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!