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.

Let Me Be a Dog, Then

Okay, so I found the word I was looking for in the last post.

God humiliated me.

And I don't mean in the modern sense of the word "to make ashamed or injure one's dignity." No, I mean that God knocked me off my high horse about what I thought I knew was best for me. God humbled me through humiliation.

It all kind of became clear after hearing the Gospel Sunday at mass, (which ironically enough, Father prepares quite well for Sunday homilies) and reading this.

I really, really did like this kid, Ireland. And after the quick split, all I could do was pray that it work out. To which it seemed God was completely ignoring me.   And then, the answer seemed to become "No! I said No. What part of NO don't you understand?"

And then finally, I had two instances of seeing the boy around town. And though I thought I would be okay and be able to act all grown up and over it; instead, I freaked out and panicked. God gave me what I asked for to show me that I really don't know what's best for me.

And all the while, the things I've prayed for have been terribly selfish while other people in the parish and via facebook have been asking me to pray for them. I should have been using my mass intentions for them and not my own selfish reasons. Then again, I do want to continue to pray for his return to Catholicism because I believe that is best for him. So I will probably persist in asking this for completely different reasons.

And it seems that after realizing that God is enough, and just being appreciative of Him,  I realize my prayers are going to get nowhere if I don't humble myself and give Him homage.

The Canaanite woman was called a dog by Our Lord.
Let me be then, a dog.
Loyal to my Master, and grateful for the One who provides for me, cares for me, and loves me.
And if I ask for anything else, and He gives it to me...

Hey, thats just a bonus then.  :)

More Than A Sparrow

I think I got scolded by God today. 

Scolded is probably a bad word. 

I don't know what to call it. 

Lately, I've had two verses from Matthew stuck in my head. 

Matthew 6:25 and Matthew 10:26 - both which deal with birds and sparrows and God providing for us so long as we are His children. 

I've been contemplating what to do with myself lately since once again, I was turned down for a teaching job. Moreover, I've been reconsidering my stance on my vocation, whether I'm really called to marriage or not. (More on this in a different entry).

I've had a particularly trying week with friends and awkward acquaintances and people who have beef with me for no good reason. Let's just say there's been serious drama every night. 

So I went to adoration today to be quiet, to clear my head, to get some direction, and to just tell Jesus I needed help. And all I've been praying for lately is for a particular boy to come back and for us to be friends again. I've been praying for a full time job, so I can afford insurance and a reliable car.  I prayed for direction on how to handle the crazy amount of drama in my life lately.

But as I was sitting there praying for all these things, I felt that still, small voice.  Often times, when I hear God, it's never a burning bush or loud booming thunder. It's always still and quiet, and if I'm not actively listening, I miss it. 

It said, "Am I not enough? Look at the sparrows. I care for each and every one of them. They do not worry for food or shelter. How much more do I love you than a sparrow."

And to each of my petitions, it seemed that was the answer. 

I'm lonely.

But I am God. Is that not enough? Is my love and company not enough?

I'm worried about paying for my apartment. 

But I am God. Is that not enough? If I care for a sparrow, I will surely care for you.

I'm worried about how I'm going to afford to eat because I'm not being paid for two months.

But I am God. Is that not enough? The sparrows don't reap or sow, but I feed them.

And on the walk back home, I felt my heart sink a little bit.  How ungrateful of a child I must have seemed. I've been given everything I could possibly ask for and more, and yet, here I am still tugging at my Father's pants leg asking for even more. 

He takes care of the sparrows. 

He takes care of me. 

He is God.

And that is enough. 

Desert Unicorn Prayers

Today, I went all dolled up to mass. In the pouring rain no less.  I went because I find myself doing better when I receive communion more often than not, but I must admit, I did have an ulterior motive.

Cute (devout) Catholic boys would probably be there.

And so off I go in makeup and hair and cute casual outfit, and I'll be darned if the priest was the only male there. That would be my luck.  Apparently, in Mississippi, a cute, not-lapsed, devout Catholic boy is like a unicorn: it's magical and beautiful and NON-EXISTENT. (And mass only lasted fifteen minutes. No lie. Fifteen minutes! Is that even allowed?!)

Then again, I've really been trying to quiet my mind and filter out all the noise in my life lately. I've been trying to find my desert. I can't say I've for sure found it yet, but I think I'm getting there. And while on my way,  it seems I've just picked up on a few things. I can't really explain them; they aren't feelings or thoughts, it's more just like it was knowledge just presented to me, and I just trust it.  They are as follows:

As much as I want to be married, I'm not ready.  How can I be ready to marry someone when I'm not even sure who I am? But everyday I'm single, I find out a bit more about myself. I grow a bit more as a Catholic girl.  If I allow God to help me make the best version of me, I'll be better for my husband if and when that time comes.

On a similar note, it seems that just knowing he's the one is a supernatural gift from God. Worrying about it is useless.  Worrying is a man's way of trying to affect a situation for the outcome he desires. Worrying is essentially a distrust in God. Faith, on the other hand, accepts this supernatural gift and follows through on it.  Now I really get why people used to frequently refer to marriage as a "leap of faith."  It is completely an act of faith to believe that God has picked out a certain person for you and then marry that person.

I've really, really struggled in my prayer life since becoming Catholic. I always feel like my prayers are useless, ill-worded, and just plain not good enough. I never know what to say, and there's only so many rote prayers you can say before you're just going through the motions. I'm glad to have encountered the message that prayer is learned quite a few places this week. I'm still working on it, but I'm trying.

Not only that, but Jesus knows our hearts, and He loves us. I know that sometimes, when you love someone dearly, you can just be in the same room with him and know exactly what he is feeling and thinking.  Imagine that brought to perfection! Maybe this is part of what contemplation is - being content of sitting in the same room with someone who loves you more than you know, more than you can imagine.  Someone who just wants to sit in silence with you, who doesn't even need you to speak to express your desires.  Someone who knows your desires before you even realized you wanted that desire for yourself. Jesus can do these things for us if only we would let him, if only we would learn how.

Less than 3,
V.

The Desert Is Calling Me.

I'll be the first person to admit that I'm naive, gullible, and dense. Just the other day, I was out with some friends, and I had a two minute long delay understanding the topic at hand.  So these qualities, especially being so dense, can kind of make it hard for me to see and hear God, especially if He whispers, which I think most of the time, He is inclined to do.

I think God has pity on poor dense me though; often times, I feel like I get hit over the head with a frying pan with a certain messages. This past Lent, everywhere I turned, I ran into the phrase, "happiness is a choice."

Now, I keep running into the idea of the desert. It first started here.  And then about two or three weeks ago it was mentioned in a homily.  And then father mentioned it last week in the Adult Catechism class. And I was browsing the Catholic book section of Books A Million last tuesday, and I opened it to a page about going to the desert of oneself to pray. This is one of those times that I keep seeing the idea come up so much, there has to be something to it. I think God is calling me to the desert - my desert so that I can hear Him, listen to Him, and do His will. So that I can better learn how to pray.

Prayer is always something I have struggled with, mainly because what I was taught of prayer growing up was pray what you feel, ask God for what you want. If you're in His good graces, He'll bless you.  Vending machine God, basically.  But somewhere along the line in college, I figured out on my own that shouldn't be how it goes.  But heck if I knew how to pray or where to find some guidance.

I'm good at sporadic prayer. I'm good at short little one liners during the day when I have a trying student, and I'm alright at remembering my nightly prayers. Sometimes I pass out saying them. I'm awful at morning prayers. I'm awful in the morning period. I'm lucky if I remember to say a Hail Mary on the drive to work I'm so grumpy and groggy. I try to sit and listen and do contemplative prayer, but I get restless. And for some reason, the Rosary relaxes me so much, I always pass out before finishing the third or fourth decade. I have an odd feeling if I make it to purgatory, (fingers crossed!), I'm going to have to finish all my unfinished rosaries.

I have no idea what God is going to tell me when I find my desert or how long I'll have to wait before He speaks. I'm a little scared actually. But also excited. And hopeful. I've really been trying to relinquish the need to control every aspect of my life, and as Father John said the other day, "allow God to surprise [me]." I feel like something big is coming, and I really think it is going to surprise me. But I also think it's going to entail a bit more of change and growing pains.

The desert is calling me, and I'm going, fingers crossed and holding my breath.

Less than 3,
V.

Prayers

Please pray for a special intention that I have. I would really appreciate it.