You Shattered My Darkness, Washed Away My Blindness

Hey all,

Before I say anything more, let me note that I have been following this blog continuously over the past few months, and would post more, however, all of your wonderful posts make my ideas seem a bit shabby. Needless to say, I have finally come up with a few ideas that I hope to get up here in the upcoming days/weeks that consist of three main ideas and/or stories. Firstly, mainly the story part of this mini series is found in the depths of this first post relating to how God has recently helped me snap my life back in to the right perspective and focus my attention on what is truly important: God and all his glory, and how I can better serve and worship him. This story is then tied in to the second of these new ideas I've been blessed to come up with, how often we forget why we go to church, and contains some recent news about how we interact with our fellow parishoners and priests. The third and final thought, is a bit of a tangent from the other two, it relates to the idea of sadness and how it relates to our souls when we reach the heavenly gates of our father's kingdom.

On to the main event then. This story focuses on how my newfound desire to be a part of our most Holy Catholic Church had begun to slip, and how God reminded me what he had in mind for my faith future. So pretty much since Cross Country began, I found myself losing sight of God, and losing focus on how I can be the best I can in order to praise him and worship him. I was so focused on being making the All-State team that I was willing to sacrifice anything to achieve it. This desire to succeed seemed to drown out anything else in my mind, and I could barely do anything without it burning its way in to my thoughts. Finally, the State meet came, and instead of making first team like I wanted, I had one of my poorest performances of the season (which I also thank God for, since I have now come to realize it was his way of telling me, "Forget me, and you forget the ability to succeed in using the gifts I have given you." Not to give you the wrong idea, I still made the All-State honorable mentions list, however I was still pretty steamed/ crushed about having fallen so short of my goal of first team (For reference, 1st team & 2nd team consist of the top 40 runners in the state, regardless of division, and honorable mention is the next 10 after those 40). So what did I do, did I step back and start looking for God in my hour of disappointment? Did I let go of this fervent desire to be one of the best that was choking me off from the world? No, instead I chose to refocus this incessant, unceasing desire (Desire isn't really the right word for this feeling, however I have yet to find a word that accurately describes exactly what I was feeling, and desire is the closest) on another race, a national qualifying meet in late november. I trained and trained through november, everyday by myself regardless of conditions or how I felt. I was so confident, arrogant in myself and what I had accomplished, that I forgot that it was God who had blessed me with this passion and ability to train unceasingly and to achieve what I wouldn't have thought possible a year ago. So, a week before the meet, he decided to remind me yet again, that he was still there, and that he was still my all powerful creator who can take away, as easily as he can give. He gave me this second nudge in the form of Plantar Fachiitis in my right foot (I know, sounds scary, but really isn't too bad. It's basically an overworked tendon in the base of your foot that stretches from heel to toes, and will cause you a lot of pain if you aren't careful). Turns out, my own desire to train so fervently had led to this injury, which would now cost me my final 8 days of training, by not paying attention to the fact that my running shoes had become so beat up, that they were no longer properly supporting my feet (hence the PF).

I know what you're thinking, "Dan, you must have gotten the hint by now right?" Sorry, you're wrong, I just got mad, and figured I could still train light and hopefully still do well at the meet. Well, the day of the meet came, and I had agreed to drive some friends of mine up to the meet (which is in Kenosha) with me. Again, I hate to pause for explanations, but this is a key point that if you don't understand, may lead to some confusion. Originally, I had planned to run in the boys seeded race, which is the race that if you finish in the top 10, you qualify for the national meet. This is not the only race you can run though, there is a second race for Junior and Senior boys who are talented, but may not be quite up to the level of the national qualifying guys (guys like me who are pretty good, but really have no real hope of qualifying for the national meet). Everyone understand? Excellent! Back to the story then. On my way up, my friends convinced me that since I was already injured, why not run the lower stakes Jr./Sr. race and maybe win a shiny medal (how exciting!). Finally, I agreed and decided to run with them in the unseeded (junior/senior) race. Skip to the starting line, 5 minutes before race time, as I walked around, finishing my pre-race warm up, a thought struck me. As I stood next to the starting line, my thoughts about Camp, and all of you wonderful LIT's, a certain supervisor, and a certain seminarian, I thought about God. It was a good feeling, and then I decided to pray. I asked God to help me through the race, and I offered up all the suffering I was about to endure (let's be honest, races aren't really "fun" until you finish) to him. The gun went off, and the battle of wills, hearts, and minds began. I'll spare you the blow by blow race account and skip to the end, it involves me sprinting past the leader and winning the race (my first win of my high school career I might add, coincidence between that and my prayer, I think not). I was all excited and thrilled and yada yada so let's skip to the next portion of our story. A week after that weekend, after a few months of missing out on celebration our father and sharing the holy eucharist in the holy mass, Taylor got me to come for another service at St. Pauls. Let me just say, I had forgotten just how great mass is. I can't say I remember every detail of it, but I do remember a familiar peace of mind returned to me during it, and while I was praying, this whole experience snapped life back into perspective for me and how I had failed to remember how great God truly is, and how he is always there for us when we are willing to let him in.

One more thing before I go, notice how I didn't say that it was my own training and guts that won the race, in fact, I really didn't do all that much other than turn my legs over. God came to me during that race. Everytime I wanted to give up, wanted to slow down to avoid any more pain, a little voice in my head kept telling me, "keep going, you can do it, I believe in you." I know for a fact that this voice wasn't mine, it was God, telling me he still believed in me. It's truly amazing how willing God is to forgive you no matter how many times you sin, no matter how long you shut him out for, he's still there, with open arms waiting for you to invite him in.

That's all I have for now, I hope this post finds all of you in great places in your lives and filled with God's wonder and love.

Peace and Love to all of you,
Dan(ny)

On A Snowy Winter's Day...

I tried to go to Mass this morning.  I really did.  Alas, it took my dad two hours or more to plow our driveway, and, at 4:00 p.m., a snowplow has still not visited our road.  The worse part is, my initial reaction was to be disappointed because I couldn't purchase more Fair Trade chocolate this morning...maybe I need to take a second to rearrange my priorities?

Taylor requested that I blog.  I don't actually have anything to say, but I'm going to pretend like I do.  I'm generally good at making things up.  

Not lying!  Lying is a sin.  Storytelling?  Random nonsense?  Yeah, I'll go with that.

After devouring a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, mini wheat bagel with peanut butter, and strawberries (which were delightful good for be so tragically out of season), I curled up on the futon with Jane Eyre.  Who doesn't love 19th century romance at 9 in the morning?  I am especially fond one peculiar moment when Mr. Rochester dresses up as a gypsy woman who insists on telling the fortunes of all of the guests at Thornfield, separately, just so he could gage whether or not Jane loved him.  Oh, the things we do for love!

Then, I ate some gold fish. I love gold fish.  The snack-that-smiles-back kind, not the dead-after-one-day-home-in-a-bowl kind.  It was about two weeks ago, and I was doing homework one night and my mom came into my room and asked me how I was doing.  Any normal person would have complained about the stress of homework or that they were about to fall asleep.  Instead, I jumped up and screamed "I WANT SOME GOLDFISH!!!"  She was quite taken aback.  I was even a little frightened after my outburst.  (But, man, did I have a craving for goldfish.)

The gold fish proved to be a suitable companion for a governess in the English countryside.  Yum. 

Then there was the frustration over FOX network and the fact that it didn't work and my dad was missing the Packer game.  (He very much enjoys making fun of all those die hard fans.  "I bet all kinds of guys are going CRAZY today," he commented, 5 seconds after he begged me to figure out what was wrong with the damn TV.)

Eventually, the station came back on.  "Well, I wouldn't have really cared if I didn't get to see the game today.  But now I get to watch, and that's ok too," said my father. " Even if they lose, I won't care.  I'm completely apathetic about whether or not the Packers do well."  (Or something like that)  This comment was made approx 10 seconds before he began to moan and groan and shout at the screen about how awful they were playing.  Apathetic?
Riiiiiiight.  

I retreated back to my room to work on scholarship applications.  A good twenty minutes or so into my 367th visit to Facebook, my mom came in to inform me that Aaron Rodgers had gotten a "Boo-Boo."  So concussions are "Boo-Boos" now?  Good to know the next time I concuss my brain I'll just tell you I "got a little Boo-Boo!"

Then, my family watched the Metrodome collapse.  We guffawed, then laughed.

That was about the end of the excitement for today.  I've been writing an essay for admission into the Honors program at Stout.  Even though I don't actually plan on going there.  But, you know, gotta cover my bases.

It's decision making time, when it comes to colleges and stuff.  I'm applying for countless scholarships, honors programs, and fellowships.  I'm totally overwhelmed with paperwork, recommendation letters, and essays about what I want to be when I grow up.  

To inspire me, I found this quote.

"Jesus, help me to simplify my life by learning what you want me to be - and becoming that person." ~St. Therese of Liseux

I've pretty much figured out that art is what I'm meant to do.  In what aspect, I have no idea.  But for now, it feels right.  I'm just trying to figure out where I'm meant to go.  Because heading to Marquette, Michigan-the largest city in the UP at a grand total of 20,000 people-is pretty likely, this whole Snowpocalypse thing is good for me.  Bring it on, Northern Michigan.  Bring. It. ON.  (I found this article on a blizzard that hit the UP last January.  Winter Wonderland?)

Taylor, you're welcome.  Now it's your turn.

Alanna!

Hail Mary, Full of Grace

I don't know if it's even possible for me to explain the deep respect and love I feel for the Blessed Mother.

 

I am constantly taken aback by how perfect she is. I mean, seriously, she is perfect, and it's just so much to comprehend. You all know how big of an impact Mary has had on me, and the special place she holds in my heart (in case you've forgotten, check out my initial blog post explaining how she grabbed a hold of my heart and refused to let go). Perhaps it was due to the closeness I've always felt with my own mother; perhaps it was due to the lack of depth my faith had up until that point; perhaps it was due to some reason that only the Blessed Family knows--regardless, Mary opened up an entire new spectrum of beauty for me, one that I never would have found on my own.

So now, I want to honor her. I want to show her that for all she has done for me, I want to honor her in a way that will glorify her actions and show people her love. I mean, think about it. She is perfect. Of course we can look to our fellow saints or the highly-praised Saints for guidance, but ultimately they are all flawed. We are all flawed. Mary alone is the perfect human being. She is what God intended humanity to be. It completely humbles me all the time. I try so hard to be a faithful Christian, and in doing so I try to bring other people with me--but ultimately, I am so terribly flawed. Mary isn't. She lived to glorify God. I want to live to glorify God.

In this past week, I've been visiting a certain blog very often. It is that of Father Eric Sternberg, one of the priests from St. Paul's. He has been talking a lot about Marian Piety, which really gets me excited. I love soaking up knowledge and learning more and more about our mother. He kind of touches on one of the things I love most about Catholicism: "as Pope Benedict XVI stated in his most recent apostolic exultation Verbum Domini, 'Catholics are not a people of the book; they are a people of the Word.'"  I love this. I love that the teachings of the Church are not limited to what is said in the Bible. It is a living faith, not a faith based off of a book. Saints continue to be canonized and Mary continues showing herself to people around the world. The beauty of this faith stays alive, and a huge part of that is because of Mary.

My point here is that I want to show Mary--and the rest of the world--how beautiful she really is. I'm really into routine, as Alanna talked about a little in her last post, so I've begun incorporating Mary into my daily routine. I don't commit to saying the rosary daily. I wish I could, but in trying that I had lost the feeling, the love of praying it, and I couldn't let that happen. I wasn't going to let the act of prayer be some sort of burden. So instead, I pray it when I need Mary, I pray it when I'm overwhelmed by her love; I pray it when I'm with someone holy (or, in a holy place, like I was last week during one of the best nights of my life!). Like always, friends, I'm sure I will (if I haven't already) sound like a washed-up wannabe motivational speaker, but you are all nice and loving people, so I assume you will forgive me. Please incorporate Mary into your day. When school gets stressful, say a Hail Mary. When homework gets unbearable, pray the rosary. When friends and family and life seem too overwhelming and awful, type in Blessed Mother on Flickr (which will first show you Mother Teresa, a completely amazing woman whom we should all strive to be like, but will soon show you beautiful statues of Mary... and also some strange little girl that takes far too many pictures of herself). Look to her in times of struggle, but praise her in times of joy. She intercedes in our prayers. She strengthens them and makes them perfect for Jesus, perfectly worthy to be heard by our Lord. She is perfect. We can't fully understand it, but it's true. Love her for it; show her your love. Even better? Show your love for Mary by showing your love for Jesus. I promise, she'll be even more honored.

Try it out, friends. See what happens.

Love you, praying for you.

Taylor

Glee, Nerdfighters, Saints, and Dorothy Day. Oh, the Workings of My Mind...

I'm always looking for ways to intertwine

pop culture

fashion

art

and anything super nerdy 

into blog posts about God.

I can't stop listening to this song.  I get that way sometimes. ( Really obsessed...) 

I've never been a huge fan of Glee, but I'm always a fan of good music.  One line in the final song from the last episode really hit me.  Slapped me in the face?  Threw me up against a wall?  Knocked my head against a locker?  Something like that.  Florence and the Machine, kudos to your strangeness.  I'm a fan.
 

"I never wanted anything from you...except everything you had, 

oh, 

and what was left after that too..."

It struck me that this can be a good thing, and a bad thing.  In AP Lit, we are reading Beloved by Toni Morrison.  It's a tragic story about an escaped slave who slits the throat of her toddler to save it from being taken by a slavecatcher.  In the book, the spirit of this toddler (Beloved is her name) comes back as an adolescent.  She feeds off the mother, demanding all of her attention, affection, love, time, and resources.  Her other child is neglected, her lover is neglected, her hygiene and health are neglected, and her job is neglected.  She wastes away while Beloved takes her revenge.  The mother will stop at nothing to prove she did it out of love.  Crazy, twisted, horrible, and tragic.

On the other hand, people do this everyday.  A boyfriend says to his girlfriend "If you really loved me, you would skip that family function to hang out with me."  A friend feeling left behind begs another to stay home and not leave for 3 weeks on an exchange trip to Germany.  When they both say no, expectations rise, hearts break, and emotions boil.  The draining begins...

I realize I give too much of myself to things that don't matter, in ways that don't have any real meaning.  The only person who should expect everything out of me?  God.  He deserves every ounce of me.  Every move I make I make in You; You make me move Jesus.  Every breath I take, I breath in You!

I have recently been introduced to the word of Nerdfighters.  Otherwise known as Nerdfighteria.  (I'm being totally serious.)  Have you ever read Looking for Alaska?  An Abundance of Katherines?  Paper Towns?  All quality YA novels written by John Green. 

Have you ever felt like a total dork?  Do you like really nerdy things, like Harry Potter?  

Do you hardly ever forget to be  totally AWESOME? 

If you answered YES to any of those questions, please consider watching this video.  Any every other video created by the vlogbrothers.  (So, I realize this is totally weird, nerdy, strange, odd, off topic, you name it.  Obviously, I'm over it.  I just get really excited about silly things like this, and I wanted to invite you all.  Don't judge.)   

and now.....for a delicately crafted segue into my next topic.  This one is seriously about Jesus.  I promise.


I wrote an earlier post about St. Josemaria Escriva, and even then I was pretty impressed with how cool he was.  Ever since, little pieces of his wisdom keep popping up all over my world.  It's super inspiring.  I've also done a bit of research about Opus Dei.  (Thanks Bill for an excellent explanation)  I can't seem to get enough of  this guy!  If you don't want to buy a book (but you should.  It's so totally worth it)  just take a little trip to this site where you can find some of his writings. 

The other day, Taylor told me she has been settling into a little routine for herself.  (A routine is most certainly something I am striving to fall into)  I think tradition can help immensely deepen your faith life:  no matter what, you'll always have that moment of every day to be at peace with the world, to talk to God, and to completely wash away all vanity and just serve Him.

She described to me how she humbles herself before God every morning.  It kind of plucked at my heartstrings when you told me that, Tay.  I mean, how beautiful!  To be so in love with God that you are willing to complete lay yourself down for Him.  How many other teenagers have that kind of love for anything besides their own reflection? 

"There is no room among us for the lukewarm. Humble yourself and Christ will set you aflame again with the fire of Love." ~St. Josemaria Escriva.

I can't make up any excuses to just be sort of Catholic anymore.  I can't just get excited about one thing, like praying the Rosary.  Yeah its powerful, but everything else should bring me that same joy. 

"I really only love God as much as I love the person I love the least." ~Dorothy Day

Dorothy, you are not making my life easier.  Now I feel bad!  I'm certainly one to see the flaws in the seemingly Neanderthal-like teenagers I go to school with.  But, I'm not here to judge. 

I'm here to love and to be loved

and to serve.

Alanna! 

Advanced Compositon Assignment Brings Me Back "Home"

So in Adv. Comp, we had to write a paper about a word, and we had to describe what we thought this word meant, and such.. so I chose "Home".

So. I hope you enjoy. my perspective of "home".

My Home

Home, to me home isn’t a place you live, it isn’t where you sleep, eat, or play. Home is much more than that. Home is where a soul dwells. It is where I am able to be myself, where I am able to be free, no strings or questions attached.


Where does a soul dwell? A soul dwells in a safe, reliable place. Somewhere it can call its own. Where it is able to run free, live, without fear. The soul dwells where love is found. Where hope is a number one contender in the game of life, where happiness has no boundaries. Where the soul dwells, is somewhere filled with peace and excitement all at once. Where there is no care in the world except for the moment at hand. That is where a soul dwells.


Now where am I able to be myself? I am able to be myself in a place 131 miles away, in the little town of Reedsburg, Wisconsin. My home is a long gravel road leading into a different world. It is filled with laughter, love, and joy. My home is running through the athletic field screaming at the top of my lungs read for the best game of our lives. Around the ringing of laughter, faces filled with “war paint” from ashes. My home is filled with the dim hallways of night, while children dream of Christians fighting the tough battle from the Romans. Leaders filling the hearts of children with hope, while singing the sweetest lullabies.


Where I am able to be myself is sitting around a fold up table, drinking warm hot chocolate, conversing about the highs and lows of my day. Chatting about where God was today, and the cute children we worked with.


The place I call home is a place like no other. Where I am able to sleep around the ones I love in the old chapel, where I am able to eat sundae crunch bars while singing songs or playing ninja. My home is sitting in the Chapel, listening to the enchanting sounds of the care free world around me.


My home is the dark gray asphalt, where the light “ping” of a basketball hits the back board as a child reaches his dreams in a game of lightning. Where the sound of laughter and joy ring out daily. My home is the seventy-five degree weather, partly cloudy, with the sun peeking out of a cloud, the ray landing right on my face warming me to the core.


My home is not just a simple camp ground. My home is not a place of the past. My home is not a crutch, for when you need a “happy moment”. My home is holy ground. It is so much more than the land. It is so much more than the people. It is so much more than all of that. My home is a place to learn about myself, and the world around me. My home shows me that I am strong in all I do. This is what every home should do. Help whoever’s soul that dwells there, to find itself, and make it the person that they will be for the rest of their lives. That is what a home is.

Unexpected (and Perhaps Illegal) Bliss

Tonight was a good night.


First, I went to Starbucks. It was obviously delicious and satisfying, and I got a lot of awesome Catholic reading/research accomplished. I read from the Catechism (and narrowly avoided spilling pumpkin spice latte on it), from the Compendium, and from numerous blog sites and news articles. I watched countless videos of awkward but incredibly holy people, and my night was going wonderfully.

Then Glenna met me there. We were both super bummed, because our original intent was to go to the incredible service that is Candlelight mass at St. Paul's, but it was cancelled tonight because of Thanksgiving break. I wish I was smart enough to properly explain how breathtaking this mass is. First of all, St. Paul's is a pretty dark church. It's not pretty, but it's still awesome. It's all concrete. It's dark, contains no stained glass, and feels kind of like a bomb shelter (though there are plans to start building a new church in 2013!). But it's wonderful. It focuses your attention on the one truly beautiful thing that resides in an otherwise dingy building: the tabernacle. Anyway, during candlelight mass, the only thing lighting thie churh is a few dozen mini candles. I wish I could find a picture, because it's awesome. The choir sings above you, incense fills the air and you're completely focused on Jesus. It is perfect.

But of course, the one night we can go together, it gets cancelled.

So we sat at Starbucks and talked. She has extremely awesome things happening in her life right now, and I loved to listen to the energy and love God has given her. Glenna is kind of like me, in that she gets incredibly caught up in the glory of Christ all the time. So obvi, I love hearing her, and I feed off of her excitement.

We probably could have kept going for hours, but unfortunately, the male barista kicked us (and the only other customers, some Asians who we're fairly sure didn't speak English) out at 10. I don't remember who said it, but one of us suggested checking if St. Paul's was open.

We walked the short distance down the street to the front doors, and all the lights were off. Bummed, we started to walk away. Unwilling to leave without just checking to be sure, we agreed to try to open the doors. I was closer to the first door, and by a miracle, it opened. We stared at each other in complete awe, unsure if we were about to do something illegal. But hey, it was for Jesus, so we had to do it.

We blessed ourselves with holy water and entered the chapel. We were alone--just us and Jesus. Being alone, hearing nothing but the sound of the rain outside dripping down, we sat in wonder, pouring everything out to Christ and showing our deep, passionate love for him.

Then we prayed the rosary. We started out quiet, and gradually worked up to where our normal voices seemed to echo throughout the church. I led; Glenna led; we both nearly fell to the ground in appreciation for what the Lord was doing for us. When we finished, we silently prayed. Together but separate, we thanked God for everything, I (and perhaps Glenna, I couldn't tell) teared up, and listened for whatever he wanted to tell us.

Then I don't know what happened. It was one of those moments where I felt like God had complete control over me, and if someone had walked in, I probably would have gotten in trouble. I went up to the altar and stood before the tabernacle. I dropped to my knees and professed my servanthood to God. I want to please him. I'm not just becoming Catholic because I want to receive the Eucharist. I want to become the best Christian I can be, and tonight I felt that. I kneeled and prayed, and told God everything I needed to tell him. Then, in true Opus Dei fashion, I kissed the floor. Thank you, Father Sternberg, for planting this idea in my head. It was just so amazing because it wasn't just something I wanted to do. It was something I was compelled to do. I needed to do this, for God and for myself, to continue humility and show my gratitude for everything he has done for me.

Basically, the Blessed Family is perfect. God changed our plans, completely bummed us out, and then made things better than we could have imagined. We prayed to Mary, and she coerced Jesus into giving us this awesome experience. I couldn't have asked for anything better.


What I mean to say, friends, is that I am completely in love with Jesus Christ.

Also, I will be accepted into the Church five months from Tuesday. Pray for me, as I will be praying for you.

Love you.
Taylor

ON A SIDE NOTE: I don't even like the word bliss. I think it's cheesy and overused. But, alas, it was all I could come up with when writing this, so don't judge.

Things I Wish I Would Have Done in My 2.5 Weeks

I am not at all complaining about my experience as an LIT. It couldn't have been more perfect. I discovered myself and discovered a deep spirituality that I never expected. I also discovered the overwhelming beauty of a Church I had so ignorantly misinterpreted, and that's the greatest thing I could ever ask for. The thing about Camp Gray, though, is that no matter how much you gain from it--no matter how big of an impact it has had on you, no matter how much you love going there, no matter how beautiful you may think it is--it always has more to offer (I know, obvi, God made this place for people to grow closer to Him, and He always pulls through on that). There's just so much that I would do if I had more time at Camp--individually, with you all, with my campers. with everyone. If I am blessed with a position there this summer, I will do all of this. I'll check everything off, then do it all over again. I'll continue developing in my relationship with our Father and whomever I find myself strolling the paths with. If I don't get hired, I'll live--but I may need to come visit someone so that I can take full advantage of the beauty of Camp Gray.

Things I Wish I Would Have Done in My 2.5 Weeks

1. Spent more time in the grotto

I can't even begin to explain how much peace Mary has brought me. She is so perfect, and being loved enough by God to have a relationship with the mother of Jesus completely astounds and humbles me. Seriously, guys. She's the reason I'm becoming Catholic. Her rosary--praying through Mary--completely changed my life. The grotto is so simple, yet so powerful. The emphasis on the Mary statue just made me forget everything else and remember how awesome and perfect the Blessed Mother is. Despite the hoards of mosquitos that bombarded me every time I went to this forest-surrounded haven, it was perfect. If I had the chance, I would spend hours upon hours praying to Mary in that grotto. So wonderful.

2. Explored the labyrinth more

I've never actually been taught how to explore the labyrinth. I don't know if it's supposed to have a meaning other than forgetting your other thoughts and focusing on God? Who knows. After hearing Glenna's awesome story about her experience, I wish I would have gone through it more (if you don't know Glenna, you should get to know her. She's an awesome person). Danny and I did it on the day we made our decision(!), but that was together and we spoke throughout. No, I want my alone time with God. I want a chance to hear nothing but what He wants me to hear. I can do that through prayer, but this real interactive experience can be so powerful. If I had the chance, I would go through the labyrinth alone. Just to see how it feels.

3. Explored the trails more

I've been a camper for many years, so I'm pretty confident that I know my way around most of camp. I could take you to any well-known location with ease, but that's not what I want. I want to explore and find things I never even knew existed. I want to find the spot that God wants me to find, somewhere perfect for me to pray and develop and become the Christian He wants me to be. I want to explore the purple trail and the red trail and unmarked trails and just see where they lead me. This year, my spot was probably the most obvious place ever--the bench, right next to the BBC. It's slightly raised up, giving me the view of every angle, with the shade of the trees next to me. I witnessed a lot from that bench--from late-night stargazers to kitchen raids to yet another furniture-moving pathfinder prank. Plus, I read pages and pages of books that would completely change my outlook on faith and life and everything that goes along with them. Life is good.
4. Learned to not sleep
I broke the rules and stayed up way past our bedtime on more than one occasion. I always wanted to stay awake all night and get everything accomplished that I could imagine, but it didn't work out that way. Ever. More often than anything else, I would wish that I could just keep talking, keep learning, keep discovering new ways to praise Jesus. Unfortunately, we need to charge up, so that didn't happen. Learning how to not sleep would have solved so many problems for me.
5. Spent more time in the chapel
I spent so much time in St. Francis. Every day at least once, for sure. I honestly do not understand how a chapel so tiny can have such great effects on people. I mean seriously, it's where I decided to become Catholic. Such a holy place in such a tiny space. I love it, and I wish I had all the time in the world to just sit there, reflect, and pray.

Things I May Have Sacrificed to Make Those Things Come True
1. Time bonding with my LITs
2. Seriously awesome one-on-ones (or two-on-ones, or two-on-twos)
3. Hot chocolate with a button that stuck every time
4. Miranda smacking the fly in the middle of our devotion
5. One of my campers telling her friend not to worry, that she got through her homesickness when she "pictured God lying next to me, giving me a big hug and telling me how much he wants me to have fun with my friends and my counselors." Melted my heart.
6. Realizing that I'm not as good at tetherball as I was when I was a trailblazer (and I'm not as grossly competitive, either)
7. The faces of my girls during Mass. Praising Jesus and loving it. So beautiful.
8. Dan Harper's other half
9. The hallways of Vinnie's at night. Lit up only by the light of a stray headlamp or two, filled with soothing songs for our Father
10. The end of Sundae Crunch bars at Camp Gray. Such a sad day.
11. My very first lion hug
12. That lion hug turning into an obsession, making me embarrass myself constantly, but love it nonetheless
13. Almost sleeping in our tents three nights in a row, until we finally gave up and just moved into the Joe
14. Walking into the chapel the first day Father Greg got to Camp, and being alone in the chapel with him. Realizing what a wonderful impact he would have on campers, and being overwhelmed with joy.
15. The moment I realized that God helped Michelle help me, and helped me help Michelle
16. Learning how to make a rosary. Not only could I pray it, but now I could create a tool to bring myself and others closer to Him
17. Danny walking into a conversation about my struggles, and subsequently discovering he had the exact same ones. Slowly realizing that he is in the exact same point in his faith life as I.
18. Countless other somethings beautiful that are not currently popping into my mind.

Basically, Camp Gray is a holy place. God filled me with this hunger for His glory, and this place helped me temporarily fill it. God is love, God is home. Camp is filled with the Holy Spirit; therefore, it is filled with love, and it is home. And if this picture didn't fill you with love and joy, I don't know what will.

(Courtesy of Lauren, and the Camp Gray Facebook page)

Love you all. Praying for you, always.

Taylor

Alanna's Thoughts On Things That Are Awesome

It never ceases to amaze me, how the littlest things can make my entire day.

His smile and wink in the hallway could make me beam for the rest of the day, for no particular reason except that it was so awesome to remember that he actually cared.

Song lyrics that make me go "ah HA! That's what I'm feeling!"  and then proceed to play over and over and over and over in my head (its like my iPod stuck on replay, replaaaaay)

When I'm driving along, and then that one silly song comes on the radio and I just want to burst with happiness and I can't help but freak out and dance and "put my hands up, cause they're playin my song, and the butterflies fly away" or declare my status as a single lady and ask why he didn't put a ring on it. (And have random people on the sidewalk wave at me because they think I'm waving at them...)

There are these two little boys who come with their parents to mass every Sunday.  Seriously, cutest things you'll ever see.  Plus, the older one carries a Woody doll (you know, from Toy Story) with him everywhere.  Today, he taught Woody how to pray the Our Father.  Woody dangled in the air, with the boy holding one hand and his mom holding the other.  I had this little dialogue going on in my head, Tom Hanks' voice struggling to recite the prayer, making goofy comments.  Who doesn't get a kick out of that?

Knowing that my twin lives in McFarland and realizing something crazy we have in common everyday.  Getting silly, crazy, creepy texts from her at all hours of the day.  When she says one little thing, and I have one of those DUH moments.  She brings me back to Him, and that's awesome.  She makes me a better person :)

A funny bumper sticker.  

A ridiculous Facebook status.

My daily cup of hot chocolate.

Squirting Reddi Whip directly into my mouth.

Finding a bible verse printed on the bottom of  forever21 bag.  This store prints John 3:16 on the bottom of each of its yellow shopping bags.   "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."  Awesome.

Things that are knit.  Like giant knit hats and mittens.  Especially if they have huge, fluffy pom poms and are made of bright colors.  

Barn cats who don't bother to wait for you to pet them, but instead weave themselves in and out of your legs and rub their own bellies.  Also, cats who try to get into fights with 1500 pound horses.  And cats who jump out at me from between saddle blankets, or stalk me from the rafters and then leap out of nowhere and try to steal my lead rope.

Halloween costumes that don't make sense.

Getting mail.  Lately I've been really popular!  I get some type of mailing from colleges everyday.  But you know what really gets me excited?  Letters.  Good, old fashioned snail mail that has post office stamps from all over the U.S.  I get so excited that someone took the time to write me a letter, and buy a stamp, and scribble out my address, and were even brave enough to lick the envelope glue that tastes worse than death.  It makes me super giddy and I do this little happy dance while I rip the envelope to shreds because I'm not very patient.

Funny words.  Like Vituperation.  Or Bazinga.  Or any of these words, cause they're awesome.

When I know I'm wearing a kickass pair of shoes.  And they click when I walk down the hallway.

Fabulous sunglasses.  Not like these...(cause shutter shades are dumb)

...but when someone can rock a pair of sunglasses like Audrey Hepburn could.  Yeah.  Classy.  I just have one question.  What happened to the floppy hat?  Why can't I wear huge floppy hats?

Praying the rosary in that awkward time before mass, when all the old people are shuffling in.  The looks they give a teenager actually involved in prayer are priceless.

Art.  Painting.  Drawing.  When the flick of my wrist perfectly captures the curve of a neck or the sturdiness of a tree trunk.  Or when I mix the perfect color.  Satisfaction.

The fact that last night sucked but I got through it, because J-Dawg and his padre are awesome listeners.  And that this blog post makes me incredibly happy because before I started typing, and didn't have any idea what I was going to say and all this ridiculous stuff is the result.

Alanna!

Giving Catholics a Bad Rep

I was watching the news on Monday morning, and this segment on New York mayor candidate Carl Paladino put the cherry on the top of a great morning.  (Notice the sarcasm oozing from that statement)

Paladino gave a speech about his anti-gay marriage stance.  In the speech, Paladino expresses his idea of homosexuality-that it is unsuccessful, and those who grow up to marry a member of the opposite sex are much better off.  "I don't want them [children] to be brainwashed into thinking that homosexuality is an equally valid and successful option," Paladino said.

The speech begins by him apologizing to homosexuals and saying that his remarks are against gay marriage, not meant to offend anyone who is gay.  Alright buddy.  If you feel the need to apologize before you say something, obviously you know the connotation and effect of your words.  I'm sorry, but if someone told me my way of life was a terrible, unsuccessful thing, I would be extremely offended too. 

The speech, the interview, and Paladino's cold reaction to questions about whether or not he thought his anti-gay marriage statements would fuel discrimination against homosexuals made him look rehearsed, rather ridiculous, and misinformed.  When asked about his views, however, Paladino begins one of his sentences by saying "I'm a Catholic..."

I was infuriated.  This is the type of person people are using to judge all Catholics by.  This politician, whose only reason for speaking out against gay marriage is because his opponent decided to attend a gay pride parade with his daughters, and Paladino was fishing for votes.


Yes, I am fully away that in the eyes of God, a marriage between two men or two women is not a marriage at all.  People who believe in the validity of this institution are simply people who have a different view.  You and I may feel it is wrong, but how does that make a gay couple unsuccessful, invalid, and terrible? I just don't see it.  Homosexuals can do great things too!  They can be happy, adopt children, and raise them to be happy, confident, independent, successful people.  Maybe they won't be Catholic.  Big deal.  I would much rather associate with a solicitous, conscientious person who was raised by gay parents than someone who is Catholic and can't seem to lift a finger for others, or works more hours than they spend with their children.  Good people come from all different kinds of backgrounds, and having an open mind about their roots, sexual preferences, beliefs, etc, is really the key to getting along.



Paladino made himself look like a stereotypical bible thumper, not someone whose actions and thoughts are purely to praise God, his son, and his creation.

And now, I am in need of a segway into a conversation that Taylor and I were having earlier today.  She says I should use "On a completely unrelated note..."  However, the literary genius in me is going to try to make this relate.

Today, Mo-T invited all of us to attend the March for Life trip to Washington D.C.  Though many hours on a bus, a couple days in D.C, praying, praising God, and all other kinds of awesome are things are bound to happen, anything that has to do with pro-life propaganda and abortion protests general makes me uneasy.

Don't get me wrong.  I am 100%, without a doubt, against abortion.  This is not something I endorse, accept, or would ever choose for myself.  In that regard, I am pro-life.  On the other hand, I would not want abortion to be made illegal.  Restrictions, yes.  Required education, yes.  But I don't want my right-a woman's right-to choose to be taken away.  To have an abortion is not a choice I would make, because I don't think I have the right to choose life or death.  However, the fact that I had the option of making a choice would mean everything to me.  I'm not going to choose it, but having the option seems like one more weapon a woman can use to protect herself against the evils in this world.  In this regard, I am pro-choice.  I want to have the opportunity to make a choice.  I want other women to be able to make a choice.  Just because I choose to have a child does not mean that someone else is going to feel the same way about their child.  All we can do is pray for them and hope they can repair their relationship with God.  Its like this-I don't feel that it is my right to take away someone else's right to choose.

I hate those labels: pro-life and pro-choice.  Can't I be somewhere in between?  It makes me feel like, if I'm not pro-life, I'm pro-killing?  So not true.  If I'm pro-choice though, it's as if I can't be pro-life.  Does it make me a terrible person if I don't want to scream the horrors of abortion at the top of my lungs while holding a nearly offensive sign?  I guess I just like to keep to myself.  I want to share God's love, not tell people everything they believe in and do is wrong wrong wrong.

(insert something super clever here, but nothing overused, like Peace or It's Been Real)
Alanna

Super Awesome and Life-Changing Events

My life is usually so boring. My nights often consist of doing homework, stressing over college, or talking to Alanna while I should be doing one of the aforementioned activities. Recently, however, it has been full of completely terrifying yet completely wonderful events that I'll probably never forget. They basically all center around two main things: Jenna Keller and RCIA. Now, I realize that it's going to be a complete ego boost for Jenna that half of my post is about her, but I figure she's worth it. I've kind of grown to like her. And, since Bill has made me realize the joys of chronological and numerical formatting through his most recent posts, I have decided that I will follow suit.

Super Awesome and Life-Changing Location #1: Starbucks on State Street
For those of you who haven't been there, the Starbucks on State Street is wonderful. Instead of having the normal setup with handfuls of tables and chairs scattered about (and two comfortable chairs slightly angled at each other), this Starbucks has an upstairs that is much larger than its downstairs, and it is wonderful. It has comfortable chairs, couches, tables, and even a white-board that people write strange poems on. Since Jenna Keller is a wonderful human being, she introduced me to this wonderland, and we have met up on occasion to talk faith and life and all things awesome. It's not often a good idea, though, since Jenna has a lot to do and I'm just so awesome that she can't concentrate on her work while I'm around. I try to stay out of the way and help her as much as possible, but it doesn't always work out.

Well, one night I received an excited and hurried phone call from Jenna saying that she had a wonderful idea: that Sunday, a few days after her phone call, was a confirmation mini-retreat for her kids in Waunakee, and she wanted me to teach a class on the rosary. You know, the one who's not even Catholic yet. The one who just learned how beautiful and wonderful the Church is this summer. The one whose knowledge only spreads as far as her friends, a few books, and a few blog posts that she has been obsessively following. But hey, what did I have to lose? I mean, the worst that could happen is that I wouldn't go visit Jenna at St. John's ever again out of shame. And plus, I'd be doing it for Jesus. So of course I agreed.

The next day (after seeing Alanna AND MC in the same day!) I met up with Jenna at Starbucks. Like always, I was distracting and caused her to get very little work done. The problem this time, however, was that I was the one that needed help. After reading a few things and stealing yet another one of Jenna's books, I decided it was time to put it off until later and enjoy my time with our lovely supervisor. I won't tell the entire story, because it was long and slightly embarrassing, but I finally asked Jenna to be my sponsor. I had been planning it forever, but I thought at first that I should wait until class started, then I was afraid it would just add more stress to her life, but it all worked out in the end. I didn't prepare for the mini-retreat at all until Saturday night, but I got my sponsor, and that was all that mattered.

Sunday night rolled around, and I was beyond nervous. Jenna wasn't going to be with me, and it is totally out of my element to just speak to 40 people at a time about Catholic traditions (obvi), so if I hadn't kept reminding myself that I was doing it for Jesus, I probably would have chickened out. There were three groups of 40 that rotated stations. I had 30 minutes to talk about something that I had just really learned three months prior to the session. It was terrifying. I am such an awkward person, as you know, and sitting alone at the beginning didn't help. It also didn't help that I messed up saying the rosary. The way it worked was that I would talk about how the rosary came to be, why we say it, what it means, etc. for about 10 minutes, then we would pray the rosary together for the remainder of the time. The explanation went fine all three times, but I messed up saying the rosary... twice. Once I completely forgot the Our Father, and another time I randomly added in the Our Father at the end of one of the decades. Basically, I stink, and I don't know why. I always say the rosary, and I say it right. I could recite the Hail Mary to a bunch of campers this summer, but I couldn't do this simple task. I was bummed, but I got over it. I did pretty well in the end, and if none of their parents/sponsors were willing to teach this, then they would have to accept my mediocre job. It did strengthen my faith life, though, and it really made me realize that even though this was awful and terrifying, Jesus appreciated it, and that's all that should really matter.

I've bene finding recently that I can relate my absolute favorite St. Josemaria Escriva quote to just about every problem I have in life. "Why stoop to drink from the puddles of worldy consolations when you can satisfy your thirst with waters that spring up into life everlasting?" I guess in this case, it didn't really matter that I was completely overcome with fear because, in the end, I was honoring the Blessed Mother. I was leading prayer that she interceded in. Now, I don't know about y'all, but that's just about the coolest realization I've had all month.

Super Awesome and Life-Changing Location #2: St Paul's University Catholic Center
After months of waiting and many masses attended, RCIA has finally begun. Despite the should-be-apparent awesomeness, I was a wreck on Sunday afternoon. I think I was talking to Michelle and Alanna, though I could be wrong, and they helped. Again, though, it's totally out of my element. If I had had just ONE person there with me that I knew (Danny...), I would have been fine. Instead, though, I was alone. In a group specifically targeted for adults, I would forever be looked upon as the one who couldn't vote or buy cigarettes. Almost grudgingly, I left for Mass, dreading the class that would follow.

Sometimes, I feel like God is giving me a giant slap in the back of the head. Mass was wonderful, like mass always is. I don't know why I possibly forget that. It makes everything better--stress disappears and I become calm again (and I don't even receive the Eucharist yet! I can't even imagine how perfect it will all feel once that time comes). I seriously wish I lived on campus, because I would go to daily mass. I've lived my whole life without knowing this perfect feeling, and now I can't get enough. The downside, however, is that I am still dependent on it, and I get incredibly stressed if a week goes by and I don't get my mass in. This week, though, it was wonderful. After mass ended and I offered up a quick prayer asking God to not let me vomit in front of all these hip college kids, I went to the library where the class was held.

Immediately I was greeted by someone named Lindsey, and she was very nice, very outgoing, very willing to keep a conversation going. And plus, she didn't judge me for being young, she thought it was cool. So hey! I didn't get horribly judged like I expected. The rest of the class went well. Unfortunately, we did more discussing what the class structure will look like and what we'll need than learning, so that was a bummer. The highlight of the class? Father Sternberg. He is such a strange and goofy man, and he can talk for hours. He talks about random but awesome things (a nerf gun battle was included in this week's homily), but he also cares a lot about people and their relationships with God. It's going to be awesome letting him help me get closer to God, and hopefully if I go to Madison next year he can continue to do that for many years to come!


Basically, my life is going very well right now. I have many people praying for me, and I'm returning the favor. But LITs, my math homework won't finish itself, so I must go. Love you all, praying for you all.

It's been real.
Taylor

In My Hands

I was confirmed in the Catholic Church last year (Woot Woot!) so I can now be a Eucharistic Minister.  Do you guys even realize the awesomeness involved in that statement?  I get to hold the body and blood of Christ in my hands and share it with other people.  I just got home from church, where I got to say "This is the blood of Christ."  I watched as people drank, and it was like a bunch of tiny little miracles were happening right in front of me.  Each Sunday after Taylor attends a Catholic mass at St. Paul's, she tells me how badly she just wants to receive Him, and how hard it is not to just go up with everyone else and consume the body and blood.  It's so crazy to hear her say that.  Here is someone who so badly wants that new form of the Holy Spirit within her that she aches with that need.  It's pretty incredible, and I love her because of it.  (There might be some other reasons why I love you, Tay, but I'll leave it at that for now.  We don't want you getting a big head or anything.  I mean, I'm already talking about you in my blog post.  I think that's enough ego boosting for one day.)

So, of course this gets me thinking.  I received my First Communion in first grade.  While in grade school, I went to mass every Thursday, and every Sunday with my family.  While in high school, I've continued to go every Sunday, with the occasional Ash Wednesday or Good Friday mass, and of course Christmas Eve.  That's a whole lot of Jesus!  I can't even fathom it-how much love I've been consuming without even understanding, or appreciating.  Ever since I met you guys, I've gone to mass with a completely different outlook.  I just picture Kenny in my head, bouncing around at the front of St. Francis Chapel, pointing and giggling and saying "That's Jesus, you guys!"

I could write about this forever, but I seriously need to get some homework done.  (I guess the 160 pages of Great Expectations are not going to read themselves...)  And I should apply to college.  And make a bunch of awesome art for my portfolio, so I can actually get into college.  And...well...a whole bunch of other crap.

(insert creative sign-off slogan here)
Alanna

Chattin' With the Pope

In case God hasn't made it clear enough that what we learned a few months ago is what we're meant to do, this is an excerpt from the homily delivered by Pope Benedict XVI today in Scotland. We're not Scottish, but it still applies. I enjoyed, and I expect you will too:

"Finally, I would like to say a word to you, my dear young Catholics of Scotland. I urge you to lead lives worthy of our Lord (cf. Eph 4:1) and of yourselves. There are many temptations placed before you every day – drugs, money, sex, pornography, alcohol – which the world tells you will bring you happiness, yet these things are destructive and divisive.

There is only one thing which lasts: the love of Jesus Christ personally for each one of you. Search for him, know him and love him, and he will set you free from slavery to the glittering but superficial existence frequently proposed by today’s society. Put aside what is worthless and learn of your own dignity as children of God. In today’s Gospel, Jesus asks us to pray for vocations: I pray that many of you will know and love Jesus Christ and, through that encounter, will dedicate yourselves completely to God, especially those of you who are called to the priesthood and religious life. This is the challenge the Lord gives to you today: the Church now belongs to you!"


Holler. I'm praying for you, LITs. Love you all, talk to you soon. It's been real.
Taylor

"Let us always meet each other with a smile, for a smile is the beginning of love."

The title quote is from Mother Teresa, if you didn't already know. I pray that I could have anywhere near the beautiful, caring, and passionate faith life that she had.

I wish I could put into words how overwhelming God's love is. I want to be best friends with Christ. I want Mary to pull me in and tell me she's praying for me. Faith humbles me--at Mass yesterday Father Sternberg delivered one of the most beautiful homilies I've ever heard. I won't go into too much detail, but it was perfect. He said that if he could, he would kneel for the entire Mass because he wants to belittle himself as much as possible for God. That is exactly how I feel. I am at my happiest when I let everything out to God. When I make myself smaller, Christ becomes larger and he wraps his arms around me and opens me to the peace and love that he has been giving me all along. I feel like such a child in my faith. I am in love with Christ--he is all I see all the time, you guys. With everything I do, he is with me. With everything I do, I want to show his beautiful, passionate, undying love for us as his children.

I have been helping out a lot in the Special Education department at our school. I've been eating lunch and helping out at the gym class of a few of the students, and they are so beautiful. I can't even begin to express the gratitude I've felt to God for bringing them to me. They shine, all the time. With the beauty of God, whether they've been completely introduced to his presence or not. Many of their families lack in strong faiths, so they don't know much. Despite that fact, they show me his beauty more than anyone I've ever met. Every day, I am more and more assured that this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I want to help these children, and hopefully even help them grow closer to God. I do realize that I am being selfish, though. I love working with them because it brings me closer to God--their smiles, their laughter, their joy-filled hugs--that's Christ working, you guys. That's my savior telling me that this is how people are meant to live. For some of these kids, their love is all they have to give--but what more do they need? They have an advantage over the rest of us--nothing gets in their way of showing their love (and, in turn, showing God's love for us).

I am so grateful that God has brought me to these kids. I am so grateful that even in school--which can often be a place where strong faith is looked down upon--I can have a few constant reminders of God's love and glory. Find that wherever you are, LITs (and, perhaps, Jenna and Renata and Bill, and whoever else may have stumbled upon this post). I promise, nothing else will matter. When you find God showing his love to you, the whole world will seem unimportant. All negative thoughts will fade away, and his love will be your mission.

I'm praying for you.
Taylor

IN ADDITION: I apologize that I always sound like a greeting card. I don't try to, but my posts always seem so corny and lame in comparison to Alanna's witty posts or Michelle's passionate posts. It sounds good in my head, and when I initially post things, I feel good about them... but when I read once more, I realize that it totally looks like I'm trying to be deep, when clearly I do not have the capacity to do that. Alanna says she enjoys it, but I think she's just being nice so that we can stay friends. Apparently, even though I clearly sound like an overused, unpopular wannabe motivational speaker, told me that "you're way less creepy, and I believe you, cause you're not getting paid." Which works for me, I suppose. So folks, sorry for being a post hog and I hope that you can forgive my lame diction and dried up phrasing. It's been real.

Be Thou My (True) Vision

Last weekend, I had the incredible opportunity to go to mass with some of you.  It was already an amazing experience because I got to share it with some of the coolest people on the planet, but then...then I had a moment.  We are kneeling in the gorgeous church in Waunakee, praising GOD (which is mind blowing enough), when all of a sudden I hear the first few notes of Be Thou My Vision come tinkling out of the piano.  My jaw dropped.  I admit it.  I mean, how perfect?  I got this tingly feeling all over as I remembered how it felt to sing this song in St. Francis chapel with all of you sitting beside me. 

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light

I looked around, and I know I saw this incredulous look on several of your faces.  Thanks for sharing in that awesome moment with me.

While looking at college campus ministry websites this week, I stumbled upon this article.
More Teens Becoming "Fake" Christians
When I read this, all of you came to mind.  I mean, I know my faith isn't fake.  The article talks about teens who choose God because it makes them feel good about themselves, but not because they truly have faith.  Yes, the love God shows us can feel SO good.  Why shouldn't we be grateful and receive it?

However, there are sometimes when the fact that God never stops loving us really hurts.  Like when we hurt him by turning away, ignoring, not listening, not looking, not seeing, not acting, and not loving.  I know those times.  They suck, because all you can think about is how alone you are, and how no one loves you.  But in the back of your mind, and in the deepest part of your heart, you know that God loves you, even though you've done everything you can to hurt him.

It's getting through those times that really test your faith.  It is loving God through the good and the bad, not only embracing him and the church when times good, but looking to Him for guidance and trusting in Him when it looks like nothing could ever be right again.

I know we've all been through a lot of crap.  And so, I know that none of you fit under the "fake christian" category either.  We are all saying "Be thou MY vision, o Lord of MY heart"  Not yours.  Or theirs.  Or his.  or hers.  MY.   He is my best thought, when I'm ridiculously happy, and when I feel so incredibly sad and alone.  His presence is my light.  Its like...daylight.  When the sun is shining, the true colors of the world are out in the open for everyone to see.  Its not like a dim fluorescent bulb that makes everyone look sickly.  So, to wrap things up, I just want to say that I'm so excited for all of us: that we've found something so real in all of our lives.

(Seriously.  I need to come up with some cool way to sign my name, so I don't forget and Taylor doesn't have to remind me.  Suggestions?)

Alanna!

Love Your Enemies--Except Jenna Keller

It's Taylor. I'm sitting at Starbucks with Jenna Keller. THE Jenna Keller. She recently showed me a blog about a college student's perspective of his professor, and it was hilarious. You can find it here, if you'd like. Anyway, it made me want to do the same thing. Except about Jenna, because she is a psycho woman and she procrastinates on everything, and it is really entertaining. We've been sitting here for two hours, and she has yet to finish (or start) her presentation on Mary that's tomorrow. I told her that I want to write a blog about the shenanigans she's getting herself into, and she laughed. I'm fairly sure that she's trying to spice up her actions so that they're funnier and so that I blog about them. Silly Jenna, I'm on to you. She made fun of our blog a few minutes ago. Said the layout was boring and we needed to spice things up. Well, Jenna Keller, at least we write blogs. You can't say the same. Currently she's talking to a girl who was an LIT last year that she recognized, but was unsure if she recognized her. When said girl walked into Starbucks, she leaned in close and whispered, "I know her!" and quickly pulled up her Facebook page. She stole the computer and hid behind it because she's afraid of confrontation. The girl just said that her classes all start with "Kuh" sounds. I'm confused. Now Jenna's giggling about something involving Calculus, but I don't know what it means. Oh gosh, I have to go to the bathroom again. I've gone three times already, and I'm pretty sure the baristas think I have a kidney problem. I've had both a venti iced white chocolate mocha and a grande caramel iced white mocha. They were both delicious, and the caramel mocha was half price. I forgot to get a treat receipt at first though, which was unfortunate, but Jenna convinced me to show the barista my drink (ice not even melted) and ask them for one. It worked. I just stole a sip of her pumpkin spice frap, and it was delicious. She didn't see. Score! She's not talking to me anymore, so I'm trying to look like I have friends by writing here. They're talking about St. Paul's--hey! I go there! She's pretending to write in a notebook, but she's not actually doing any work. What a gal. Oh, the girl left. I have her all to myself again. She's making strange faces when she writes things down. A red string (presumably from her red Wisconsin shirt) is hanging from her nose. I help her out on that one. She's asking me to help her, but I'm giving her bad answers. It's keeping her from her work, which makes me laugh. She's blaming me for not getting any work done, whatever. It's my fault she's horrible unproductive, apparently. She's not doing anything fun. Oh wait... never mind. She's licking the foam off the sides of her coffee mug, even though her drink is nowhere near finished. Earlier, she tipped her drink (her first drink) upside down and extended her tongue in an extremely flattering way in order to get the remainder of foam from the bottom. I just asked her if she's getting any work done and she called me a creep. Looks like she's onto me. I just told her I love people and she told me they don't love me. Ouch, Jenna Keller. Ouch. Well you're sitting in the corner by yourself trying (and failing) to write a lesson plan about Mary. Fourth bathroom break. She just looked at what I wrote. I so can't trust her. The bathroom looks like a place you'd store your kidnapped victim, by the way. It's small with no windows, but enough room to store a mattress (and it has a toilet for excrement). She is looking at me with a very sassy tone. I want to yank her by the ear. She called me angry. Darn right I'm angry, you looked at my blog, Jenna Keller. Darn right I'm pounding away at those keys, Jenna Keller. Darn right I have a fighting smirk on my face, Jenna Keller. Her Wisconsin shirt is weird and wrinkly. She didn't even remember there was a Badger game today until she came downtown and saw all the people wearing red. She had to grab an old red T-shirt from the floor of her car. It's probs dirty. She's looking at me with a sassy look on her face and trying not to laugh. She's so not tough. She said she's flattered I'm writing about her, but she totes shouldn't be. Because she's lame and weird and she doesn't even do her lesson plans. Stop laughing at me ad calling me creepy, Jenna Keller. I think when she googles her name, this post will come up because I'm using her name so much. JENNA KELLER YOU ARE A TERRIBLE PERSON. She just called Glenna her favorite. She keeps a letter from Glenna in her Bible, but she left my letter "in a box somewhere." She just opened up her Bible and read about loving her enemies. Clever, Jenna Keller. She's mumbling about how she's trying to be holier and take the high road. Whatev, Jenna Keller. We both know you're still rude to me. She continues to write things down as if she's doing something important, but I believe we can all agree on the fact that she's not. I have to go now. I live with my parents, and they expect me home soon. Jenna probably has to go too, since she lives at home too. Even though she's like 30 years old. She still has to check in with mommy and be home for dinner. Nice. Well, LITs, I love all of you--and maybe I like her too. But let's not get carried away.

God Bless. Praying for all of you.
Taylor

The Power of Prayer

Hey all,

Firstly, let me say how much I have missed you all over these past few weeks. Unfortunately you can't just hit pause on life and do what you want all the time (though I wish we could).

Now I know the title of this piece isn't exactly original, but over the past few weeks, I've really begun to see just how big of an impact prayer can have. I've never doubted that praying can help, but I never expected just how much it can help.

I write this piece not just to share my own experiences these past few weeks, but to encourage all of us to pray constantly for ourselves and for each other, especially with things like school, sports, college, and life in general looming ahead. With God's help, we can make it through these trials, as long as we keep our eyes on the big picture, that everything we go through is designed to bring us closer to God. If you look at things that way, many of your not so great moments in life can lead to some of your greatest moments later.

But I'm starting to go off on a bit of a tangent here. Prayer, our 24/7 direct line to God. I'd like to share a story with you about how much praying has really helped me these past few weeks in making it through the trials of everyday life.

Firstly, as you all know, Taylor and I have decided to become Catholic. When we both made this decision (completely seperately at the same time. How cool is that?!?), I knew my parents wouldn't be jumping for joy, but I didn't expect the amount of resistance I have encountered either. At first they just took it in, didn't say too much about it, just kind of let me be in my new decision. However, a week or two later, we, meaning my mom and myself, had quite the argument with dad trying to mediate.

It was after my first mass at St. Paul's in Madison. I was meeting up with Taylor, and my parents asked if they could come along. I was thrilled! My parents were showing an interest in my new faith. Well the mass was beautiful, I've never felt more peaceful and complete at any other church service except for mass at Camp Gray. As soon as we were in the car heading home though, everything went South. My mom started tearing in to the mass, and the Catholic Church in general, saying many unkind things about it (one of those things including "cult-like" if you all remember our little board of things others call Christians). She even went so far as to say that she now sometimes wished I had never gone to camp. I wanted to fight, I wanted to scream and yell at her, but instead I just sat there. Something inside me told me to stay silent, and to listen instead of argue. By the time we got home, my parents had decided that I could still go to mass, however, they wished for me to wait a year before joining the Catholic Church. This was a major blow at first, but later that night as I was praying, I realized this was just a test of my faith. Could I wait the year and keep my desire to be Catholic burning bright inside of me? The answer is yes, I don't care how long it takes, whether it be one year, or 100, I will never lose my desire to join the Catholic Church. Because this desire isn't just a desire for my self wants, it's a desire to be closer to God, and nothing will strip me of that desire.

Still, I wasn't exactly happy with my parents and I prayed and prayed that something good would come out of there decision. Well, that very next sunday, I went to mass, God answered my prayers. It was the feast day of St. Mary, and the homily was all about how great our blessed mother is. On my way home that evening, I realized something. I couldn't stay mad at my parents. True, they had kept me from going in the direction I wanted to go in my faith, but they were only doing it because they loved me and wanted to make sure I was 100 percent in my decision. I was so touched by this, that all of my anger at them melted away, and I was saddened by how much anger I had held towards them just for loving me. After I got home, I told my mom that I loved her, and that I understood why she and my dad had wanted me to wait the year before joining the Catholic Church. She started crying and apologized over and over about how she had acted after mass the previous sunday. She then told me that if at the end of the year, I still wanted to join the church, she would support my decision completely.

Now there are three big prayers I made during the time this story took place. The first: that I could continue to go to mass at St. Paul's. The second: that God would make it known that I was still following his path after my parents asked me to wait the year. And the final prayer: that my parents would eventually support me in my decision to become Catholic. Well, all three prayers were answered. Perhaps not in the easiest, or most non-conflict based way, but they were answered and God continues to answer my prayers as he does for all of us. You just have to remember that bad things happen, and that through them, you can grow closer to God.

I hope this message finds you all in great places in your lives, and know that I will be praying for you all in the upcoming months.

God's peace and love
Dan(ny)

What would you do if you were not afraid?

I recently bought the Catechism of the Catholic Church. When I was confirmed, I feel like I said, “Hey, yea, I’m Catholic.” Now, I actually want to be Catholic. Is there a difference? Does that make sense? I don’t know if I’m ready. I can barely tell someone who makes me nervous what my favorite color is. But I really want to be ready. I want to be sure. I want this one thing in my life to make sense and to always be there for me.

I suppose that’s the key to this whole mess; abandonment. I’m good at feeling abandoned. It's ridiculous, of course, because its not like I’ve ever been left alone on a street corner or anything. Maybe it hurts because all of these people are right here in front of me, and I still feel no connection?

First, I’ve always been the third wheel. Mom and Dad, Brianna and Peter…and Alanna. Friend 1, Friend 2…and Alanna. Then, Brianna leaves for college. Then she gets married. Then she moves to Arizona. (Okay, so maybe its not just abandonment. Jealousy too?) Then last year’s friend debacle. Now there go my real friends, off to Madison, River Falls, Colorado, and California. There they go, off to begin their lives. There go the people that made me feel alive last year, when everything else sucked the joy right out of me.

I’m so afraid of my senior year, and how much it will suck without them. What will band competitions be like? Who will I cheer on our terrible football team with? Who will screw around during study hall with me? Who will call me up randomly and invite me to go sledding like we’re 8 years old again? Who will smile at me in the hallway and make my day just okay enough to bear? Who will I go crazy for in the crowd when they make their only baskets of the entire basketball season? Who will be completely obsessed and addicted to lemon drops with me? Who will analyze movies with me? Who will send me the most ridiculous YouTube videos to distract me from my homework? Who is going to be there? Who, who, who?

I just read a book called Jump by Elisa Carbone. It’s not about God, but one of the main characters is very philosophical, if not spiritual. He asks this question of himself and the other main character: “What would you do if you were not afraid?” Just last week, I went cliff jumping. Its probably one of the scariest things I’ve ever done in my life. I honestly wasn’t scared, right up until I was standing on the edge of that cliff, looking at the murky water, contemplating what could happen if things go wrong. This type of thinking was another scenario in the book. The main female character free climbs on a part of rock that is extremely dangerous. She doesn’t realize what could have happened until after she has come to a safer point on the rock, but then the realization of all the possible situations and their horrific outcomes paralyzes her with fear. I know that I have this same problem. I blame an overactive imagination.

My friend stood at the edge and counted to herself before jumping on “three.” I, on the other hand, went up to the edge, freaked out, turned around, took some deep breaths, said “I’m going to make myself do this!” and then in one swift motion, I turned towards the water and threw myself off the edge. It’s crazy, because now I really can compare everything in my life to jumping off that cliff.

So this picture is me, after I jumped. The water was disgusting.  I swallowed a lot of it.  

This is the cliff.  Do not be fooled.  It is higher than it looks.

However, there is another ironic aspect of this experience. My mother totally doesn’t know, because she totally wouldn’t approve. (I tried earlier in the summer. Let’s just say that little escapade was shot down in an instant.) Yes, I lied about where I was. But not about whom I was with! And technically, we did go swimming. I know, I know, lying is a sin. I sinned, and it totally sucks. I hate that I can’t trust my mother to understand my need for adventure, and I hate that I have to suffer because of the things she is afraid of, and I hate even more that this is what I decided to do. I had this incredible experience, and I wish it could just be this crazy youthful adventure that I could share with the world, but instead, it’s a secret because of how I went about doing it. I’m trusting you guys with this. Don’t tell my mom.

So, basically, I’m telling you that some of these awesome things in life are not everything that they seem. You can love God, but you cannot keep it a secret. It doesn’t work that way! It has to pour out of every part of your being. People should see His love in your eyes. They should hear it in your words. It should be felt in your touch. Everywhere you go, you should leave traces of God’s love, like Hansel and Gretel and their breadcrumbs in the forest. I’ve realized this is what I should be like. I’ve also realized I’m so far from living. Who’s willing to try it with me?

Yes, I love God. Yes, I want to be Catholic. But how ready am I to commit? I’m really working on it. I bought the Catechism, and I opened it to the prologue. But this thing talks about a man’s purpose. A man was created in the likeness of God. A man, a man, a MAN. Maybe I’m being too literal. I’m generally good at thinking abstractly, but with this, I just want to words to lead me directly to something real. And if I’m only reading about a man, than how can I find something real?

Right now, I feel suffocated in Portage. I have to lie to live my life, and everything is so messed up and wrong. I fake who I am to get along with friends, and nothing is real. I go through the motions, and I daydream about what it could be. It’s so scary to think about where I’m going to go to college. So scary, and so exciting, because it already means so much to me. I need to have a connection to this place, and to the people. I need to learn to accept that God does love me. I need to learn to love myself. How else can I begin to pour out that love on other people?

So.  My answer to the question "What would you do if you were not afraid?"  So many things!  I would have told him.  I wouldn't have anything to regret.  I wouldn't have so much hate, but a million times as much love.  I wouldn't be bored.  I would tell EVERYONE.  I wouldn't hesitate.  I would go there.  I would, I would, I would.  What would you do?