The Holiday Season

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas!
At least, for Arizonans.  I mean, that basically means that the lighting is different, it's actually cold in the shade and moderately warm in the sun instead of scorching.  We've been in the 30ºF range these past few mornings, and only in the low 70s in the afternoons!
Brr.
The desert animals are burrowing underground.  Frozen rattlesnakes are found on the sidewalks. (That's a lie.)  The coyotes aren't as vocal, as they quietly huddle somewhere in the valley to keep warm.

Normally, this change of seasons would excite something in my heart.  Yay! Christmas! Joy! Breaks from school! Cookies and carols and Jesus and Joy!

But frankly, this time last year marked the end of a lot of things.  As the cold in the air makes me shiver, the memories cause me to shudder with the memory of pain, loss, and fear.  I would give anything to forget it all.

Last Thanksgiving, my mom and I hopped off the plane at the Tucson airport after a 6-hour flight from Philadelphia.  We picked up the car and arrived at an empty house, still thinking about my uncles and cousins after my aunt's funeral.  Trying to make the most of things, I stumbled to the kitchen the mess of boxes and packing tape. (we had picked up and flown across the country amidst a move).  Wearing my Aunt Claire's old jacket (which her loving husband, Uncle Franklin, had passed on to me; Aunt Claire passed away from cancer over a year before,) I prepared an impromptu Thanksgiving casserole for my mother and me, as she killed a scorpion on the living room floor. (You've got to love the desert.)

I thawed some frozen ground turkey, and mixed it with stovetop stuffing, craisins, and a bit of gravy.  I sprinkled cheese on top, cooked up some sweet potatoes, and we had ourselves a pretty darn good Thanksgiving dinner (er, lunch - we were on Mountain Time now, though we were still internally on Eastern Time.)

It was not a bad Thanksgiving, per se; but we could think only of our relatives who faced their loss.
At that time, I faced the loss of a long-term friendship, the end of a dating relationship in which I was lead on, lied to, and - in some sense - mistreated.  Then my bird died.  I felt that my losses were nothing in comparison with those which others faced; but still, it was a time in which I found little to be joyful about.

I've had my meltdown at these memories, and now I sit here, considering how to approach this holiday season.   As with everything, we move forward; and that is what I am striving to do.  Though the sorrow from my losses has been rekindled within me, I am determined to light a new fire of love and peace this Holiday season.

I've been thinking about the Israelites, and how they waited thousands of years for the Messiah; for them, Christmas was a new beginning.  It was a time of rejoicing - yet, it was the beginning of an end.  The Christ child would grow to be a man, then he would die; but with his death would come new life.  It was the beginning to the end of sin, suffering and death.  And that end was a new beginning to life, joy, and hope.

In a sense, my experiences last year marked an end.  They were an end to my childhood, an end to my naîvety.  I faced new responsibilities, and put an end to my old troubles.  However, just like the Israelites, I had been waiting.  I was waiting to be tested, waiting to grow, waiting to find hope, waiting to understand the world around me.

Perhaps we're always waiting; waiting for Christ, waiting for hope, waiting for the right time, waiting to grow old, waiting for experiences.  To keep my mind away from my troubles, I must remember that my grief is like the monotonous interim of the Israelites.  Life came into the world for them.

This Thanksgiving, though I will inevitably remember the loss, I am determined to remember the gain. There is always something to be Thankful for.  As I celebrate Christmas and remember the waiting of the Jews, I should know what a joy there is; for there is hope, and there is rejoicing.  Death has been conquered and life has come anew! A new beginning may be found with Christ; He will always help me to conquer the death and the sorrow and the darkness.  The joy of his birth, the joy of his resurrection, resonates in the songs of the angels.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new has come!" 
- 2 Corinthians 5:17

Are You in Good Hands?

Tonight, after Confession, the priest told me: "God cares too much about your salvation for you to do this on your own; don't ever think He's not there." 

It makes me think of the hymn,
Be not afraid; I go before you always
Come, follow me,
and I will give you rest. 

I needn't worry about tomorrow, nor should you worry about tomorrow.
There's a plan.  It's taken care of.
Trust in God is basically an infallible insurance policy.

"Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself."
- Matthew 6:34

The Universal Church

The other day, I ran across a useful tidbit of information that I hadn't known before.  Perhaps I learned it, and then just forgot it because it didn't seem interesting or pertinent. (I was wrong.) Either way, it was fascinating and thought-provoking.

"Catholic" means "universal."

Our church is the Universal Church; it is not particular to one group of people, one set of individuals.  It is not different for you or me, and it does not merely pertain to a small group of things.  When something is universal, it is wholly-encompassing.

It is universal that we are men,*
It is universal that men can reason,
It is universal that men have spiritual souls,
It is universal that men have been created by God,
It is universal that men have had the Natural Law imprinted in their hearts,
And it is universal that we come to understand the Moral Law by following Christ's Church.

Just as it is universal that all men must eat and drink to survive, it is universal that all men ultimately belong to Christ's Church - the Catholic church - the universal church.

"The Catholic Church isn't inclusive!" Never before was a more ignorant statement uttered; for the Catholic Church is wholly inclusive.  All men are men of God, men created by God, created to be in Heaven.  The Catholic Church is the means to that end and, whether they know it or not, it is through that Church that they are saved.
If one is saved, He is saved through Christ's Church, whether he knows it or not.

Perhaps some look at this and say, "It's elementary."
Maybe it is. But I had never thought of it before!

Pax Christi cum tu homies sint.
(The Peace of Christ be with you, homies.)



*"Men," once again, meaning "mankind." I'm not being sexist. Sorry, feminists. I'm not sorry at all.

Beauty

As a young female, I am prone to looking at my own appearance and thinking, "Wow what a potato." Although I'm not nearly as self-conscious about my looks as I used to be, the little voice in my head still whispers insecurities. 

"Your eyebrows are really dark,"
"What's up with the muffin top?"
"You should stop smiling, because you always get a double-chin." 

Sometimes, that voice even says things like: "You will never have a chance with any guy.  There are millions of prettier girls; a man will never choose you over them."

My first instinct is to sigh sadly.  Then I'm just like "HOLD UP. I AM A STRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN OF CHRIST WHO DON'T NEED NO MAN TO DIGNIFY MY BEAUTY BECAUSE MY WORTH IS VESTED IN CHRIST." *snaps fingers in Z-formation* 

"Charm is deceptive, and beauty fleeting; the woman who fears the LORD is to be praised." 

- Proverbs 31:19-20

Frankly, it doesn't matter if you're tall or short, dark-haired or blond, whether your dress size is 4 or 24, whether you like to dress up or prefer t-shirts and jeans, or whether you wear make-up or not. 

I'm sure all God-fearing men would assure you that they prefer a woman who is confident in herself and, most importantly, loves God. 

Your body has been given to you to house your beautiful, unique, immortal soul.  In the words of Meghan Trainor, every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top.  

Ultimately, since there are still women out there who believe this, there are still men out there who respect it; there are men who know that "when one finds a worthy wife, her value is far beyond pearls." 

When the little voice in your head whispers to remind you of your imperfections, remind yourself that those words bear no weight in comparison with the words of Christ, who would say: "You are my beautiful Creation." 

Remember it.

Even if you have to write it on your mirror in Expo marker (that's what I did!) 

Pax Vobis,

Becca

When one finds a worthy wife,
her value is far beyond pearls.
Her husband, entrusting his heart to her,
has an unfailing prize.
She brings him good, and not evil,
all the days of her life.
She obtains wool and flax
and works with loving hands.
She puts her hands to the distaff,
and her fingers ply the spindle.
She reaches out her hands to the poor,
and extends her arms to the needy.
Charm is deceptive and beauty fleeting;
the woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Give her a reward for her labors,
and let her works praise her at the city gates.

(Proverbs 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31)