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.

V. for Veils and Vegetarianism

I feel like there is too much to say today.  I have lots going on and lots floating around in my head.

1. It's been a really, really, really tough week.  I mean, it was one of those weeks where the phrase "when it rains, it pours" aptly describes it.  First it was my car, and then I couldn't make it to work.  And then I upset my Mom over the car, which I'm not even sure how I did that. Then it was "we're not paying you until March 1," and I've used my savings to live off of for the past month, so for February, I have no money.  Which means asking my parents to borrow money. Which means no Valentine's Day supper to fix for Heathcliff.  I was going to go all out and make him filet mignon and buy a fondue pot for dessert, but there will be none of that this Valentine's Day.  Along with no V-Day present for him: a four way medal.  And then I found out I don't get a tax refund this year.  Somehow, I OWE the government money! :((((

Sometimes, though, I think we get dealt crappy weeks to be reminded that we need God. It seems like every time I slack up in the spiritual life department, I get slapped with crappy days, and it always has a way of driving me back to Jesus, calling on Him and the Saints to help me because Lord knows, I can't help myself. 

2. As per my last post, I realized I'm not really fasting anymore since I've pretty much transitioned to vegetarianism. However, I was reading about Saint Francis.  Saint Francis didn't eat meat because he wanted to respect all of God's creation. So, many vegetarian websites like to claim him as a "famous" vegetarian. What they don't realize is that he didn't actually subscribe to vegetarianism as a philosophy or as a form of protest like these people do.  The meat industry wasn't around when Saint Francis wasn't eating spare ribs.  Rather, it seems he took it as a permanent devotion to abstain from meat. 

My solution to the vegetarian fasting problem was to simply give up fish and soy protein since that seemed to be the most logical things for a vegetarian to give up. I tried to go without fish or soy today, and it was hard.  That basically eliminated most of what was in my fridge. I wasn't really tired, but I was hungry.  I gave in at supper and ate some sardines on a slice of cheese pizza. 

I'm well aware that we don't "have to" give something up for the Fridays year round, but I'd rather do it. Penance is good for the soul.  So, I feel like I have a couple of different options, one of which is to become an omnivore again.  But I do like the idea of vegetarianism as a devotion a la Saint Francis.  

I don't know.  More research, prayer, and contemplation is required before I take that option. 

Speaking of which, I'm going to visit my parents tomorrow, and they plan on buying BBQ for dinner. LOL.  I love my parents.  

3. I had a really profound moment tonight.  While reading up about veils as I so often do in an attempt to hype myself up to wear one, I came across this article: Veils

Most of those arguments I had come across before, but I had not heard the argument about the angels.  However, if you take a second to follow this man's logic, it is quite convincing.  But I cannot tell you the profound moment of "a-ha!" I had regarding this statement: Hence the idea seems to be that since the angels veil their faces (heads) it is fitting for women to do the same. But then the question, why not a man too? And here also Paul supplies an aswer that is “difficult” for modern ears: A man, on the other hand, should not cover his head, because he is the image and glory of God, but woman is the glory of man. For man did not come from woman, but woman from man. In other words a man shares God’s glory immediately whereas a woman does as well but derivatively for she was formed from Adam’s wounded side.

You would think it would be so obvious.  Of course woman was made from man! But when you understand yourself in terms of "made in the image of God," this changes things.  It truly shows that if you are a woman, by default, you are different from your male counterparts.  You're lower down on the totem pole, but no less valuable. One way you can glorify God is to glorify the image of him: man. 

I can honestly say I've always had a bit of a rebellious streak when it came to submission to a man, and I've had problems accepting this teaching. Course, you  must consider, I am a product of a two income house hold; my mom grew up during the 70's, and all my college mentors encouraged feminism.  In fact, I used to be a bit of a raging feminist in my early college years (probably as a reaction against a boyfriend who was abusive).  However, in my own meandering way, I did come to the conclusion that some submission to a man is necessary in a relationship.  In fact, I can remember telling Heathcliff something similar to this during one of our many conversations when we first met: "No man can control me unless I give him permission.  And I won't give him permission unless he is a stand-up kinda guy and treats me with respect. And even then he won't be controlling me.  It'll be more like I'm choosing to listen to him because he's a good guy, and a good guy is never going to do you wrong." He replied that he really liked that answer, and I told him that I had learned that lesson the hard way. 

So you can see why this teaching has been a particularly hard pill for me to swallow.  Perhaps this is one reason why I haven't donned the mantilla yet.  Maybe I'm just not spiritually ready. 

The other part of this man's argument also really strikes me: a woman's hair is her glory; thus, as not to detract attention from the Eucharist, she should cover it up.  

This concept is not new to me, as I grew up in the backwoods with several Pentecostal friends.  Those girls don't cut their hair, and if asked, you would get schooled on why.  In seventh grade, I probably knew more Pentecostal doctrine than Protestant because of this.  And they took care of their hair too.  As if it truly were their glory.

I love my hair, and I do think it to be one of my better features.  In fact, most of my life, my hair has been my most complimented feature. And I am quite adamant about taking care of it, though it tends not to want to cooperate.  But I have had super short hair before (not by choice - I got lice from a rented theatre costume and had to lose all of it to be cured and finish school), and I can honestly say I've never felt less feminine in my entire life.   In fact, a good bit of my life, my hair has looked like this: 

(BTW, excuse the pose; this was the least offensive picture I could find as most of them are from my early years of undergrad) But you can see how long my hair is. 

So the argument that "a woman's hair is her glory" completely makes sense now, considering how strongly I feel about my hair. And the idea of covering it up makes sense as well.  It all comes back around to modesty and humility.  I don't want to detract from the Eucharist or divert another lay person's attention from the Eucharist because I decided to pull my hair into a fancy side chignon.  Time to cover it up, lady.  

4. I'm thinking of a redesign of the site.  While writing this, I couldn't help but think of V. for Vendetta. 

Only mine would be:

V. for Veils

V. for Vegetarianism

V. for Veronica

Ahahaha. That's so corny and dramatic, but I'll probably do something similar because that's how I roll. 

And if you read all of this; God bless you.  You have to care a lot to get this far in my ramblings. 

Less than 3,

V.