Anyway, first let me say Congratulations to Jen at Conversion Diary for finishing her book! Between her and The Bloggess, there’s inspiration all over the place. Very exciting. So, with that said, it’s time for:

This is the first in a while hosted by Jen, and if you’re one of the rare few who wanders here from somewhere other than that list, then you should head over there stat and see what everyone else is up to.

And, for my 7 Quick Takes this year, here are seven things I’ve given up or taken up for past Lents – each a different kind or level of failure.

7.  Chocolate. One year I gave up Chocolate – or, tried. It was a failure. Not much more to say than that. Oh, and before you even think of making any pms jokes – I was eight.

6. A rosary a day. More than one Lent I’ve aspired to say a Rosary every day. Most of these years I’ve made it through the first two or three days and that’s it. What is it about the Rosary that’s such a struggle? And, perhaps more importantly, what does this tell me about my perseverance?

5. Television. Again, more than one year I have tried to give up television. Some years have been more successful than others. Can you guess what the major downfall has been every year? Maybe you don’t know me well enough yet - College Basketball – specifically, the Syracuse Orange. A week or so into Lent is when the season (usually) gets very intense, and finds me – lent sacrifice tossed to the wind – wearing an SU t-shirt, shouting at the television.

4. Meat. Yes, one year I tried to give up meat. It was ineffective. I’m a hungry girl. Another time (not related to Lent, but a good story) I decided I was a vegetarian. I was sixteen. I made it through four days of vegetarianism, when my father decided he’d had enough (and this, by the way, is an excellent example of how my parents handled us when we made decisions they didn’t like). He never told me he didn’t approve, or that it was stupid, or that he wanted me to stop. No, he just took me to the best barbecue place in all of NY State (The Dinosaur Barbecue of course!) and, quite possibly, in all the world. He took me for lunch, sat down across from me, and – totally deadpan – told me I could order whatever I wanted. Needless to say, that was my last day of purported vegetarianism.

That’s the kind of parent I want to be.

3. Diet Pepsi. This was HARD. Let me explain, at the time I gave it up, I only ever drank five things: water, milk, coffee, beer, and Diet Pepsi. And though I know how very unhealthy it is and was, I may very well have consumed more Diet Pepsi than water. I loved the taste of it – still do, and am craving it now. But this was the first Lent I got through successfully – no beer, no diet pepsi at all. I slipped up once – and it was at a six-year-old’s birthday party at the Worst Place on Earth (by which, I of course mean Peter Piper Pizza – that mini training ground for a lifetime in Gamblers Anonymous, which shamelessly serves matzoh topped with marinara and rubber and has the gall to call it pizza) surrounded by shrieking, lights, noise-making games, and bad, bad, bad food. So I took one look around, marched up to the counter, and got myself the biggest diet coke they had. It’s not quite the same, but I considered it cheating nonetheless.

2. Early mornings at the chapel. Brilliant idea in theory, very, very difficult in practice. The mornings I managed were glorious, even if the afternoons were angry, exhausted, cranky, and difficult. The mornings I didn’t were guilt-ridden (and the afternoons wer still cranky and difficult). I wonder what this would do for me, now that I’m not teaching any more. I think everything is better now that I’m not teaching . . .

1. Swearing. Somebody once told me that we learn a lot about our relationship with God from our failures. If this is the case than my struggle to quit swearing has taught me more about God than 12 years of Catholic School, 4 years of Jesuit College, countless visits to the confessional, innumerable Hail Mary’s, and more hours in front of the Blessed Sacrament then I can even begin to remember – all together. I joke that every New Year I resolve to stop swearing, every Lent I give it up, and ever New Year I resolve again. If it cost money, I’d be broke – oh, and on that note, I’ve tried rubber bands, I’ve tried curse jars – all the way up to a dollar a piece (you couldn’t imagine some of the phrases I come up with. Well, maybe Katie could, the rest of you no way) but it’s no use because I really do see it as worth paying, and who even has cash on them anymore anyway?

So there you have it, an abbreviated list of my lenten failings. Here’s hoping God will let that be it, and stop calling me to humility (like this #ashtag picture, in which I only see my thick, angry EYEBROWS and acne).

1 Kings 19:9-12
There he (Elijah) came to a cave, where he took shelter. But the word of the LORD came to him: Why are you here, Elijah?
He answered, “I have been most zealous for the LORD, the God of hosts, but the Israelites have forsaken your covenant. They have destroyed  your altars and murdered your prophets by the sword. I alone remain, and they seek to take my life.”
Then the LORD said: Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD; the LORD will pass by.
There was a strong and viiolent wind rending the mountains and crushign rocks before the LORD – but the LORD was not in the wind;
after the wind, an earthquake – but the LORD was not in the earthquake;
after the earthquake, fire – but the LORD was not in the fire;
after the fire, a light silent sound.
When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.

God is in the quiet, after the insanity. God is in the spaces between who I am, and who I’d like to be. He is in my failings, my mistakes, my ineptitude. He fills up my lacking and fortifies my strength.

But the fire, the wind, the earthquake – all of that was just empty yammering, unnecessary noise and flash – there wasn’t any substance to it.

That’s why for a long time the super-bouncy, huggy, arms-aloft at adoration crowd really put me off. I was raised in a deep Catholic faith, I was educated by sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, and my father would take me with him to his shift at Perpetual Adoration. I know a faith that is deep, and full, still and peaceful – like this story with Elijah.

Elijah wasn’t dumb. The man spoke to the Most High on the reg, and he wasn’t fooled by the flash and sparkle without substance. He knew the Real Thing.

But let me tell you, there’s a subculture of t-shirt wearing, shouting, tweeting, facebooking, scapular flaunting, rosary-wearing people who are armed and ready to make those of us with quieter, more personal and private faith feel like we don’t fit in.

They’d never say that of course. I think – though I am suspicious of them and their flash and sparkle – I think that on the whole they recognize that faith life is internal, and the external shows are no barometer for the depths plumbed by a person’s soul.  But that doesn’t mean it’s not  conveyed and they don’t have to say it for those of us who prefer quiet kneeling and private prayer to feel like they think we don’t love God enough.

And when  I was younger and more easily swayed by the opinions of others, it definitely caused me to question my place among them. At Steubenvilles, at the one Canisius retreat I attended, and on JVC retreats, I’d have a minor panic attack at the idea of having to hug people whose names I couldn’t remember. I came to hate retreats because of all the nonsense – the story-sharing, the emotion-discussing, the saccharine crap – and the disproportionate importance put on external demonstrations. That wasn’t me, that wasn’t how I experienced God – and I wasn’t willing to pretend to be something I’m not.

If prayer is anything it must be authentic. The God of the Universe knows every aspect of my being, there’s no fooling Him. So wouldn’t false participation in the flash and sparkle be worse than not believing at all?

There are exceptions. I have come to know my husband well enough now to know for sure that his actions are sincere. However, his individual example doesn’t bolster my faith in the whole.

I see it, and I just immediately flash to Matthew 6:1-8 and Luke 18:9-14 – Jesus’ stern admonishments to keep prayer personal and sincere. He warns against using prayer for anything else. I hear Him say, Don’t be like them!

But here’s the thing – my assumption that my prayer could ever be measured against the prayer of another is false. My opinion that my private, internal prayer is in some way superior to the live-out-loud prayer of others is just as incorrect as it would be for them to infer their own superiority. We cannot know the internal prayer life of another person. We cannot know the depth of their faith, or the obstacles and challenges they’ve overcome which have only strengthened and deepened their faith.

And, believe me, I’m not the kind of person who assigns blame to anyone other than human beings. 99% of the time, I’m sure we are plenty stupid, selfish, thoughtless, and short-sighted enough to cause all the evil the world needs without any help from any supernatural forces. However, trying to compare my faith with anyone else’s is a trap built by one much older, more cunning, and more ruthless than I. Don’t fall into it. It’s like a page right out of Screwtape Letters and suddenly you’re focused on how  you’re praying, instead of on praying.

And I guess that’s what it comes down to – the same as with Veiling or Not Veiling, the same as with Kneeling or Not Kneeling – what we’re doing with our bodies is not even a fraction as important as what we’re doing with our minds, hearts, and souls. My prayer might look different than yours, but neither is better than the other. And we can’t measure the inside by the outside. You know that trite saying about  books & covers.

So, because they said it better than I could, I’ll close with this tweet:

I met Kate 3 years ago. We were both teachers at the time. She taught High School English. I taught Music. We were both religious too. She is Catholic. I am Protestant. I should rephrase that: She is VERY Catholic and I am VERY Baptist. We talked about our faith quite a bit and found a lot of common ground. I was intrigued with Catholicism. The Catholicism of Kate that is, not what I had heard my entire life as a born and raised Baptist, so I decided to go to church with her several times.

Going to church with Kate increased my faith by leaps and bounds. I have never grown more under the direction of a “preacher” or “priest” as she terms it in my entire life. And while our theology doesn’t match up exactly I have learned so much from her and her belief system. Take Lent for instance: I found myself asking over and over, in a system that is based on Jesus and his teaching, why do Baptist’s never mention anything at all related to Judaism? We don’t celebrate Lent or Passover. We never talk about Hanukkah. Why? As Easter rolled around three years ago, Kate asked me about participating in Lent.

Oh right, Lent. Yeah, that’s what you Catholics do right after you commit all the sin you want. Be good for 40 days and all’s well in your religion. That’s what I was taught my entire life. I soon found out that’s not what Lent is about at all. I chose to participate that year and I failed miserably and I mean miserably. It’s not as easy as it looks. But what I learned was invaluable to me. As a Baptist it became very clear that we take Easter and the Cross for granted. That would probably get me in a load of trouble in the Baptist church, but it’s true. We celebrate and praise Jesus on Easter and run around chanting “He is risen. He is risen indeed.” We sing Easter songs about Christ’s death and His suffering, His resurrection and His pending return, yet we haven’t sacrificed a thing. I looked at my life and thought to myself, what have I done to show God I am at all appreciative of His sacrifice of His Son for me? I couldn’t come up with anything. Why do we not participate in Lent? It kept coming back to me over and over again. Why do we never at least TRY to give up something that is actually NOTHING in comparison to what Christ did for us on the cross?

I was baffled and still remain baffled to this day over it. I have talked to other friends in the Baptist church and they agree that it is shameful that we don’t talk about it or encourage it. Still nothing has changed…for the church that is. It has changed for me. Kate still has to remind me because I’m a Baptist to the core and so I don’t know when it starts. I’m thankful she reminds me. As I sit down and think about what I can give up or add I am reminded that I was given the greatest gift there ever was. I was given eternity. Christ paid the ultimate price for me. He suffered. He was tortured. His own Father couldn’t look at Him. Yet, He willingly did it for me and everyone around me, because He loves me. What greater gift is there in life? That is what I am reminded of over and over.

So this year, as I made my list and tried to put things on that would be challenging for me I reflected a little more about the Easter season and what it truly means to be a Christ follower. And this year instead of complaining or whining about how I miss sugar, or diet coke, or how I just don’t have the time for devotions four times a week I’m going to ask myself my own question: What are you sacrificing for the One who gave the ultimate sacrifice? It kinda puts things back into perspective.

Well, believe me, my inner Martha wouldn’t let me get away with not having very specific, concrete goals, so here they are:

1. At least once a week I’m going to go to the 6:30 AM Daily mass at Sts Peter & Paul.

2. Every morning & evening I’ll pray Morning & Night Prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours. Adam’s going to pray Night Prayer with me.

3. This has been a long time coming. Thanks to a suggestion from Julie of The Corner with a View, I’ve decided that every time somebody around me does something stupid, incompetent, inane, thoughtless, or downright infuriating, I’m going to pray a Hail Mary before I respond. And I know the Hail Mary in three languages besides English, so if I get to doing it too fast (which I have a tendency to do) I might force myself to say it in Latin, French, and German, too.  This is all a part of my continued efforts to let go of anger and hatred and have more patience and tolerance for my fellow human beings.

4. Giving up meat one day a week is no sacrifice at all. So, instead, Adam and I are going to have two meatless days, and one of them is going to be a Vegan day. This was inspired by the fasting traditions of our Byzantine Catholic Brothers & Sisters (with appreciation to Jen at Rabbit and Turtle for the nitty-gritty on Byzantine fasting) since Byzantine Catholics seem to be popping up everywhere in my life these days.

5. No eating out. Now, this one is very hard for us, and since reading Priest’s Wife’s  post on Fasting & Lent, it got me thinking. A lot of the time the way that Adam & I are able to share community with our friends here in Tucson is by eating out. In fact, that’s also how we share community with his parents & brother. So, since we are NOT fasting from friends, family, and community, we will go to restaurants for the occasions when we already have plans with our loved ones. So here are the rules: no eating out just Adam & I (which doesn’t mean that we get away with it by inviting friends at the last minute – no Lenten Loopholes here!) and absolutely no eating out on days when we’re fasting. Getting sushi because it’s not meat is the cheatingest of all fasting cheats, since I like sushi better than any meat in existence. It’s a treat, not a sacrifice.

6. And, last and perhaps hardest, no more sloth. I will get up – and by that I mean feet on the floor, ass out of bed! – every weekday before 5:30 AM and every weekend before 8:30 AM. If I belong to God, the day is God’s time, not mine – and I don’t get to waste God’s time. In this vein I’m nixing procrastination, zoning out in front of the television, pretty much even a moment spent on pinterest, and all of the general time-wasting I do in a day.  I don’t really have any concrete outlines or specific plans for this, except that I’m going to do my damnedest to notice when I’m doing it and stop if I can’t avoid it entirely in the first place.

This, of course, means less blogging, less facebooking, and less Twitter. I will miss you all, and I’m sure you’ll be grieving for lack of me, but we’ll get through it together, I know we will. (Of course, I won’t lie and pretend I’m not petrified that everyone in the #Cathsorority will forget who I am while I’m gone. This is an excellent exercise in humility for yours truly.

So – let me have it! I need all the advice, warnings, tips, tricks, and encouragement you’ve got! How would you do this? How can I do it better? What have you tried that has worked or not worked?

And, perhaps most challenging – how in the hell does one stop procrastinating??

Every year, for a long time I’d give up swearing for lent. And every year, fora a long time, I’d fail miserably.

Last year I gave up Diet Pepsi. Well, technically I gave up drinking anything but water, coffee, and milk. In terms of sticking’ to it, I’d say that my Lenten sacrifice was a “success” – I slipped up once as far as I can remember. All I got out of that lent was good hydration habits and (hopefully) stronger bones.

The year before that I resolved to make time for prayer every day. But rather than allowing myself to be deluded into believing that a few more “Lord Make Haste to Help Me”s were going to make any difference, that year I dragged my lazy butt out of bed 40 minutes earlier so that I could make time for 30 minutes in the chapel – and you know what? That was my most successful Lent by far. Believe me, I did NOT make it every day. In fact, I considered it a successful week if I made it there three times, but I know that at the end of that Lent, I was closer to God, and I had a better idea of how to live according to His Will (and I don’t think it’s any accident that I met my husband scant weeks after Easter, either).

That Lent taught me that God’s idea of Success is different than mine – very different. After all, if He had meant for us to be perfect, He wouldn’t have given us Reconciliation. I’ve come to realize that my model for Lent (and for life) ought to be Christ in the Stations of the Cross. The most perfect human being (who was also fully divine!) who ever lived fell three times on His way to die for me, and every time He got back up. As every coach in every sport ever has always said, “It’s not how many times you fall, it’s how many times you get back up.”

So, this year I’m pushing myself. A lot. This year I have a whole list of Lenten sacrifices and exercises – things I’m giving up and things I’m taking up – and all of it adds up to one thing: this Lent, all my small resolutions and sacrifices add up to one goal: to belong entirely to God.  I want to empty of myself – my needs, my wants, my selfish desires – and be more wholly a tabernacle for Christ.

So, I guess you could say that what I’m trying to give up is me.

Now, I know that sounds ridiculously pompous, self-absorbed, and self-righteous, but believe me, it comes from a very realistic place: It is entirely possible that I am the most selfish, vulgar, lazy, short-sighted, intolerant, and judgmental little wench on God’s green earth. But with all my nonsense, sins, failures, and grudges – God loves me exactly as I am, and He can use me to build a better world on earth - exactly as I am. So why wouldn’t I want to purge myself of my – er – self – and give control over to Him?

So, basically, my theme for lent can be summed up with this Vincentian Mission Prayer which I have kept taped to my bathroom mirror for the last three years, and which I pray every morning (and then promptly forget as soon as I’m in traffic):

Divine Savior,
transform me into yourself.
May my hands be your hands.
May my tongue be your tongue.
Grant that every faculty of my body may serve only to glorify you.
Above all, transform my soul and all its powers
that my memory, my will, and my affections
may be the memory, the will, and the affections of you.

I pray you to destroy in me all that is not of you.
Grant that I may live but in you and by you and for you,
that I may truly say with Saint Paul, “I live, now not I,
but Christ lives in me.”
Amen.

And now I want to hear from you. What are you giving up for Lent? What was your most successful Lent? What words of encouragement, advice, or warnings can you offer as I undertake this endeavor?

Good old Brother Tony. He taught me many things in the two years he was my mentor teacher back at St. Matt’s. And now I’m blessed with a Husband who also tells me things I don’t want to hear, things I need to hear, and things that push me to be better and holier. The following 7 Quick Takes are 7 things that I am still learning, 7 thing Brother Tony taught me, 7 things that I am working on, 7 things my husband is always saying to me:

1. Adam: “Honey, these are our friends, we have to be nice to them.” I’m not from Tucson. I’ve only lived here since May. And despite how brazen and ballsy I might be, I’m not really a people person. I’m the kind of person who’s perfectly happy with a friend base of four or five people.  And you know what? I have four or five people. In fact I have twelve people. I am enormously blessed in that I have three very good friends from my high school days, four wonderful friends from college, two beautiful, brilliant, hilarious sisters very close to me in age, two magnificent broads in Sierra Vista, and then – of course – my handsome, holy Husband. So, anybody I meet here in Tucson is frosting. This means that, in my mind, I can afford to be very selective, and I don’t need to waste my kindness and affection on people I don’t like.

But here’s the thing I forget: As Catholics we’re called to be living tabernacles. Our mission is to carry Christ into the world, to empty of ourselves and be filled with His love and compassion. No matter what I think, every individual has value and worth. Every individual is made in the image and likeness of God – no matter how ignorant they are, no matter how much they love Nascar, no matter their grammatical errors, driving blunders, or general incompetence every human being is an infinitely valuable Child of God.

So probably I should be nice to them.

2. Tony: If you’re angry and frustrated, it’s because you weren’t prepared. This is a teaching lesson, but it’s a life lesson, too. As then-cadet-now-Captain Lettko, my dear sister-from-another-mother, always reminds me, “Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance.” That means that you damn well better get your game face on. Every minute I spend preparing, praying, planning – every minute I spend getting ready makes me better, smarter, holier, stronger. When I have my ‘ducks in a row’ as Br. Tony would say in his wonderful Noo Yoak accent, when I’m organized (“oah-gah-na-eezed”), then I am calm, cool-headed, and competent. Life is much easier when I’m calm, cool-headed, and competent. So, no procrastiation.

3. Husband: Show them some Grace! In a lot of ways (and situations) this is a lot like the first one. But, in this case, it’s not. Just as every other person is made in the image & likeness of God, so am I. And I AM a tabernacle. The Spirit dwells in me, and Christ is alive in me – not as much as either of us would like, perhaps, but He’s here all the same. If I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, then I can be a source of Grace & Love.The only thing I have to do is get the hell out of the way. I guess the point of this is that I’m a better person when I stop backseat driving and let God drive.

4. Tony: No matter what else you do, if you show them that God loves them, then you’ve done your job. This, of course, was in reference to the kids, and I’m not teaching anymore – but here’s how I interpret it now: No matter what else I’ve done in a day, if I’ve been a reflection of God’s love to somebody, then I’ve had a successful day.

5. Husband: You can be as irritated and upset with them as you want, but if you spent half the energy praying for them as you do complaining about them I think you’d feel differently. And I don’t think that needs any more explanation than that.

6. Tony: Whenever you point a finger at someone, remember that there are three other fingers pointing back at you. This took me forever to understand. He taught me this in the first few months of my JV year, when I was living in community with a girl who was my polar opposite in every way, and I’m pretty sure I only really got it in the last year or so.  Essentially, it boils down to this: when something really bothers you about somebody else, when it just infuriates you, it’s because it calls you out on something you don’t like about yourself. If I’m bothered by cockiness, it’s because deep down I know that I’m a little too big for my own britches. If incompetent people send me through the roof, it’s because I measure my own value by my competence, and I worry that my mistakes detract from my own value.

Think about somebody who just infuriates you, and what, exactly, they do that makes you crazy. Now why does that bother you so much? If you’re anything like me, your mind was just blown.

7. Husband: Let’s go to confession? The truth is there are dozens of things he says to me which make me better & holier, but perhaps no one thing he says is as important as this one.  Of course, Reconciliation is very important, but on top of that my husband’s acceptance and love for me is unconditional. He loves my talent, my humor, my intelligence, and my good cooking AND he loves my bad temper, my complete inability to fold laundry, and even my sins. He loves me, accepts me, and wants me to become better. My husband is the living, breathing proof that God loves me exactly as I am.

We all have struggles in our faith. We pass through consolation and desolation – and some dark moments are much, much darker than others. But no matter how dark, how desolate my ‘dark night’ may be, there is my husband – a more perfect partner for me than I could even have imagined – the very tangible proof of a God I can’t always reach.

Sooo . . . there you go. A very serious Quick Takes for the beginning of a serious season. May God grant us all a restorative, reflective, and edifying Lent. May our hearts & minds be open for all the lessons He has for us.

The first time I saw this clip was one of the summers I spent in Long Island with my Aunt & Uncle. We had a Monty Python marathon, a few friends and I. I’d seen a lot of Monty Python before – Life of Brian and The Holy Grail – but until then I hadn’t seen any Flying Circus (the TV show) – so that was the first time I saw such beauties as “The Ministry of Funny Walks” and “Cheese Shop.”

But, when it came to the following video, my friends were baffled that I hadn’t seen it. They knew I was Catholic and they knew I had (then) five younger brothers and sisters, and they insisted I watch it.

And y’know what? It was funny then and it’s funny now, y’know why? Because whatever else they were, the men of Monty Python were artists. They didn’t needlessly attack things they didn’t understand. This video wasn’t a muddled pile of confused & angry nonsense (as one might suggest some other recent performances about the Catholic Church have been), it’s sincere piece that addresses one of our beliefs. It’s not entirely accurate (we’re not constantly cranking out babies, for example, we’re not Quiverfuls) but it’s also not vicious or muddled. It’s the kind of gentle mockery that family members inflict on each other.

Well, anyway, I thought it apropos, given the current socio-political ongoings. And, for any non-Catholics who might read this, here’s my disclaimer:

No, this is not what we believe – not anymore than Life of Brian is the story of Jesus. However, just because the Life of Brian isn’t true doesn’t mean there isn’t truth in it. It’s worth watching and it has value – even if it isn’t as strictly respectful as we might prefer.

Because here’s the thing: Art has a message. It doesn’t need flash or sparkle or spectacle, because a good message transcends and stands alone. And to be perfectly honest, that’s what offended me most about Niki Miwhatserface’s – ah – performance.  Not that it ridiculed the Church – no, the Church has withstood far worse and grown better for it. And, to be honest, if we can’t laugh at ourselves then what’s the point?

No, that ridiculous mess was offensive because it had no message. It had no purpose. It was just a wreck of flash and sparkle that couldn’t stand alone.

And, on that note, here is “Cheese Shop”

and you should head over there to read all the other awesome stories!

1. How long have you and your significant other been together?

2. How did you meet? {What’s your “love” story?}

In retrospect, I should’ve kissed him right then.

3. If married, how long have you been married? If not, is this the guy you hope to marry? {do tell}

We marked eight months this last Saturday (Feb 11th). Great googly moogly .

4. If you are married, where did you get married at? Big or small wedding?  

It was a small wedding, back home in Syracuse at the Church my family has attended for decades. We did all the decorating ourselves – or, more accurately, my mom did – had it catered by a local barbecue place, and got kegs of beer from a local microbrewery. Casual, low-scale, cheap, and so very much fun!

5. Do you have any nick-names that you call one another? Do share!

Well, we are one of those couples who calls each other “babe.” But, Adam is a badass – just look at him! – and was a bouncer for years. He is prayerful and loyal, protective and poweful, so I call him My Warrior.

He calls me honey, baby, and marsupial.

6. Name 3 things you love most about your honey.

I love how holy, prayerful, and thoughtful he is.
I love how hilarious he is, and how he makes me laugh.
I love his smile.

7. Tell us how he proposed? Or your ideal proposal?

Rear, L-R: Meghan, Colleen's then-bf, Colleen, Adam, & Patrick. Front: Kevin, Erin, Molly, me, & Robbie. Meghan, Colleen, Patrick, & Kevin all decided not to smile for this picture.

He had this glorious plan. He had to fly to Syracuse for Christmas to meet my parents, and he was going to propose to me at Midnight Mass at Rosary, with my whole family there. Well, on Christmas Adam (the day before Christmas Eve, duh!) There were plan-changes galore, and we weren’t even sure we’d be going to Midnight Mass. So late that night, I came downstairs in my pajamas (Adam slept on the couch, my parents have VERY strict rules about visiting boys, plus there were three of us in the room I slept in). I had zit cream on my face, my glasses on, and my hair up in a messy ponytail. I was carrying a basket of laundry to toss in the wash, and I asked Adam if he had anything he’d like clean for tomorrow.
“Yeah, but come here for a second, first?”
So I sat beside him on the couch, looking like a total scrub, and he got down on one knee, he gave a wonderful and romantic speech, that I can’t remember a word of because I was looking at his face, and I was so excited, and all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears.
He slipped the silver claddagh that I’d been wearing on my left ring finger – heart out on that finger traditionally means engaged – and slipped on a new claddagh, with a ruby (my birthstone) and diamonds in the hands and crowns.
“Katie, will you be my wife?” He asked.
And I think I said, “No duh!” through my tears and hugged him hard.

8. Is he a flowers and teddy bear kind of guy for v-day, or strawberries, champagne, and rose petals?

He is a spoil-you-rotten, no price is too high, roses and champagne, wine-and-dine kind of guy. But I’m a burgers and fries, jeans kind of girl – and he loves me exactly as I am, so we meet in the middle most times.

9. Are you a sunset dinner on the beach kind of girl, or pop a movie in and relax on the couch?

Definitely a pop in a movie and relax on the couch person. He says he goes to bed earlier since we’ve been married than he has since middle school.

10. Tell us one thing you’d like to do with your significant one day. If you could do anything? Go anywhere?

Someday I want to have a house full of kids. But mostly I just want to spend my life as his partner.

11. Tell us what you plan on doing on this Valentine’s Day.

Well, I have to head in to the ObGyn for a blood test (so romantic!) and on Tuesdays we have family dinner with his parents and his brother – and I didn’t want to deal with all the nonsense. So Adam and I will meet for a nice, romantic lunch before I head to the dr’s where they can test my blood.

12. Are you asking for anything this Valentine’s day?

Honestly? I want to watch something on the couch with him, in my pjs, and be in bed by ten. This is my life .

13. Give us one piece of advice of keeping a relationship strong and full of love.

Always apologize. Even if you’re not sure what you did wrong, or you’re damn sure you weren’t wrong. Apologies aren’t about being right or wrong, they’re about the fact that one of you hurt the other. And pray together every day.

14.  Show us a picture of what love means to you.

Can I cheat and use two?

But seriously, ladies, I can’t wait to see yours!! Make ‘em and post ‘em ’cause I’ll be posting a collection soon!!

Good Christ, that was the hardest thing to type (and frankly, if it weren’t for The Bloggess, I wouldn’t have had the balls to do it).

Alright, so anyway, I struggle with bi-polar. I was diagnosed in College, but I’ve struggled with it my whole life – and it’s a hell of a lot better now than it has been. I don’t know why or how, but it’s better when I eat right and exercise. If I keep my physical health in balance, then my mental health follows.

Well, this last week or so I have not been good about my physical health. I ate a lot of crap (especially refined carbs and sugars, which I know damn well cause me problems, and I ate them anyway), I didn’t work out as often as I know I need to to stay balanced – and when I did, I didn’t push myself anywhere near as hard as I could’ve.

Saturday was a rough day, and I don’t know if I can explain why, or how it felt. The inside of my skin wasn’t a very pleasant place to be. I didn’t do a damn thing to improve my state, and so when Sunday morning dawned it was only worse.

The lethargy of depression – at least, of mine – is thick and deep. From the outside it must look like laziness – and that’s what it looks like to me. There’s an angry part of me with high expectations, a short temper, and an absolute intolerance for mistakes. For those who know me – if you think I’m short tempered and intolerant of other people’s grammatical errors and traffic blunders, you should hear how I treat myself.

So there I was, trapped like a fly in molasses – and the simile is apt, because the sleep of depression is sickeningly sweet and damn near inescapable – berating myself like none other for not getting my shit together and acting like a grown up. I told you, the inside of my skin was not a pleasant place to be.

But we got dressed, and we went up to the Youth Mass – because the day I let this wretched disorder keep me from my responsibilities and obligations is the day I throw in the towel altogether. Or, maybe that will be the day that I decide the ickiness and side effects of medication are worth it, and I’ll try them again.  So, anyway, we got dressed and we went up to Mass.

Thank God for Adam. He’s my rock, my anchor when the storms inside my own head threaten to sweep me away. He sat beside me through mass and held my hand tight. I probably don’t have to tell you that I wasn’t even half as present as I should’ve been – as I wanted to be! The miracle of the Eucharist is the source and summit of our faith – and I am enrapt with its beauty – but faith is a gift, and, as Anne Sexton wrote, “Need is not quite belief.” There are places within me from which I can’t quite see God, from which I can’t reach His warmth and Love.

But God can always reach me. 

Just as I was about to receive communion I looked past the priest to the spectacular view of the Catalina Mountains through the windows. The sun was setting, casting rosey-orange hues on its tumbled face, and it was magnificently beautiful – like a painted backdrop. For an instant I was entirely still – even my internal turmoil rested in the Presence of the God Who Loves Me – and I was loved and valuable and worthwhile.

After mass, on the way up to the hall to serve dinner to the kids, I noticed the plants along the sidewalk were all in full bloom – with big, bright blossoms the size of my palm. Once again, that instant slowed to a stop, and I was still.

Lastly, we had Adoration after dinner. Our Life Teen kids love them some Adoration – so we feed them when we can. After a little bit, Adam took my hand and the two of us went up to the altar to make a special request. Adam prayed for the both of us, but I could only look up at the Eucharist. And suddenly I was at peace. It was as if He reached into my tormented soul and calmed it – just as He did the stormy seas when the disciples were so afraid.

Because so often I think I’m carrying this weight alone – so often I think that everything everything depends on me – and I forget that nothing I do amounts to a grain of sand. I forget that my lifetime is an instant in the stretch of Eternity, and that nothing I do is worth a damn without the Grace of God and the Salvation of Christ.

I am a beautiful creation, wonderfully made by an expert Craftsman, and even flaws and failures are wonderful in Him. He gives me purpose, direction, courage, and strength.

The battle’s not over. My inferior self-discipline and (true) laziness will bring me back to this place again, but I am never alone – and there is noplace (real or mental) I can go where God can’t reach me.

Sometimes it’s just nice to know that.