In a Moment's Time

Last week was, arguably, the worst week I've ever experienced. As a school teacher, I have that unconditional love for my students, even when I am conscious of the desire to wring their necks. My case is worse, as I have teenagers; the hooligans with the rushing hormones. Last week, the moon must have been full because my children were out of control. The children's behavior climaxed at the end of the week and I sent a round of students home with punishments. Discouraged, stressed, and tired, I headed home.

And then it happened. I was pulling out from a stop sign (after having looked both ways) and was slammed by an on-coming car. I spun down the road and (after driving south) stopped heading East and he flew into a yard. My car is a mess and his was completely totalled. I have never experienced anything like that. It wasn't until the next day that I realized how hard I was hit. I could hardly move and I was still so shaken up. During some time with Jesus, I realized something.

I remember seeing him come out of nowhere. I remember thinking, "My God, he's going so fast." But, the next thing I remember is realizing I had been hit and my car was probably badly broken. Had circumstances been a little different, had he been coming from a different way and maybe going a little faster, the outcome may have been completely different. My last thought could have been, "My God, he's going so fast." I don't remember him actually hitting me. I don't remember my car spinning down the road. It was like I skipped a moment in time. But, what if there hadn't been another moment in time.

I always try, sometime during my busy and stressful days, to stop for a few moments and pray to Saint Joseph for a happy death. I frequently remind myself that, if my last moment comes, to make some divine ejaculation to the Holy Spirit. I thought I would remember. I did not. Had that been my final moments in this life, I would have failed to pray to the Father for my immortal soul. It really is true that we don't know when our last moments will be, even when we may be in our last moments.

I am still shaken. I hesitate to get behind the wheel tomorrow to drive to work. I haven't slept in two nights because everytime I close my eyes, the accident plays itself repeatedly in my head. But, I learned something. As with all life's events, big and small, I took away a lesson. I must live my life for that moment. Because, God forbid, if it come sooner than expected, I don't want my last thought to be what ruins me forever. I must prepare my spiritual resume in case the end is seconds long.

So much has changed over the last four months. I am appalled at what a path my life has taken. I never would have seen myself where I am four months ago. As always, God sends more Crosses, but one unexpected blessing has come into my corner as well. All of this sumersaulted through my head Friday night and Saturday. With all of these Divine love notes, I must slow down. I need to live my life for Him, doing His will. I know enough to realize that my Father doesn't want me worrying about daily stresses. He doesn't like me running myself ragged. He wants me to calm down, take it slow, and focus on what matters. In this way, I can prepare for that day when the final moments come. And I will be sure that my soul is prepared, whether or not my thoughts are quite as quick.

All people have one desire in this short life, we long for love. Every being is given a chance to receive this love. Each person born into this life has a fair, equal chance to recieve the greatest gift of all time. Every person is given a family through which we are supposed to receive love.

Sometimes, though, these love-giving units from God are destroyed. This destruction comes from two sources. When we least expect it, when times are most jovial, death strikes. This great ultimate steals the life of those we value most. Other times, the Evil One steals into homes and lodges hate between the family members. These victim souls sadly do not know true, constant, unconditional love. They open their hearts to those it is most natural to allow in, and these people tear and cut the inside. The consequences are deep and silent, until actions by the ignorant cause defensive reactions from those terrified, deeply tortured souls. They trust no one, yet they reach out to everyone hoping to gain the love they starve for so greatly.

Sometimes, these people are given second chances. The One Who is Love sends them people--special people--who have been sent to repair the ache. These little saviours suffer rebuffs and refusals, but they push anyway. They aching soul finally recieves love, often for the first time. These people, often thought of as Angels, are friends.

These friends cannot concieve the immense vocation they are fulfilling. When the aching soul attempts to thank the angels, they humbly refuse the gratitude. The magic, the power, the grace of this affirming, healing, gift of love causes the soul to feel special, wanted, even need for the first time. And the Angels have no idea what they've done.

But, unlike families, these friends often have a far shorter time together. God sends them on to other souls. The aching soul wonders why--why is one given the gift of love only to have it taken away. Then, the answer comes.

These hungry, empty souls--so many in this life--are yearning to be filled. Those few who are given the blessing of friends are given a small, lesser taste of the Love one Man offers us. The angels gently take the hands of those hurting souls and walk them toward the Eternal Light. They give us a sample of true love during this short journey, leaving us thirsty for more but also newly cognizant of the source.
"Don't forget that we never really say good-bye,
we'll always be together in His Sacred Heart."
Those aching souls, now full, have a strange yearning to seek other empty, aching souls and, taking thier hands, give them the love that now fills every part of their being. They know the pain of loneliness and now they know love and the strong desire to fill the empty shells.

These we call friends do not leave us. They simply leave one another's company to continue thier selfless giving. Those now filled begin thier new quest to fill the desire of emptying one's self through love. All the friends find those who are alone and hurting. They fill and repair these souls. Through following this path, and after death comes to all those angelic souls, they truly do find themselves together in His Heart. Together, they rest in the Source of all true, good love. These friends, then, do us no disfavor in leaving; they simply continue walking towards His heart amassing souls. The choice lies with those now given it: Shall I follow? Thus, through our earthly friends, we truly meet our Eternal Friend.

A Random Realization

I really do not know why I thought the late nights and studying would end when I recieved my college diploma. Mistakenly, I assumed the cramming, intense reading and note taking, and class organization would end when my undergrad days did. I would pick those habits back up when I went back to school for my Master's. Not so much.

Every night this week has found me up as late as midnight, typing ideas on the computer or reading out of the school books. I've been trying to figure out what to teach and what to leave out, how to organize the classes, and how to make things run as smoothly as possible. I want to do right and teach those kids as best I can. I want them to know the Truth and know how to use it. I want to teach the kids properly, showing them that learning can be fun. I want to teach them how the Faith is in every aspect of our society.

The other night, a thought occurred to me. I think I discovered the real grain behind teaching. A good teacher wants to teach much; a great teacher wants to learn much. I am very excited to see what I learn this coming year. We think we know everything, but we all know so little. Most often, it is those who are younger than us who know more than we.

So, I shall keep my journey here, for those who care to follow along. And you, my humble reader, may share your thoughts with me.

Dancing Ladybugs

Recently, my three sisters and I were overjoyed when we found we'd be alone an entire weekend. My parents were leaving for a weekend to get some much needed relaxation. They left last Friday evening and we spent the weekend bonding, burning, and watching.

Saturday, after spending several hours getting sunburned at the pool, we came home pained and tired. Dinner, we decided would consist of the pizza Mom had left and enjoying home videos. As we travelled through the last five years of the Smith Family journey, I realized how much had changed in our lives. As we started out, we were still together as one family. But, that was short lived. We watched Justin prepare for and marry all over again, looked on as Drew left home to discover his own path, I left for College and graduated. Emily departed for College, as well, and began dating. Laura and Kathleen watched as their family separated.

The same weekend, my twin brother called with some saddening news. After suffering a great deal over the last few years, this was the straw that broke the camel's back. He lost it. And we cried with him. Kathleen, the youngest, let tears fall freely from her eyes. "I just want to hug him, but he's so far away. I hate being the youngest. I hate having to watch everyone leave!" How terribly sad.

When Justin got married, we children were thrilled. This meant nieces, nephews, and a wonderful wife. But, in a way, we were a little sad, too. The King of Narnia had relinquished his rule. The tight-knit, imaginative Smith clan had realized its first step towards dissolution. The eventual disbanding is inevitable and is something we children feared through out our entire childhood. Losing one another.

I used to think how lucky we were. We children went without so much, materially speaking. No televisions existed in our room, we could not fathom having our own telephone. But, we had each other. Especially we four older children. We spun creative games that would have marvelled even Aesop. Flying animals that saved the world from destruction. A magical kingdom that existed solely on imagination and Faith. Christmas in July and dancing ladybugs in December. Yes, we kids were blessed. And then came the end.

But, we were the end. While we older children bravely took the first step out of the nest, Kathleen and Laura were forced to watch, and stay behind. Yes, they had to suffer through four good-byes and the house became progressively quieter. The flying animals went their separate ways to save the world in different places. The ladybugs flew to different valleys. The King found a Queen. Now, Kathleen and Laura live for the days when the four older children are at home. When the house is full of screams and giggles again. They feed off of the still existent imagination of their older siblings when they are home. Which is not often enough.

As I think back to times long gone, I remember a young blond boy who wove threads of lore into fanciful games and five younger children who clapped and jumped, hanging on for the next idea. I recall a red-headed boy who quietly stood by his brother's side and made intricate toys from Lego's and string. I remember a small, blond girl who lived for each day and revelled in the magic of games. There was a brunette who stood right along side her older sister, waiting to go dance across their bedroom and pull out the Barbie tub. Then, two more girls followed, who were dubbed princesses and carried around on pillows. Time seemed to stretch on and the children lived for each Holiday, most especially Christmas. Magic seemed to perpetually exist visually in the air and one only had to reach out and grasp it.

Now, I see different times. The blond boy lives in South Dakota and has a wife and baby. He makes his family proud with his vast education and incredible job. The red-headed boy became sad and moved far away, still trying to find his way back. The small, blond girl feels acutely the pain of each member of her family as they struggle with their Crosses. She is graduated from College and is all grown up. The brunette holds a lot inside and has become quiet lately. She is in College now and has someone special. The two youngest girls watch quietly and patiently as their siblings go off to fight the good fight, to follow God's will. And sometimes they cry.

Taking the first step out of the nest was scary and daunting. To gather all one's courage and leap meant complete trust. However, I would not trade it for the other option. To be forced to watch a family slowly separate and expand has to be extremely painful. The entirety of my sisters' lives and memory has been saying good-bye. My sister Emily brought up a very good point: "When Kathleen became old enough to finally appreciate what was occurring around her, Justin left." We all soon followed suit. Thankfully, we have our Faith. As Justin has pointed out many times, we all must strive for Heaven. How often I have thought of this. In Heaven we shall never have to say good-bye ever again. Heaven will be the combination of dancing ladybugs in December and Christmas in July, of flying animals and tangible magic. Best of all, we shall all be together for eternity, with the real King, the One Who never relinquishes His rule.

JP II: I miss you!

Last weekend found my mother, sister Emily, and me at the video store picking out the week's rentals. Chic flicks, action videos, and dramas sat beckoning us to choose them. However, one movie had caught my eye the last time I had been at the movie store. It was no romantic comedy or action thriller. Rather, it was a film about a simple saint known the world over.

As I sat watching the film John Paul II, I found myself becoming acutely aware of how much I missed the man behind that name. He was the first Pope I had known, and I knew him for a lengthy time. A simple man with a unique message, he suddenly met world fame like no other pope in history had. And yet, this did not attack his pride. Rather, he used this to spread God's message even further.

It was from his mouth I first understood the importance of Catholic young people. JP II called out to the young particularly because we have a special mission as new adults in a materialistic and immoral world. Rather than sheltering ourselves from this massive frenzy, we young Catholics should run to seek them. We should pray with them, as John Paul II did with the man who shot him.

It was JP II who started World Youth Day, a time when as many Catholic young people as possible can come together to pray, worship, and learn together. He would speak the most profound words at these functions, illustrating how God's message is not stopped by the barriers of continents and languages. No, God's message overcomes all obstacles.

I still meditate on various precepts of the Faith that JP II clarified during his time as Pontiff. His literature on Theology of the Body has made a profound impact and his numerous encyclicals have affected politics to a degree which many still cannot comprehend. Books, poetry, and other works by the man still circulate and touch readers everywhere. The man was amazing.

So, tonight, as I drift off to sleep, I shall pray that John Paul's message is still propagated world wide. I beseech that all Catholic young people realized the awesome responsibility they have as members of a degenerate society; that we must reach out and bring back the lost sheep. I pray that all who have been touched by John Paull II can give the messages and lessons to those who were not so fortunate to have known him. But, most of all I pray to always strive to put into action the lesson of Love that John Paul II taught through out his life. He truly was the personification of, "Preach the Gospel always, use word when necessary." JP II, we miss you.

Something is Missing

I have done a great deal in my life recently. I have finished two books in three weeks, moved half way across the continent, and graduated from college. When I look back on who I was a year ago and how much I have changed, I am rather surprised. My life a year ago was far different in many personal ways than now.

A little over a year ago, I was surrounded by my friends, many of whom lived on my dormitory hall. We spent a great deal of time together, praying, partying, studying all in one or two rooms. We played Ultimate Frisbee every Friday night, sat in Mass in the same pew on Sunday, and attended many of the same classes. My brothers were married to healthy happy wives and one of the new families was expecting a child. My family and home were in a wonderful condition, everyone was healthy and the home was in one piece.

Fast forward one year. I am now graduated and haven't seen my friends in a month, some for longer. I am having to make some huge and scary decisions about the future, like where I want to work and live. One of my sister-in-laws in sick and her health continues to rapidly deteriorate, while my brother can only stand there and watch. My family's home suffered flood damage and we don't have the money with which to fix it. I have other Crosses, which I shall not mention here.

I remember, a year and a half ago, life was full of luster, everything was new exciting. Things were rolling along. I jumped out of bed every morning and went to bed content every night. Every moment was exhilarating and every breath I took was exciting. I was happy.

I realized today I have not felt that way in for some time. Now, life is a struggle, everything is dull. Things are a struggle. I stumble out of bed every morning nad go to bed afraid every night. Some moments are a Cross and some breaths are more of a sigh. I am tired.

At Church this evening, I was reflecting why I felt this way. What was it that was making me feel this way about life recently. There is no excitement and I am afraid. Why? Then it hit me. To borrow a line from a movie, "Something is missing." Something is missing from my life that makes me feel this way. What is it?

I am not sure. I do know that most of this is probably because my life has been changing faster than I can blink, and the future is incredibly unstable and unknown. I place my hand in the grip of God and let Him lead me to where He wants to go. He will lead me through the dark and give me the missing pieces in His good time. Until then, I shall take it one day at a time until the days are exciting again and each moment is full of anticipation. And then, I shall again live in each moment.

The End Times are Near

As I woke up to my screeching alarm clock the last few days, I have had the distinct feeling as my consciousness faded on that I had to do something big imminently. A few seconds would find me wondering what this big thing was. And then, as the immense realization hit me, I would sit upright in bed and force myself to calm down. The end is near. I have four and a half days left as a College Student.

I find myself asking constantly how I feel about this. There seems to be a general consensus in my Graduating Class of excitement and anticipation; I have a confession: I do not share the same feelings. Please understand me. I will not miss room checks nor will I find myself yearning to relive any Finals Weeks and chasing after that seemingly unattainable A. I will not desire the few times when horrible tests and papers were returned to me. But, there is a great deal of things I find myself already missing.

I will miss reaching out and spanning all of the classes, making friends and trying to know every name. I will miss the Coffee Nights in my room until three in the morning, laughing, worrying, and crying over stupid things that did not seem so stupid. I will miss opening my door, walking across the hall to my friends' rooms or running over to another dorm to "study" with my girlfriends. I will miss the Classes, the pride of my Class, and the growing up I've undergone here. Most of all, though, I will miss the little building that sits at the center of the campus. How many tearful moments I've had in there, either beseeching him for an answer or grateful for his assistance. The Mass, when I have sat enraptured, time after time, as I felt Christ inside my very being.

I look very much foward to what I am called to do following this Saturday. I am terrified, anxious, and scared. But I am also excited, and only because I know God wants me to move on from this wonderful and bewitching place. Without the calling of God, I could never leave this place on my own accord. It has become my home.

I will miss my class. Never again will we be in the same place again. Life will prevent this through vocations and distance. So, in these last few days, I beseech God to make them go extremely slowly. I hope that the Senior Class of 2007 realizes the small and precious time we have left together as one entity. And when the time comes for us to move on and join the world, I hope we all leave one heck of a mark on souls, bringing them back to Christ in droves. But, most of all, I hope none of us forget what we learned here at Christendom College and that we do not forget each other.

Standing on the Edge

Recently, I have the distinct sensation that I am standing on a precipice of a giant cliff. My feet are balanced precariously on the edge and below is complete darkness. I have been slowly and carefully walking up to this cliff edge for the last four years. Initially, I would look at the others standing on the distant edge, contemplating how terrified they must feel. There is nothing underneath them that they can see; their destiny is completely unknown. And then, they would jump. Where they landed, I hardly knew. Now, as a Senior, I stand on this very edge. In the next three months, I have to prepare myself and then jump.

Even as I stand now on this edge, I am constantly overcome by two emotions. Either I am completely ready or extremely sad. Fear is not an option at the moment. I have far greater things in life to fear. And the view down from the cliff-edge is more clear than that while standing two, three, or four years off. I can now see this Man waiting at the bottom. He is strong and capable and He is very kind. He is calling to me. Right now, He yells gently, "Get ready! Get set! You don't have much longer, but you still are there for a reason!"

I will admit that there are days when I feel so ready leave. I do not hate Christendom. Quite the contrary. But, God is calling me out into the world immenently and in order to leave a place as incredible as this, God must provide immense graces to quell the fear and sadness. Those days when, detesting the idea of cleaning my room for room checks as a twenty-three year old woman, I offer this up for the Holy Souls and visions of apartments dance through my head.

On the contrary, there are those days when suddenly the reality of it all hits me in the face, usually lasting only thirty seconds. Saturday night, I pulled various pictures out of my photo albums for the Senior slideshow shown for the Senior Dinner in May. I made four stacks: Freshman year, Sophomore year, Junior Year, Senior year. Suddenly, the near-end was sitting tangibly in front of me. Four years, four stacks of pictures. As the radio lilted out melancholic songs behind me, I flipped through all the pictures from the four years. Mary Akers, now happily married, dressed tackily to meet her ex-boyfriend's parents. Iona's birthday party from Freshman year. Top Floor Campion crowded into Bethany Zuniga's room for the surprise party she never showed up to. Julian and Adam swing dancing together for Coffee House. Various dances, parties, girl-times, and memories.

College, the wise adults (we ourselves are quickly becoming) say, is supposed to be "the time of your life." I have no regrets, only that the time is almost over. I vowed long ago to carefully balance my social and academic life, having heard two regrets from former college students of all ages: "I wish I'd spent more time studying," or, "I wish I'd hung out with my friends more." Having gained an enviable and wonderful education and made life-long, holy, and loving friendships, I get ready to jump knowing that I have those two very things to back me up and that nice, loving Man below me to catch me.

As I continue through my last semester, waiting for reality to permanently hit me, I continue to make friends and learn new things. God has a reason for me being here until the day I graduate. And when I do, I hope I leave behind something that other students behind me can learn from. I hope that when they, too, step onto the edge they may look with confidence on my Senior Class and garner hope from us. And when I leap in May, I will continue to look on this place as my first home and pray to meet all my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ in our true Home.

Thankful for my Health

I have a friend who, while attending college here at Christendom, spend the entirety of her Freshman year bed-ridden with a serious and dangerous illness. Occasionally rising for classes, she confided in me once that it was God who had helped her with classes and life that year. She couldn't crack a book. Of course, my reaction was sympathy. I could not empathize because I had neer been bed-ridden at all in my life.

Christendom is like a Petri dish. All illnesses get caught inside our Holy bubble and fester. Of course, being an overachiever and overextender, I always seem to catch everything going around and always at the worst possible times. Last Thursday night, in the middle of my night class, I suddenly realized I could not see the professor. I couldn't see anything. After seven years of freedom, I was getting a migraine. I picked up what belongings I could and left the classroom. Friday morning came, and I was feeling no better. This was not surprising. I usually feel better about 24 hours after succumbing to these little samples of Inferno. Friday night came, and I was still strangely tired; Saturday and Sunday all found me the same. Frustrated, I was curious as to why this migraine was hanging on so long. Then came Sunday night. I was burning inside and out. My wastebasket suddenly became attached to my hip and I began running fever. Darned migraine, I thought. I began to feel worse. I climbed into bed, but was feeling so awful I didn't fall asleep until 2:30 in the morning. Long story short, I spent seven days in bed. Through it all, I finally realized the migraine was the beginning of a wicked strain of the Flu.

Okay, I now have an incredibly small idea of how my friend felt. As a social, happy person, I hate being stuck in bed. However, I can usually handle the imprisonment for two or three days...not seven. My friends were very patient and my sister took wonderful care of me. I can't remember having been that sick in a long time. I ran fever for at least three days and on Tuesday was convincend the end was at hand. I know. But, I was tired.

As I lay in bed, two things kept running through my head. First, I badly wanted to go to Mass and be with Jesus. I hadn't seen Him in several days. Beyond this, people take thier health for granted. As I lay there in bed, worrying about all the commitments I was breaking, I realized how far we push ourselves. Committing to innumerable activities, not going to bed until we absolutely must, filling our mind with silly worries, the list goes on. Then, God sends the Flu. He tries preliminaries, but for all of our worrying and running we don't hear Him say, "Calm the heck down, my young Paduan. All things in My time." And so He lays the smackdown. I listened this time while lying in bed.

People need to slow down, enjoy life, not worry so much. Stop, watch the waving daffodils on the hill, smell the scent of coffee lingering in the kitchen, sleep. God wants us to take care of our bodies, His gifts to us. So, I am trying to take better care of myself and change some of my habits. I realized there's a truth behind one's health: you don't know what you've got until you've lost it.

Urgent Prayer Request

I am asking for prayers for my sister-in-law, Kristin. On Tuesday, December 12 she collapsed because her kidney failed (she only has one). She was flown to the Mayo Clinic and is intensive care. She has had three transplants. She is not doing well and time is very much of the essence. She has no definite matches for a kidney and the only possible ones are from her mother and her sister. However, the doctors will not be certain for another two weeks. Time is very short.

Furthermore, Kristin needs a perfect match this time, something that her mother and sister are likely not. The doctor informed her today that she has to find as close to a perfect match as possible because she will not be able to be operated on anymore. If her kidney fails again, the doctors can't do anything and she will likely die.

I am asking desperately for prayers. She is married to my twin brother, Drew. Furthermore, my brother cannot be up there with her due to unforseen circumstances. He is frantic and she is not doing well.

Also, if any of you are interested in possibly donating (for which we would be eternally grateful), you can shoot me an e-mail at prayforkristin@hotmail.com. I will get back to you as soon as possible. Also, shoot me an e-mail if you want updates. Please pass the word on to anyone willing to pray. Thank you all and God bless.

My Big, Fat, Italian Thanksgiving

As I recall last year's Thanksgiving, I am overcome with a bittersweet emotion. While the holiday was happy, since my father had finally gotten a job outside of Kansas and we would soon have a house, beds, and clothes again, Thanksgiving also came with its losses. The family was split up all over the United States, we were moving over the holiday, and we had lost a very dear pet. Times were still tough, but we made the most of it. My sister and I joined my parents and two younger sisters for the Holiday weekend, but both of my brothers could not make it out.

Justin and Molly were experiencing hardship on thier end, as well. Having just lost a baby and Molly's job, the two were tight on money and spent the weekend with Molly's family in South Dakota. We would not see them until Christmas. Too, Drew and Kristin spent the holiday with her family. The brothers were noticeably absent during our moving weekend. But, we made do.

This year, however, will be completely different. For months, have been anticipating the flight home on Saturday. My sister Emily and I will be skipping three days of school to go home early. This year, instead of a small gathering on plastic tables with disposable dinnerware in a barren and borrowed home, Thanksgiving will find my family, all eleven of us, surrounding the dining room table, adorned with real turkey and china. Instead of only the eight of us (Mom, Dad, and the six children), the table will have additions. This year, our brothers bring home wives...and Justin and Molly bring home Lucy.

I could never have imagined how wonderful this year could have been. As I think back to last year and the drastic changes that have occurred in my family, I am amazed at God's loving mercy and blessings He has unquestioningly showered upon my family. Not only do we have a home and the basics, I will be holding a new niece. I will watch my brother and his wife finally marry in the Church. I will sit around the Thanksgiving table next week, amazed at the beauty God has put in my life. I have so much to be thankful for this year.

I wish everyone the happiest of Thanksgivings! And remember, no matter how dreary life seems, one can always find something to be thankful for. And life changes an awful lot in a year! May you all have a blessed and Happy Thanksgiving!

I have been anticipating this day for several weeks, now. Planning and praying, waiting and thinking, I practiced patience to a great degree. When I mentioned to my room-mate my excitement concerning the fifth of October, she expressed confusion. She was silent for a moment and then spoke, "Why October fifth?" I do not expect a lot of people to remember, but the crime would be abominable if I did not.
A year ago today, I was waiting anxiously for a phone call from my father. I had been waiting all week. My sister and I had been praying a great deal that week for God's will and for patience.
My family was living in Kansas and for a year, our lives there were tortuous. From losing a large amount of money, to being homeless and having my father's job in peril, I had begun in May of 2005 to pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy and read Saint Faustina's diary. Every night, I faithfully hit my knees and prayed with great faith. "Anything you ask in Faith will be granted." I clung to that and fervously prayed. Fast foward five months. Dad had been on two interviews within one week of each other and both looked quite promising. The week of October the fifth, 2005 was when we were expecting an answer. I continued to pray.
On October the fifth, I had no idea who's feast day it was. At workstudy that morning, I looked up the information online and found it was Saint Faustina's. For a mere moment, I enterained the idea of how awesome the situation would be if my father got hired that day. I immediately pushed it out of my mind, not wanting to get my hopes up. However, at four o'clock that afternoon, my father called me.
He had recieved a call at three alerting him he had gotten the job in Texas. The screams that emanated from my sister and me on our tiny Catholic campus in Virginia would have raised hairs on anyone's neck. Jumping up and down, we cried tears of absolute joy and relief. A year later, my family is no longer homeless. We have a home and beds and food. We have friends and support. My father has an incredible job and my family is happy.
"Anything you ask in Faith will be granted." Indeed, this is true. Saint Faustina, who spoke to Jesus as a child, helped my family recieve the miracle we so desperately needed. As I look back and see how much more we have this year, I am so grateful to that humble and powerful Saint. Not only do we have a home and happiness, but I have a new niece (another petition I made to Saint Faustina). If we make of ourselves little children and ask with great faith, we shall receive a hundred fold what we ask. God is good and so is Saint Faustina. Today, remember her and thank her. If not for yourselves, then thank her for me. I shall never be able to thank her or God enough.

Love Notes

There are those moments when, I believe, that if you closed your eyes and thought hard enough, you could live in them forever.

Last night was a friend of mine's birthday. Being of age and sick of our theses, we all decided to go out and get drinks. We had planned to head over to the Gryffin Tavern, but due to a snag in the plans, we ended up at the Royal Oak. See, this didn't matter to me. I have so many (good) memories from that place. We sat around for a little while, but had to leave much earlier than we had planned because they were closing. But, it wasn't this moment I wanted to make eternal.

When we left the Tavern, we had no idea what we were going to do. We knew we didn't want to go back to campus: our schoolwork ws there. But, Front Royal being the strange town that it is, everything was closed. Then, one of the girls suggested it: "Let's go to the Park!" Of course, you can imagine the rest of the girls followed this suggestion up by many affirming screams. Ten minutes later, we were walking into one of the parks in Front Royal.

I actually don't know exactly where we were last night, and it doesn't matter. All that mattered was that the nine of us had the time of our lives. I must confess, it's been a good two years since I've been on a swing. As soon as we arrived, I jumped on and one of the guys began pushing me. I was flying high. Soon, all the guys joined in suit. As we soared higher on the swings, the more it seemed our ages were falling. Suddenly, there weren't eight thesis-writing college seniors, but eight twelve year old children screaming and yelping as the swings went higher.

And then it happened. One of those rare moments were it feels like the world suddenly stops moving and there's nothing wrong in the whole world. With as many Crosses with which I've been struggling over the last few weeks along with my thesis, I've been very bogged down. At that moment last night, however, they all disappeared. As I soared higher on the swing, I could feel my heart getting bigger and seeming to free fly in my chest. My head cleared and my sould began to glow. I was so happy. With people I cared about laughing and giggling around me, I knew I wanted to live in that moment forever.

My Philosophy: It's all about the swings and playgrounds, about the company of friends and family, ice cream and sprinkles, roasting pumpkin seeds on a chilly Fall day and picking flowers in the Spring, it's all about the Little Things. Because these are God's little love notes to us, litte reminders of how much He loves us. And He wants us to milk every moment. I do.

The older I get, the more I have to worry about. Someday, God willing, it will be a husband and children to worry about. Things in life way us down, especially as we climb the proverbial hill. In the next year, I have to worry about a thesis, graduating, finding a job, a place to live. And more worries will come with those territories. With these, come wisdom, a blessing that is necessary to life. But, as I grow older, I hope to never lose the love of the little things. They are so important and so very dear. Because it really is the little things we value most.

I wish the same for everyone else. I wish that people never let pride or reputation stop them from doing fun things, like running towards a swing or having some ice cream with chocolate sauce. That people never feel inhibited to let the child out of themselves. I hope, instead, that people take the most out of these little blessings. I think there's a little bit of Heaven in all of God's love notes. They are treats to lead us Home.

God's funny. I say that in the most loving way, but honestly His ways are so funny. By funny, I mean comical, in a hidden sort of way. I guess this is because He is so obvious about what He wants for us, but we are stupid enough to make it more complicated than His will really is.

I returned to my old stomping grounds last Thursday on the 18th of August. To be perfectly honest, I was petrified about returning to school. Many pressures were awaiting my return and I was quite intimidated. From the commencement of my senior thesis to many missing friends, I knew returning was going to be difficult and strange. Had I known the first week was to be as difficult as it was, I would have running the other way screaming.

When I got back, I didn't find the first week hard or good. I wouldn't at all use these words to describe the feeling. The only adequate word is weird. I found it quite strange to be a senior, with all that this implies, and found it stranger still not to have most of my (now) alumni friends returning with me. The first week was filled with much prayer and anxiety, but I clung strongly to Christ's hand. He guided me through what turned out to be more than what I imagined was in store. Without Him, I would not have made it.

And then He sent me another reminder. "Stop focusing on yourself, Adrienne. You're not here for you. I put you here for everyone else. You know this, I've told you many times before. Do as I ask and everything will fall into place." So I did as asked and everything fell into place. And I am happy.

How often we get sucked into our own problems and issues that seem so giant. And yet, God willing, when we are in our Eternal Home someday, we will look back on all the things we stressed so much over and laugh. Most of what we worry about doesn't matter. It does not have any bearing on our salvation. So, why do we worry about it? Because we are selfish creatures. And moreover, if we did need these things over which we stressed so badly, Christ would give them to us. He knows, more than us, what we need.

We all are called to be where ever we find ourselves at the present moment with the tools we already have. If Christ knows this is enough to Fight the Good Fight, then experience and Scripture tell us it's true. So, let's not waste time yearning for what we don't have. Instead, take what we do possess: our faith, friends (those around us and those far away) and our family and fight God's fight. After all: I do all things in Christ, who strengthens me.

Tell me this is not a vision from Heaven sitting in my brother's lap? Finally, I am able to get a picture of my new little niece on the blog! I love her so much. I am so proud of my brother and sister-in-law.

I wanted to share this with you all. See most of you soon!

Lucy Margaret Smith

On July 22, 2006, a miraculous and amazing thing happened. And when it happened, it affected so many people. Tears were shed, screams echoed, and laughter ensued. Hearts were stirred. For a moment, the world stopped moving for two very happy people while their families waited for news and pictures. "For a moment the whole world revolved around one boy and one girl." At 12:17 pm on July 22, 2006, Lucy Margaret Mary Smith was born.

I have the priveledge of calling Justin Smith my brother. Despite the teasing and the trouble he's been known to get me in, that guy is one heck of a man. I am so very proud of him, and he has done so much for God already. Back in 1999, Justin left home and travelled from a foreign country to go to college. I was there for his first weekend. Braving all, he dove into a world completely foreign to him. And sitting behind him at Mass that Sunday was a girl whom I thought was absolutely beautiful. I had, as silly girls do, thought it would be wonderful if my brother fell in love with her. Except on that point, God and I agreed. Four years later, Justin graduated, dating the only girl I've ever felt deserved my brother.

He went on to Law School, with Molly's unwavering support and the two held a long distant relationship in the most mature fashion I've witnessed. It went from one to be proud of to two. Justin made waves at law school, never abandoning his faith and earning more awards than I could ever dream of winning. And Molly stayed patient and faithful to God and Justin. I was swelling with pride.

I'll never forget the day that I realized suddenly that Justin was not a boy anymore. It was after his second year of law school and he was coming home from his internship at a law firm. Three weeks before his wedding, he climbed the front steps in his pin stripe suit and greeted my father with a handshake. For a second, tears welled in my eyes. I was proud, but also a bit sad.

Two years later, Justin and Molly united in Holy Matrimony. It was on that day that I became acutely aware that things were going to be very different. No longer was Justin going to be coming home on his breaks, no longer were Justin and Molly just dating. God had united them together forever and Justin didn't belong to us anymore. I never told my brother, but I was the happiest girl on the day of their wedding. I can count very few moments when I've been that proud. And Molly, I was so happy to finally be able to truly refer to her as a sister. But the day after the wedding, I went home as one selfishly sad little girl. Justin and Molly were gone.

How wrong I was. I've seen more of Justin and Molly, especially Molly, than I did before thier wedding. And I was prouder still. Through the hardships of losing one baby and a job, Molly and Justin held onto each other and God. They truly became what all married couples should dream of becoming. And they made it through. They deserve all things happy.

And now they have that. Little Lucy gives me another reason to be so very proud of Justin and Molly. What wonderful parents the two of them will make. And how happy a family they will be! As I've grown up behind Justin, he has left a legacy that I have given up trying to live up to. Instead, I just sit in the back and watch the couple truly live the phrase, Restore all things in Christ.

I watched two very special people fall in love with each other and with God. From that simple, yet profound love has come a child. How amazing this is to me! And what a proud aunt I have already become. And it's not just my niece of which I am so proud. It's her parents, whom I hope know how much I dearly love them. As they build their family, I will only increase in reasons for my pride. May God bless that family always. And God bless my little Lucy.

The Vocation of Love

When I left school in May, I had no idea that life would be more eventful than Christendom. I honestly never thought that was possible. Among many things this summer, I was deeply honored and blessed to be asked to head up a young Catholic girls' group. My first night was Sunday. After much prayer and deliberation, I focused my scripture lesson on the passages about Jesus and the little children. I finished my talk with the reason why children are so special.

We all have lights, I told the young girls. Confused, one of the girls piped up. "What are lights?" I answered that she had brought me to my next point. I read the passage about not hiding one's light under a bushel basket. Suddenly, the girl's hand flew madly into the air and her eyes were shining brightly. After I called on her, she said something quite profound that consequently covered the rest of my carefully chosen points. "Oh! Our lights are our talents and those are gifts from God and we should use them to bring Christ to others." Why was it that I thought the young girls would have such a hard time grasping the concept of Christ's love, light, and maintaining the faith of a child? Because I'll admit openly, I was wrong.

Actually, I think adults would have a harder time grasping the simple profoundness of this idea. After all, adults have been so jaded and hardened that most have forgotten the crux of childhood. Simplicity and love. For everyone. My stress could not have gone unnoticed Sunday when I begged the girls not to lose this important virtue. With adulthood comes jealously, callouness, skepticism, and conditional love. Independence comes, too, and adults will often forget how to depend on their Father.

Children never see negative and evil. They only see the potential good in others and some lucky few even have the ability to sense the need for love in others. Children have this strange talent of being able to look through your eyes all the way into your soul. Adults never look at you long enough to do that. Some adults see the faults and they judge. Viciously. Children never lose the love for the beautiful. Sunsets, ice cream, dreaming. Most adults don't have time for the beautiful.

There are a select few with the vocation of maintaining that childhood inside themselves when they turn twenty-five, forty-five, even ninety-five. We are the people who have something stronger than a desire to love others, regardless of the choices they've made. We can't see the evil. We walk through airport and see God's creatures and can't pick out who's gay and who's a single mother. We are the people who God sends to those desparately lost and those who are panicking. He asks us to pick up these people, His lost sheep, and bring them back to Him in the most personal way. He asks us to give our heart to these people who have no idea what that entails. And it's these people who appreciate it so much.

We are the people who, because we have a dire need to love the unloved, hurt more than anyone will know. Stabs, insults, and rejection hurt more in us than in other adults. We feel it in our stomache and in our hearts. We never forget the hurt, but we instantly forgive the injurer. Our utmost desire is keep people in our light. And it is because He asks us to.

For some adults, childhood ends around eighteen years old. For others, it never ends. We always live in the world of happy sunsets, melting ice cream, and terrible pain. We hold our arms wide open for all of God's creatures while we are frightened to death of inevitable abandonment. We think about others first while we feel the ache of the lost and lonely. We are adults only in mind. We are children at heart.

And it is this that Christ calls out of all of us. But He orders it directly from a select few. A bittersweet vocation, it is full of happiness, but always causes pain. Child-like faith and love is a beautiful vocation. Not something to be hidden under a bushel basket, but set on a lampstand. Not to be hidden under our bed, but placed gently on the table. Through sharing it with others, we share it with ourselves. And Christ lights ours a little brighter each time.

Thank You

I take things for granted. I'm very bad about this. It takes me seeing how much it cost others before I understand how lucky I am. Unfortunately, these opportunties don't come very often. For any of us. And I know that I am not the only one who takes blessings in life for granted. Every person in my life does the same, to one degree or another. We live our lives, complaining about every little cross and weight, never giving one thought to what it is we do have.

Like Freedom and Life.

I went to eat lunch with my father two days ago (June 14). My father is deputy director at the Veteran's Association Hospital, a huge facility that serves many of our country's veterans. One need only take a walk through the wards to see the cost so many paid unquestioningly. For me, all it took was a walk through the dining hall. In line for my weekly hamburger, my mouth was watering. They can make some wicked hamburgers there and I had been working hard all morning. And then, it took just a minute too long to get up to the counter. I began to get impatient. As I was switching feet and grumbling, my eye caught something behind me at waist level.

It was a man. Confined to a wheelchair, he was prematurely old. Nothing was left to him, but sagging flesh and bones. Even his mind was no longer here. His patient wife stood beside him. "Honey, over here. We have to wait over here. We need to get you off the morphine. It really makes you sleepy." The man was slowly dying and his wife was having to watch him go. What a painful vocation. As I tore my stare from the man, I had to fight back tears. The tears weren't only because of his illness. He wore a hat. Vietnam Veteran, it read.

My God, I thought, this man fought in defense of me. He once marched valiantly off to fight a War, one in which he was never supported. He went off proudly, leaving his wife behind, and was the pinnacle of manhood: brave, strong, courageous, valiant, and sacrificing. And what was left of him. Nothing. He was slowly wasting away. He sat in an electric wheelchair completely incognizant of everything around him: his wife's loving beckons, my saddened stares. The soldier was gone.

It's a little late for Memorial Day and a little too early for Independence Day, but maybe it's better that way. We should always remember. Those soldiers who gave their lives lie in graves and those who gave less lie in wheelchairs. They unquestioningly gave what they were called to give and didn't think twice. Yet, when I can't have my food or see my friends, I complain. I have done nothing to deserve the every thing I have. Yet these men and women gave all and have nothing left.

Thank you to all the veterans who unquestioningly sacrifice everything for me so that I may be greedy and impatient. And for those still fighting overseas and their families, thank you. Thank you for being so kind as to lend your loved ones to such an incredible cause. God bless the soldiers: all those who have gone, those who shall go, and those to come. May God bless you and America.

Omnipotent Scandinavian

I speak English fluently, speak Italian almost fluently, and have a smattering of Korean in my vocabulary. After having moved all around God's little green globe, I would hope I would have picked something up besides the wonderful cuisines I've also tasted. If lost in America, I could ask the local cop for directions and be on my way in no time. If lost in Italy, I could easily find my way to a telephone and an english speaking person (a cute young man, preferably). In Korea, I could sound like I was answering a telephone and tell the nearest passer-by that I "would see him later". I think I'll stick with getting lost in America or Italy.

But for the life of me, everytime I get lost in my own little world, I don't know how to understand God. I can easily ask God for help. It involves quite a simple process. First, you stand alone in your room (college or at home) and look up to the ceiling. After making a half attempt to hold them back, you let the tears run. And then you start screaming at Him like you are His three year old torment. Hey, He made me. I have other tactics, too. I also try kneeling and praying. I do try this one, first. But inevitably, I have to resort to the former plan anyway. And I know He's answering. I can hear it and feel it. But, I can't understand.

It's kind of like walking up to a Scandinavian who understands English, but can't speak it. "Excuse me, kind and all-knowing Scandinavian Uncaused Cause. Can you tell me what in the world you are trying to tell me? I would be much obliged." However, instead of making it perfectly understandable, His response is something like, "Folketingets Web er udformet sådan at både øvede og mindre øvede brugere nemt og hurtigt ." You kind of stare blankly at Him, pretend you understood everything, and continue on your merry way.

Sometimes this works. This is because you guessed right; in His gibberish He was saying, "Yes, my half-witted, ambitious creation: you are doing exactly as I have laid out." But, sometimes, you run into the fifth brickwall of the week. This is because He was not motivating you. "No, my ignorant, over-reaching corporeal being." He tried to tell you, but you cannot speak Scandinavian. Normally, if you cannot understand a foreigner's speech, you must resort to body language. This does not work with our Scandinavian Uncaused Cause. In all His causing, He did not cause Himself a body ergo the lack of body language. We resort first to guessing, and when this does not work we resort to the three-year old temper tantrum.

Eventually the omniscient Scandinavian will pull out His pocket translator and slowly reveal His plan for the present moment. What it is that makes Him wait until you've slowly and deliberately performed your tantrum ritual five times in a week is beyond my knowledge. But, He does. And we have to wait, which is easier said than done. We scream and we cry (I'm the most guilty) and refuse to wait. And all the while we have been waiting, just not the most patiently. And then He reaches into His proverbial lederhosen and pulls out His Heaven Mall (corporate owner of Sky Mall, found on most airlines) pocket translator. He pulls us into His lap and tells all.

One day, I will learn to speak God's language. I'm finally understanding how I can begin to learn. Like any language, it takes much patience, more so with this one. An open mind is a plus because chances are, we're going to learn phrases and passages we don't like. And Love is always required. The language is full of this, which is flowing from Faith, another requirement for the language. I have to get these seemingly simple things before I can hope to understand what my God is trying to say.

Until then, I will develop my patience and hope Scandinavians have plently of their own. He is going to have to put up with a lot of mistakes and frustration before I can speak fluently. And one day, before too long, I'll wake up and suddenly be fluent in Scandinavian. I will finally be able to converse. Then, suddenly, I'll come to the realization that God actually speaks a different language, He wanted to play a wicked practical joke on me. This horrific thought will lead me to realize that I'm dead, in Purgatory, and must learn Mandarinian before I can even entertain the thought of entering into Paradise with our Uncaused Foriegner.

And Then It Came...

It's easy to avoid reality. You can distract your self in a multitude of ways and most of the time it works. Pretending things aren't really going to happen is easy, too. You just pretend life isn't going to happen. But, it is not fail proof. When you're all alone and have nothing to distract you, when you're in Mass in the Chapel, when you're falling asleep at night or waking in the morning, the truth will weave it's way into your mind like a worm. And it will explode a thousand images of the impending reality. And you want to run. Suddenly, too, the dreaded thing does happen. In my case, it did.

For a year and a half, I have been dreading the weekend of May 13, 2006. For a rather large group of people that are very dear to me, this was a happy weekend. And in that sense, I was happy, too. It's always nice to see your friends beaming. Especially when it's because they are graduating from College. They spend four long years studying, growing and learning in and outside of the classroom. Along the way, they suffer hardships, achieve grand accomplishments, and forge some incredible friendships. Most of these friends are in their class. But not always.

I, too, am blessed with some awesome friends. Over the last year and a half, I have made some deep ties with some very incredible people. But, over that last year and a half I have been dreading the good-bye of May 2006. At first, I could brush it off. I had a year and a half, then a year, then two semesters which quickly went down to one, then I had a few months, then a few weeks. Suddenly, before I knew it, I had one week left to make as many awesome memories and spend as much time as I possibly could with my friends.

And then we said good-bye. I have never felt quite so strongly and distinctly that my heart had been ripped from my chest, torn apart, and place back inside to heal on its own. But, that is how I feel. Saying good-bye to Ted, Kelly, Niki, Michele, Beth, Pat, A.J., and Larry (and others) was one of the most painful things I have ever had to do.

Being a military brat, it's hard to believe good-byes are still hard for me. But, my sister aptly put it. It doesn't get easier with every good-bye, it only gets harder and more frustrating. But, I wondered why the good-bye was so much harder with these people.

And then it occured to me. When I met these people and, a few months later, began working to make friendships with them, we seemed so very different. While one came from a large family in the mid-west, another came from a small family, loves to hang with boys, and was very sick once upon a time. Another had lived in California and now in North Carolina and he is very tall. She came from Virginia and was an excellent irish and swing dancer. He was completely phlegmatic, but if you tried hard enough, he would open up and was very kind. She was Italian and choleric and loved to mother her friends. He was a chivalrous guy and was proud of his Thai background. She was Polish, fun-loving, and very sensitive to others. And suddenly, after this eclectic group pulled together, another girl pushed her way in. She was short, loud, and loved to love others. And they let her in. And they were happy.

But what was it that kept us all together, through all the good and all the bad? It was unselfish love and complete giving of each other to each other. It was selfless sacrifice, spiritually, emotionally. But all of this stems from the passionate love each of us friends shares in Christ. All of what we have, feel, know, and care for stems from our strong faith. And when it wavered or faltered, another of us was there. We shared our flame and lit the other's love again. It was unquestioning support of this Christly love that brought us all together in that tiny campus in Northern Virginia. It was also that love that took them all away.

They go, now, to follow God's plan for them. I am so very proud. It makes me stand so very tall to think that my friends have left the stability and safety of Christendom College to seek the lost sheep and bring them back to Christ. They are going to all corners of the earth, some to Georgia, some in Virginia, one all the way to Italy. They will be forever in my prayers.

I have one more prayer, too, that I have been saying over the last few weeks and will continue to pray for a very long time. I pray that these incredible people never forget each other, the tall ones and the short ones. For it is through each other that we have been allowed such a pure and undeserved gift of friendship. We have grown closer to Christ and been allowed to see His love through each other.

Congratulations to the Christendom College class of 2006, especially my friends. May God always shine His light so you all may see where you are going and allow you to look back and remember from where you came. Never forget those lost sheep Christ asks you to love and never forget those who have loved you unquestioningly. God bless you always.