I think about it, I was actually lucky to have two mothers, even as difficult as it might have been at times or how much my angsty teenage self proclaimed I hated it.

I never got to say goodbye. It. just. happened. No one in the family had time to say goodbye. No one made it there in time it happened so quickly. And it's so sad because I know she told me once that she wanted someone to hold her hand.

Father John has said before that he doesn't like it when people say, "Oh, it was just his or her time to go. It was God's plan." I wholeheartedly agree. This wasn't God's plan. One of the consequences of sin was death. Death, leaving one another behind, this was not His intentions at all. He originally put us in a paradise with no diseases like Alzheimer's. No need for things or people to pass away. We did this to ourselves, and now we answer for it.

But that's the beauty of Heaven, right? That paradise can be restored. That we can be healed of infirmaries. That things and people can last. That all of us will agree that God is good, God is great.  And if there is anything I needed right before Lent to remind me how great the promise of Heaven is, well, as awful as it sounds, maybe this is the reminder I needed.

Eternal rest grant unto Jamie J., O Lord, 
and let perpetual light shine upon her. 
May she rest in peace.

Amen. 

I said no.

So something kinda crazy happened the other day.

I said No.

I said no to something I had wanted and wished and hoped and prayed for a very long time.

While I might be stuck on Heathcliff in some respects, I don't want him back. But with Ireland, it was always a different story. I always wanted him back, even when I saw him in town or at a bar with another girl.

And not only did he apologize to me on facebook, but he texted me as well. I told him there was no way we could go back to how it was. If we hung out, I'd want to date, and I couldn't wager him over my friends. He agreed that he missed me, and if we were around each other, he'd still want to date too, but he realized he can't make me choose between my friends and him. And he didn't want me to, either.

So our conversation ended with no. Even though I wanted things to be different. Even though he agreed he would date me again.

What changed my mind? Following the sense of peace. Just when thinking about dating him again, I just got the sense it would be wrong, a mistake. And when I thought about leaving things as they are, I just knew it was right. And all this felt counter intuitive to my heart. But you can't go home again, right?

So, I said no. And I felt peace.

Plus, remember this guy? I kinda like him. So far, he's everything I like about Heathcliff and Ireland rolled up into one. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. But maybe it won't. Who knows.

I guess I'm still pretty much in shock I said no, in spite of myself. Maybe I am getting better at this whole "I listen to God" thing, haha.

WWJD? Forgive and Forget, right?

I have some soul searching to do. This came in my facebook mailbox this morning.

Jesus would forgive, right? Jesus would forget. Jesus would accept him back. 

I miss him. I always have. 

Is this a test? Is the idea here just to work on forgiving people? Or is this another chance with a guy I really liked? 

What on Earth, 2012. What on Earth. 

I'm holding all the tickets. You're owning all the fines.

Today is a sad day. I know it because I woke up crying, I've been crying for an hour, and now I have Skinny Love on repeat. Indulge me a bit because writing is how I deal with things. If I don't write it somewhere, it never comes out and just stays bottled up inside eating away at my soul.

I was telling a friend yesterday that the common courtesy of "texting a girl the next morning" after you go out on a date freaks me out these days. I feel like I'm being smothered in attention. The most I can give to a guy is a few hours, and then, I'm done. I don't want to see or hear from him for a few days. Anymore attention than that, and I get scared.

I want a relationship, but I don't. I want company and a bond, but I don't want the heartache. The effort. The attention. I want to get married, but I don't want to get married at all. Basically, I've got commitment issues now. I blame it on Heathcliff. I don't blame him for much, actually, but I do blame him for that.

I was telling all this to a co-worker who was asking me about how my date went the other night. You know, the one with the other half-asian, half-white boy. I told her that he texted the next morning, the polite thing to do, and it was freaking me out because I don't want a commitment. She said I had to stop letting Heathcliff have so much control over my current life. Lord knows she's right. I mean, he's certainly not crying over me.

Last night, I revisited a dream I've had before only it was a continuation. Previously in a dream from over a year ago, Heathcliff and I had gotten married and moved into this amazing apartment. In last night's dream, I served him with divorce papers because he had already left me a long time ago and cut off all contact. I went through the entire place taking pictures of the things that belonged to me or my parents, and he agreed to sign the papers. Even in my dream, where apparently I still loved him as much as I used to, watching him sign those papers broke my heart. I was in shock. The one thing on Earth I thought was rock solid was crumbling, falling like grains of sand through the cracks in my fingers.

That was one of the things I told him when I first started dating him and contemplated the move to Catholicism.  "I just want one sure thing in this life. And I know I'm not going to find it on Earth." But among my sure things on Earth, as sure as Earthly things can get, I counted him at the top of that list.

But he let me down in such a major way.

I keep feeling like I won't have closure and be able to move on until I decide what it is I would have said to him after getting dumped because even to the last minute, I was trying to work it out with him. I still don't know what that would be, but I need to find the words, not necessarily for him to hear them, but for myself. Just so that I know.

In the meantime, I'm going to try to dispose of all the tickets and baggage I've got so no one else has to pay fines for crimes they didn't commit or carry luggage they didn't pack.

Diary of a Catholic Dating Girl.

I'm really beginning to think I should just change this to a Catholic dating blog. LOL.

I went on a date with a guy I met online tonight. Different from said guy in last post.

I had a really good time, laughed a lot, and he even asked if he could pray before we ate. (Not Catholic though).

Weird thing - He's half asian, half white. I know, right? What are the chances for two boys in a row like that? And he messaged me first. Go figure.

But I'm really happy right in this moment. Not butterflies, not warm fuzzies. It's more like I'm really satisfied.

I guess I can say I feel really peaceful, like everything is exactly how it should be.

Not even a week into the new year, and my world is already turned upside down and inside out, and I LOVE it.  Here is a bulleted list:

• I got a new job still at the community college. I am now an English lab teacher, and this position has more potential to turn into a full-time position as opposed to my old job of adjunct.
• I joined an online dating site. I thought it was for losers and desperates, but I've actually met some nice guys on there. 
• We had a party at my house and a guy tried to kiss me at midnight. To which I accidentally embarrassed him by screaming, "No, I'm not going to kiss you! I don't even know you that well!" 
• Said guy still called me the next day. Either he super likes me and is super confident or really pathetic. Cannot decide yet. 
• Said guy also apparently took me up on my offer to go to mass and see what it was all about as he went to mass with me today. 
• Which made me also realize how important the Eucharist is to a couple. I couldn't believe how vulnerable I felt watching this complete non-Catholic somewhat of a stranger person sitting next to me watching me take communion. 

2012, I think we're going to be friends.