tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2731806796416355162024-03-05T03:53:56.861-08:00Threshold to HappinessCurrently 24 years old, still a girl trying to figure out how to live authentically amidst the hustle and bustle of life. Living a life of mission out in the secular working world. I have a passion for my Catholic faith and hope to set the world ablaze with the love of Jesus Christ.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-59936887140511977092017-04-26T08:05:00.001-07:002017-04-26T08:06:31.865-07:00Joy Comes In the MorningI found myself sitting around, baking in the beautiful afternoon sun in our garden for an Easter Brunch when a friend asked me, “What have you been doing with your art lately?” I hesitated. I didn’t have an answer ready for that question. Rather, the answer was simply, “Zero. Zilch. Nada.”<br />
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I had given up Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, all social media in hopes of replacing the time wasted with pursuit of things I love most. Instead of feeding my creativity, I found myself devoid of any inspiration. My sketchbooks left in their place on the shelf. My phone filled up with note after note in my saved drafts; thoughts sparked and observations noted, only to be forgotten. Ideas to be partially realized and then left to collect dust in the recesses of my mind. I wished to fill my time refocusing and finding myself presently. Instead when I looked, it felt as if presently I lost sight of my little dreams and aspirations.<br />
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Yes, to be fair to myself, I’ve been working, and I’ve got a few commitments that eat away at the precious hours I get between work and sleep, and I do hope to eat and shower on occasion. But what was my drive beyond mere compulsion of keeping on? What was I getting up for each morning? I felt listless.<br />
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The Lenten season brought about great fruits of understanding discipline and responsibility in my life. <i>The drudgery of existence is hard. </i>Not in the emo-middle school phase, but just in the day in and day out toil of doing the damn thing. But with that learning, it’s that scale of life that seems to tip this way and that but seems difficult to balance it in the middle. I’ve noticed as well as these good fruits I received, I began to recognize the pitfalls of myself, namely my confusion of <i>complacency and contentedness</i>. I find myself acutely aware of just how afraid I am of what God spoke into my heart just a week before Lent began: <i><b>PROVISION</b></i>. The word clearly written on my heart<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">—</span>caps lock, bold, and italics included. Instead, I hid behind excuses that what I was doing was “good enough” and “where He wants me,” failing to actually allow room for God to continue to speak into what He wished to provide in my life. He said again, “But wait, you of such little faith, I have so much more that awaits you than what you’ve tasted.”<br />
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And with that, I remember just how much that God has told me of His title as Provider. Not only was it clearly spoken to me now, but He let these words hit my heart so deeply that I made a decision to have a tattoo based on it. And here I am, awaiting my second tattoo on this same theme again this summer, which I felt calling to me so clearly in Matthew, chapter 6:<br />
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“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown in the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?”</blockquote>
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I failed to see the way in which God creates, and the imagination of the Creator with something so simple as a wildflower, forgotten a moment after its noticed. Just because I cannot sit to stare at each gallardia, bluebonnet, and every other wildflower sitting outside my window doesn’t mean that God hasn’t taken the time to do just that. Just because my life is little doesn’t mean it goes unnoticed or it’s worth conceding to mediocrity. <i>How have I been able to believe then that my life is made to be any less than a vibrant, unique, and unforgettable adventure?</i><br />
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And that was where the light pierced through and the veil was lifted. I felt close to the apostles, unable to believe when others told them that Jesus was no longer in the tomb. I realized my blindness to the truth that is Christ's unrelenting promise of a life worth living. I sat sulking in the upper room of my mind, failing to notice Him breaking the bread with me. I failed to notice Him walking along side me on a dusty road to Emmaus. But with open eyes to these truths this Easter season, my hands found freedom<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">—</span>freedom to bask in the beauty of their Creator and attempting by any means possible to partake in the riches of His imagination.<br />
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So the answer is “Nothing." I didn’t do anything this Lenten season when it came to my expectations to pursue the beauty of the Lord. But as Psalm 30 reminded me constantly during Lent and then again as Easter entered in and the world was re-illuminated, “Weeping may tarry for the night, <i>but joy comes with the morning."</i><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-50589436804261189832016-06-09T20:18:00.000-07:002016-06-10T13:52:09.680-07:00Refusing the LieWhat's the lie that you believe?<br />
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When you're by yourself, in the shower, your car, about to go to bed, what lie creeps into your mind? What words do you hear yourself repeating that continue to tear you down?<br />
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"You will never experience sisterhood."<br />
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I stood in my shower this evening, scrubbing my conditioner into my scalp, feeling the scalding water bead down my back. As the water washed over me, the lies continued to wash over me in waves as well.<br />
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"God didn't give you a sister as a child because you weren't created for sisterhood."<br />
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"You live by yourself because you don't deserve to experience life lived with other women."<br />
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"You won't ever experience the deep relationships of sisterhood."<br />
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"The relationships you have with other women are not made to last. They do not stand firm."<br />
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"If you have daughters, you will fail them as a mother because of this."<br />
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If I'm telling the truth, these lies have been inside of me for a long time. Eating away at me, forcing me to pull back in relationships with other women, scaring me into silence when I angry, or frustrated, or hurt, or alone. I have sat in my bedroom, with a wall between myself and my best friend, and suffered through a panic attack because of these lies. I have sat in my current bedroom, with a phone call between myself and my best friend, and suffered through a panic attack because of these lies.<br />
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The devil has spoken these lies for so long. He had me believing the words spoken were from my own mouth. He is so well practiced in deception. He has listened to the words I have whispered to myself and began to mimic my voice so well that I could not hear the difference.<br />
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But there was a crack in his voice tonight. He let it slip that it was not me that was speaking these words, but rather he.<br />
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And another Voice told me to speak my own words. With Encouragement, I fought back.<br />
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I spoke over and over again aloud, "I refuse to believe this lie. I refuse to believe this lie. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS LIE."<br />
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And suddenly I found my voice amidst a screaming choir of voices, a cacophony of noises telling me that it was true. I found freedom in truth. I found freedom instead of slavery to lies that had robbed me of joy. Instead of experiencing moments of bonding with sister, I had allowed myself to experience bondage to lies so intricately woven around my heart.<br />
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I took a step towards the Father and asked him for freedom. He whispered kind words, soothing words as He delicately unraveled the bonds woven so tightly. The cords cut deep. My flesh sears as the reality of these wounds sets in. So now here comes the choice given.<br />
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Do I take back the cord laying between myself and the Father? Do I wrap it back around these wounds, staunch the bleeding, and allow it to continue to cut deeper?<br />
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Or do I allow Him to enter in? Do I allow him to dress the wounds, continue to rewrap new bandages as the old ones grow full from my weeping wounds?<br />
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I'll leave you with a verse that seems to resonate deeply with me as I begin a journey of healing, with much hesitation and fear of what lies ahead:<br />
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For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, “Abba, Father!”<br />
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<i>Romans 8:15 </i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Courtesy of: <a href="http://www.redbubble.com/shop/bumble+and+bristle" target="_blank">Bumble and Bristle</a></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-10987201431773574602016-01-13T17:34:00.001-08:002016-06-10T13:52:27.136-07:00The Virtue of WaitingIt has been a looooong time since I've been on this blog. So if you've been waiting for a new post, thanks for your patience. If not, thanks for your patience while you read this post. In fact, with the worst segue I could ever make, I'll let you know that's actually what I'll be talking about today: patience.<br />
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Often, I find myself repeating the classic adage, "Patience is a virtue," typically in jest to my niece when she cannot wait for cookies to cool down or a friend when we're complaining about waiting for a new album to be released. I find myself constantly throwing around this proverbial phrase without thinking about it. And today, among thinking of other things, I realized it's something I need to remind myself of more often.</div>
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You see, today was my day off from work. And for once, my day off from work coincided with a day without plans. Ah, freedom. There were so many possibilities of what I could spend my day doing. Do I sit in bed and spend the next seven hours finishing <i>Making a Murderer</i> on Netflix? Do I begin to pack up my room for moving? And then I saw my sweet little coloring book that I had been waiting to sit down and spend time with.</div>
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Last summer, as I spent the afternoon catching up with my friend, Rebecca, I found myself mesmerized by the whimsical pages of Johanna Basford's coloring book that she was working on while we spoke. The pages were intricate and reminded me of my own imagination as a child fueled by faeries and lost gardens. I had asked for one of her coloring books for Christmas. To my surprise, two of my favorite people gave me her books!<br />
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Between working, spending time with family, and traveling across Texas, I hadn't found time since Christmas to sit down and work on even a single page. The thing was, I wanted to really carve out a couple hours to get lost inside the pages. Today, I finally found that time. I thought to myself as I sat down outside with a cup of coffee in one hand and my colored pencils in the other, "Patience is a virtue." I also thought to myself, that this three weeks of waiting (however unconsciously) obviously indicated it was a virtue mastered. Check that box, collect $200 at "GO" and take two steps towards sainthood.</div>
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As I began the tedious job of coloring the first page, I found myself growing anxious to finish and move on. I wanted to devour the entire book, or at the least the first few pages, in a matter of hours. But at the same time, I desired to make this page a piece of art, able to stand on its own. I knew I would regret rushing through it. I kept repeating to myself, "No rush, no rush, no rush." Slowly but surely, the anxiety to finish it all today began to dissipate. In its place, I found myself enjoying the details of the page I was on. I was able to better admire the small bee I found in the upper left corner. I noticed the repetition of particular flowers throughout the piece and was able to distribute the colors on the page in a way that made each flower seem that while it did belong on the page, it was also its own unique creation. After spending nearly four hours on the page, I found myself finished with page one.</div>
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And with all of this, I realized how desperately I needed to grow in patience. How often do I desire to possess what I want immediately? How often do I find myself desperate to consume all that is before me without enjoying the small moments that come in taking life a little at a time?</div>
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Last January, I found myself in the final month of my dating fast. I remember reflecting and praying and realizing that what I had learned most from that year was that my life was to be lived on a day by day basis. No rush, no rush, no rush. I found myself in no hurry to reach February or even tomorrow. I found myself happy to be. So here I am again in January, desperate to move back to San Marcos, desperate to find a big girl job and get on with my life. Anxiety attacking me from all sides to look at my life and judge myself for not being there quite yet. And I look at the language I use. <i>Get on with my life.</i> Well, what am I doing right now? What am I getting on from-- non-living? How is my life not being lived currently? It is. Maybe I'm not where I'd like to be a month from now, six months from now, a year from now, but I'm where I need to be. I'm here, growing in the virtue of waiting. I'm here, coloring my life, page by page, day by day. And in that, I'm hoping that I find myself inching closer towards sainthood instead of rushing to reach the last page.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0AB9aF5DyuaKf4zABra8qAA5oBulFgVcAOcEstL-HSl6A4cY9DQjwpL1hFB3g8SieoyPVyDFOzKEqGORQ-gRmUD9NXnMERmAjTGbKsL_fM-SHyLvzWENeV62xivuLRBy6QxTEdmKs7I/s1600/secretgarden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="og:image" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0AB9aF5DyuaKf4zABra8qAA5oBulFgVcAOcEstL-HSl6A4cY9DQjwpL1hFB3g8SieoyPVyDFOzKEqGORQ-gRmUD9NXnMERmAjTGbKsL_fM-SHyLvzWENeV62xivuLRBy6QxTEdmKs7I/s400/secretgarden.jpg" title="og:image" width="370" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Four hours and a million colored pencils later, I find myself excited to find another moment in the future to tackle the next page.</span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-46096748840828240902015-11-19T18:18:00.001-08:002016-06-10T13:52:38.651-07:00The Measuring Stick of SuccessSomeone I know recently asked: How do you measure success?<br />
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One person suggested that they would see themselves as successful when they were featured on <i>Ellen</i>. I found several other people suggesting that success came with happiness.<br />
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After this week, I'm not so sure that I would fit my definition in either one of those categories when it comes to success.<br />
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Looking into my life from the outside, I am by no accounts successful. I am working a seasonal job at Target. I live with my parents. Yep, I just put that out there and I hate it. It makes me grit my teeth to admit where I am in my life right now. It has left me in a period where I have had to make strides to overcome self-pity along with self-hate. I have had to make strides to see that this point in my life is not a measure of my success.<br />
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So here I am again, walking my parent's dog and asking myself: How do I measure success?<br />
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<i>Ellen</i>? Happiness? Fulfillment?<br />
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Well, to measure something means that it needs quantitative data, right? I need tangible information, stuff that can be written down. Maybe some numbers.<br />
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I look at my resume to see what I can gather. Nearly college graduate, very little job experience, but she has a great GPA. I need more. Well, how much money do I make? <i>Not much.</i> How many friends do I have? <i>Many. </i>How many job applications have I put out there in the last six months? <i>More than I can count.</i><br />
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To a certain extent, I have been trained to view my measure of success in correlation to my value. What are my numbers? What's the equation? What am I worth?<br />
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New question: How do I measure <i>myself</i>?<br />
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The numbers weren't working out so let's head back towards qualitative data— the descriptors. And this is where I find many people take out the classic measuring stick of <i>happiness</i>. Ah, happiness.. A warm, fuzzy feeling. But this is what I learned when I watched <i>Inside Out</i> this week on my day off: Happiness is a feeling.. Along with sadness, anger, disgust, and fear. It's fleeting. It's not meant to take a front seat. It's not meant to be our primary mode. I cannot expect to always be happy, and I don't. I cannot expect a feeling to drive my life. I cannot use a feeling to measure my value.<br />
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So should I put another word in the place of happiness? Perhaps, <i>fulfillment</i>? But this is another word I've got some beef with measuring my life around. I am always going to want <i>more</i>. I am always going to wish I was: smarter, neater, prettier, <i>better</i>. There won't ever be a point where I reach a point and say, "I'm done. That's it. I've made it." Because the truth is <i>I can't find that in this world.</i> I won't be able to say that I've made it until I've reached the next life, Paradise. And boy, do I have a long road ahead of me to get there. So nix the word fulfillment on measuring my life.<br />
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So what's it going to be? How do I decide what I'm worth?<br />
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I reach my house by the time I've settled on how to measure myself: gratitude. While I will always find myself desiring more, more from my life, more from myself. I can measure myself by the gratitude I have for the place I find myself in. The truth of my unsuccess is that I have a job. I have a family that still provides for me— not out of obligation, but love. Why do I grit my teeth at where I have found myself? Why can't I concede to the truth and boast about the beauty in it?<br />
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I may not be where I wish to be, but I am currently where I am supposed to be. I may not be doing what I wish to do, but I am currently doing what I am supposed to do.<br />
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I am so grateful to have spent this season learning. Learning to love others, myself, and through all of it, the Lord. My gratitude ultimately finds its way back to Him. He who been the guide through this season of learning. He who has known the whole time what I am worth.<br />
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<i>But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong. </i><i>2 Corinthians 12:9-10</i> </blockquote>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-38890786565248055902015-11-06T13:53:00.002-08:002016-06-10T13:53:15.092-07:00Getting SchooledTwo months ago I began a new job as a receptionist at a preschool. I made the decision to leave my job for reasons I won't get into here. As a receptionist, I didn't expect to work so closely with the students, but I ended up in the classrooms nearly everyday. I didn't expect to become attached to these toddlers and preschoolers, but somehow they managed to worm their way into my hard heart and soften it.<br />
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On Wednesday, I was helping with the private kindergarten class and as I headed back to the front desk, the entire class came up and collectively hugged me. It was like a giant dogpile of four and five years olds near my knees. *cue heart melting* As I was driving to work yesterday, I was reflecting on the impression that has been made on me these couple months working every day with kids. So here's three life lessons learned from working in a preschool:<br />
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<b><i>A bad start to your day doesn't make for a bad ending</i></b><br />
There is always at least one preschooler that is left screaming and crying in the morning when mom drops them off. It makes for a real rough start to the morning, but after some soothing, I crouch down and explain that the day will get better. And things do. The day gets going and they forget that mom left. They become engaged in their activities and forget mom and dad even exist until they're picked up hours later. It's Monday morning, and I wake up late, forget to turn on the coffee maker, and some guy is talking on his phone and driving 25 mph. When everything is going wrong at the start of the day, I can often become bitter and resentful of the rest of my day. But a bad day can be redeemed, but I have to find the good in the day. I have to forget about my bad morning and focus on the present reality and the good in it.<br />
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<i><b>Know when to talk and when to let things go</b></i><br />
Tattle-telling is an epidemic. <i>"He almost hit me with a paper airplane." "She called me stupid."</i> I have had to explain time and time again that unless someone is in danger, scared, in need of protection, or hurt, they're probably tattling. Conflict resolution is a real thing that I often lack in my own life. Do I go and talk to my friend when they've hurt me or do I go and tell another person about the wrong committed against me? I let these things get in the way of friendships. I find myself stewing in petty grievances that should be let go.<br />
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<b><i>You get what you get and you don't throw a fit</i></b><br />
You wanted the blue crayon and you get the green one instead. Tears flow and friendships are seemingly broken for the afternoon over these sorts of things. Similarly, I become put out when my expectations don't meet reality. I have learned though that life is not always going to go the way I planned. I can do one of two things: I can go into my room and pout about it and continue to stew in my misery, or I can look at the cards I've been dealt and see the good that can come out of the life I've been given. It's the old homage of every cloud having its silver lining. I have come to realize that I'm only bringing misery to myself and those around me when I'm being a Debbie Downer about things out of my control instead of bucking up and putting my big girl panties on.<br />
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I realized that many of the things I tell these students daily are things I need to keep working on applying in my own life. It's pretty humbling to realize that a 3 year old has a better attitude than me, but I often need to be knocked down a couple pegs. I have to see the contradiction of my humanity. The biggest question for myself today is this: If I'm 23 and suck at applying these things in my own life, how can I expect a preschooler to listen to me?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-46932854231272284072015-09-24T09:44:00.002-07:002016-06-10T13:53:55.129-07:00Daily VirtueBetween my shifts at work, I drove over to the library yesterday to finish up my paper which I finally had a breakthrough on writing... Only to find that it wasn't open until 1 pm. How frustrating! Well, lucky for me, I found out that there's a Catholic church a couple blocks down with Perpetual Adoration, so<em> thanks be to God</em> for making an even better day out of my Wednesday.<br />
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I went into the chapel and opened up the browser on my phone to <a href="http://blessedisshe.net/devotions/">BlessedIsShe's daily devotion,</a> which all you ladies should check out. The day's reflection was called <a href="http://blessedisshe.net/on-the-journey/" target="_blank">On the Journey</a> based on Luke 9:1-6 and asked, <em>"How is God calling you to proclaim the Kingdom?"</em><br />
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Honestly, this has been a question I have been struggling with myself lately. I have been struggling to find my worth in the Lord when I haven't been able to serve His Kingdom in an intentional ministry. I work a job with crazy hours and find myself with a couple hours in the afternoon to work on school work and then a couple in the evening to try and relax and prepare for my next 4:30 am wake-up call.
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As I was driving home this week, a phrase came to me about what I'm gaining from this semester at home: <strong><em>daily virtue</em></strong>. I am constantly doing the opposite of what I want to do. I <em>do not </em>want to wake up at 4:30 to make it work on time. I <em>do not</em> want to make my bed before I've even had time for coffee. I <em>do not</em> want to pray a Rosary in the morning when I barely have the brain cells to form sentences. I <em>do not</em> want to work on my school work during my break from work.<br />
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More than anything, I <em>do not</em> want to answer this call I have to love others unceasingly. It is<em> so difficult</em> to love my mom when I'm exhausted and dinner isn't ready yet. It is <em>so difficult</em> to love my students' parents when they come to pick them up long day and get frustrated because I have to tell them they have a late fee on their account. It is <em>so difficult</em> to love my friends when I've had a long day and so have they and they call me needing to vent about it and all I want to do is turn my brain off. Sometimes it feels like I am up to my eyeballs in the love I know I need to give to others. I am in a battle with myself to fight this sour attitude I so easily fall into.<br />
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But. BUT.<br />
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Jesus has given me what I need for the journey. He says, <em><strong>"Take nothing for the journey."</strong></em><br />
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He is asking me to trust that He will provide. <em>And he does.</em><br />
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These intangible graces have become something I witness everyday when I chose to love. These abstract concepts turn into actions rooted in love. These monotonous tasks become daily virtues. This is what I need for the journey.<br />
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Christ gives me the graces to give others the benefit of the doubt. I have to understand the parent that was short with me this evening probably had a rough day at work. After 8 hours, this is not what they wanted to deal with. These are my sandals for the journey. He has given me the grace to walk in another person's shoes.<br />
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I am often so tired in the mornings during my prayer time. My Rosary is rough and often marked with yawning throughout it. This Tuesday, I did not want to do my morning Rosary. After much protesting, I began and realized that it was the Sorrowful mysteries. How selfish I realized I can become. Jesus has given me a walking stick to lean on when I grow weary on this journey. He has given me the Cross.<br />
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Jesus has provided me with directions to lead me towards Eternal life. Each day, as I seek Him in prayer and the monotony of life, I grow a little more in virtue. I gain a little more grace. I love a little more and begin to let go of the expectations I hold for how my life is <em>supposed to be</em>. The next turn and stop along the way are given day by day. I have to trust that He's leading me on a journey that is the surest way to Heaven.<br />
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Daily virtue is a struggle to accept. But I have found my worth and value in the small sacrifices I make and graces I gain day by day. My proclamation of the Kingdom right now is not a shout, but a constant whisper of the truth learned through seeking the Extraordinary in my ordinary days. My purpose is simple. My ministry is in the people I am called to love every single day. If I am intentional in loving, then I am answering my call to serve Jesus and proclaim His Kingdom exactly as He called me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Praise the Lord for inspiring me to choose St. Therese of Lisieux as my Confirmation Saint.</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-43607645932885984802015-09-09T12:03:00.000-07:002016-06-10T13:54:08.037-07:00Orienting My HeartWhat I wanted more than anything my junior and senior year of high school was a computer of my own. After a wiped hard drive my sophomore year, I had trust issues with our family computer. I wished to write my papers in the solace of my room without anybody asking me if they could get on to put music on their iPod or check their email. I set about constantly dropping hints to my parents about exactly what I wanted. It was the Daisy Red Ryder BB Gun of my own life, the Apple MacBook. From our conversations, it seemed that my parents were all aboard for me getting it. I told them I was willing to sacrifice Christmas, graduation, my birthday, whatever it took to get exactly what I knew I wanted.<br />
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Christmas morning I shot out of bed, ready to see if my wish had come true. I found a couple of small wrapped presents under the tree and some stocking stuffers, but certainly nothing the size of a MacBook hiding beneath the branches. As William proceeded to open his gifts, I silently rehearsed the reserved and noncommittal tone in which I would receive my Christmas presents. I refused to allow myself to be crushed that I didn't get what I had asked for. After all, it wasn't that my life was in any way lacking or that I was deprived because I didn't get what I asked for.</div>
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I opened my gifts and thanked my parents, still repressing any moodiness I may have been feeling inside. I knew what I was asking for was a lot. I had the freedom to ask, but my parents also had the freedom to say no. My dad looks to my mom and mentions as an afterthought, "Oh, there's one more on the back of the tree." No, they didn't hang my MacBook as an ornament. It was a slip of paper... with a photo of an Apple 13" MacBook Pro and a note telling me we'd be visiting the Apple Store to pick it up in a couple days time. Not only did my parents give to me what I had asked for, they gave me something that better than what I asked for.<br />
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You're probably wondering what the heck this story has to do with myself today. It's not anywhere near Christmas and I'm writing this on the library's computer on my lunch break because my MacBook is at home in my bedroom.</div>
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Looking back on entries from my prayer journal months and years ago, I can clearly see the specific desires that have been set on my heart. In the same way of telling my parents exactly what it was that I wanted for Christmas, I have laid out for the Lord what is on my heart. At one point, I feared that if I told the Lord what it was I wanted, He would say, "Well, that's awesome. Give that all to me. Thanks, now I'm giving you the opposite. You can have a Windows laptop." But Jesus tells us in Luke 11, "What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish? Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? (Or a Windows laptop when she asks for a MacBook?) If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?” If my parents have exceeded my expectations, then how much more can I expect the Lord to hear my desires and give what it is good. That does not mean that He has an obligation to give any of it to me. I constantly remind myself that all is gift. But I can trust that the more I orient myself towards the Lord, the more my desires will align to His own for my life. What I receive may be in pieces and the timing may not be my own, but the gift of the life He has chosen is more than my desires can possibly begin to comprehend.<br />
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Here's a couple more thoughts from some journal entries over the last couple of months on this topic:<br />
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And now, here I am left waiting. For what? Only the Lord can know what is in store, but I can with greater confidence submit myself to small, daily fiats. "Let it be done to me according to Your word." There is so much anticipation in my hear to <em>get this party started</em>, but I know that His timing and will are so much <u>greater</u> than my own.</blockquote>
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The hard part isn't telling Him my desires, but giving Him the power to do what He wills. But doing so has only provided fruit. <em>How much more must He do to prove that He only desires goodness for me?</em> ...How much more do I need to see the love He has for me and the good He wills for my life?</blockquote>
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Will I trust that He will provide for me a <em>hundredfold</em> if I give my desires to Him? ... I think if I knew the whole plan and could see the Lord's itinerary for my life, I would run away. I wouldn't understand, and I couldn't understand. "Know the Lord is God, He made us, we belong to Him, we are his people, the flock he shepherds."</blockquote>
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"Surprised by joy" ... The Lord has willed my life this far. And I'm accepting the joy that comes with the surprise. God has poured out His goodness on me and reassured me over and over that <u>He wills my good</u>-- He desires good for me. And all I can reply with today is: "God, you have been good to me."</blockquote>
I continue to look back on this last year and see how the more I align myself with the Lord, the louder the whisper grows. And as I begin to follow that whisper more and more, I continue to be surprised at the goodness in store for my life. I just want to leave off with a simple prayer that I wrote in January asking for Blessed Mother's help in orienting my heart to Jesus:<br />
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<em>Great, bright Morning Star, guide my ship, point me to the Northern shore, that I may understand where it is He leads me.</em></blockquote>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-45332377727218346482015-08-25T20:58:00.000-07:002015-08-25T21:00:58.847-07:00Wash Your DishesA dear friend of mine had spent the morning deep cleaning. We shared how satisfying it is to do all that work and see just how much progress has been made through our efforts. That feeling of accomplishment and pride brought me back again to the end of today's Gospel in Matthew:<br />
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<i>Blind Pharisee, cleanse first the inside of the cup, so the outside may also be clean.</i></blockquote>
When I wake up in the morning, I make sure that my bed is made and my things are put away. Why? Because it should be an outward side to the interior order of my life. Amidst changing directions with my living and my future and my life, I have been a mess lately. I have been in what seems like fifty different places in a matter of the last month. My cup was full and running over from the love I been given in goodbyes and the peace gained from attending School of the New Evangelization up in St. Paul, Minnesota.<br />
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But arriving home to Houston, despite how full I may have been, those first couple of days, I felt ragged— inside and out.<br />
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Moving home has been a daunting task for me. I felt that there were so many things left incomplete or unfinished in San Marcos. Suddenly, what had been home for the last four years wasn't home anymore. I was afraid of this time set apart and what was in store, but reading this verse I realized what opportunity I have laying at my feet. I have an opportunity to spend these next four months deep cleaning myself. The Lord has set me at the sink and asked me to not worry about what else may be going on outside the kitchen. For now, just focus on the dishes.<br />
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So here I am sitting in bed with my cat snoozing by my laptop. I have a cup of Sleepytime beside me and I have just pressed submit to my final course at Texas State (praise the Lord for online classes) and to receiving my diploma in December. I have so many plans swirling in my mind for the future (in my typical INFJ fashion), but I'm learning what it means to lay those aside and trust in the timing of the Lord. Once the dishes are done, He'll show me what I'm to do next, but I want a clean cup. I desire a well-ordered life. I desire a life centered on Christ. I want my bed and room and smile and dishes to all be outward signs of the inward order that I am working on. So here's to tackling the mess these next few months and seeing what He has in store. I'm looking forward to looking back in January with a sense of accomplishment and pride and exclaiming, "Lord, you did all that?!"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-65734389361175614852015-02-16T10:13:00.000-08:002016-06-10T13:56:40.857-07:00Love bears all thingsIn preparation for Lent, which heads up starts this Wednesday, I have been spending time in prayer asking the Lord how it is that He wishes for me to grow. This last year has been so full of change, transition, and growth. In my last blog post (which you can find <a href="http://thresholdtohappiness.blogspot.com/2015/01/how-does-your-garden-grow.html" target="_blank">here</a>), I spoke of pruning and how the Lord has been asking me to give up things that aren't so easy to give up.<br />
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Lent is a perfect time for this idea of pruning to come up. The Lord has told me that he wants to cut my branches and tend to me, but what is it that He is asking for me to give up?</div>
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This Lent, I am going to give people the benefit of the doubt. When someone has wounded me, it takes so much for me to let that regression go and move on. In my prayer journal, upon examination of this habit of holding a grudge, I went on to explain it this way: I have this bag with me at all times and sometimes I open it up, take out a wound that I have "let go," and just look at it and remember how much it hurt. Am I really letting things go, or am I just harboring old wounds to bring back later? Am I really forgiving my brother?<br />
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In Matthew, we hear what Jesus says about this:</div>
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"Then Peter approaching asked him, "Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As much as seven times?"</blockquote>
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Jesus answered, "I say to you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times." </blockquote>
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<i>Matthew 18:21-22</i></blockquote>
Jesus wants us to love our brother without limits. He wants us to continually give our brother the benefit of the doubt. As many times as we have been wounded, we must choose the better part and forgive. Love, as St. Paul writes 1 Corinthians, "It is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."<br />
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Love bears all things. That means we bear the wounds that have been given to us. Think of Christ on the Cross, he wore our wounds, our sins, on Him in the most real and tangible way. He did that because He loves us. As many times as we sinned against Him, marring His most precious Body, He forgave us. He chose in that moment to love us and let it go. He chose to bear that wound.<br />
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And that is where Lent culminates: on the Cross. Our entire faith comes down to this moment where Love bore all, where Love rejoiced not over wrongdoing but with the truth. Love was chosen more than even seventy-seven times. Christ chose eternity. He chose to love because He is Love.<br />
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I put this image of the Crucifixion to the right by Marc Chagall called <i>White Crucifixion</i>. Christ's on the Cross is surrounded by suffering of Jewish people (Chagall was a Jew and this painting was a response to Kristallnacht). The evils we commit against our brothers and the anger we harbor are able to become such a tangible reality in relation to the Cross in this painting for myself. Love bears all. Love chooses to love seventy times seven.<br />
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This Lent, I challenge you when someone is late to think to yourself, "Well, they probably have a reason for it." When your brother says something insensitive, remind yourself, "He probably had no idea that I was so sensitive about that topic."<br />
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What are you giving up— or taking up— this Lent?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-17119765485356396652015-01-29T10:06:00.002-08:002016-06-10T13:56:50.602-07:00How does your garden grow?And finally, I write to you, happy new year! I wish one of my new year's resolutions were to blog more frequently, but with a full plate, it is not only good but right to let some things slide. It seems that as the Lord continues to grow the garden in my heart, He also has to prune and pull the weeds. It's not the weeds that are difficult to let go, but sometimes pruning can be a pain.<br />
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"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and everyone that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit. You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you. Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing."<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">—</span><i> John 15:1-5</i></blockquote>
The Lord has given me, and every one of us, a promise that if we allow Him to, he will allow our lives to flourish. Sometimes we hold on to people, things, or sins that are dead or overgrown. He is not taking these things away because He wants to see us unhappy, but because He love us! He is the greatest gardener and knows the fruit that this will bring us, the new life we will find.<br />
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In Texas, it's been back in forth in the weather with sunny afternoons reaching into the seventies and rainy, dreary days dipping back into the forties. But this is a sign of spring coming. And we must allow the Lord to prepare us for new life. Many plants are supposed to be pruned in the late winter, as they lay dormant. We too should come to the Lord and ask him to begin to prepare our gardens.<br />
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As a young girl, one of my favorite movies to watch was <i>The Secret Garden. </i>Every time I was over at my grandmother's house, I would want to watch the movie and see not only the discovered garden grow but the characters as well. A scene has always stuck with me shows the discovery of the secret garden. Dickon, a young stable boy, takes one of the branches that seems to surely be dead and cuts it with his knife, inside he shows that there is still life as the tree contains a green color to it. Mary, excited with the prospect that there is hope underneath the chaos and decay of the garden left to ruin, exclaims, "I'm glad it's wick! I want them all to be wick. Let us go round the garden and count how many wick ones there are."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42mROvafNs7YGkJFsSaHz2VWExptNPat9qkXw-L-pX16nPFgZExpKuX2tDsj4crFZS33WiCnbFy0eLbZHCZprC2k7qUNb7xzuO_X3rJQ5kn59QAMRaJczsiWUczpoRGksKYMHq8qP2Io/s1600/the-secret-gardena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>I'm not saying that it is not painful. Sometimes it really hurts to let go of things we've held on so tightly to, but the Lord is promising new life. <i>"Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing." </i>There is much fruit to be had, but we have to take the decay and chaos that is flooding our hearts. Like the secret garden, we have left parts of our heart to be left to ruin behind locked doors. But by opening these doors and allowing the Lord in, we can find new life lying underneath. We can run around finding the hope that comes with new life, proclaiming as Dickon did inside the garden that, "There will be a fountain of roses here this summer."<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-11567625476231528652014-11-17T14:26:00.000-08:002016-06-10T13:56:57.732-07:00Anyway<div style="text-align: -webkit-center;">
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People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;</div>
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<i>Forgive them anyway.</i></div>
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If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;</div>
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<i>Be kind anyway.</i></div>
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If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;</div>
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<i>Succeed anyway.</i><br />
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If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;</div>
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<i>Be honest and frank anyway.</i></div>
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What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;</div>
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<i>Build anyway.</i></div>
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If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;</div>
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<i>Be happy anyway.</i></div>
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The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;</div>
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<i>Do good anyway.</i></div>
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Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;</div>
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<i>Give the world the best you've got anyway.</i></div>
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You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;</div>
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<i>It was never between you and them anyway.</i><br />
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This is small note on my blog today, but it's an important one. People are going to hurt you, whether intentionally or not. But what happens when I let these things stand in my way? I fail. What marks my failure is the fact that I never even tried. Letting these things stand in my way prevents me from putting myself out there to be hurt. I begin to raise a wall to protect my ego from being damaged. I cannot allow other people's thoughts and actions to stand in the way of the plans the Lord. Often times, He even places these people in my life, not as an obstacle, but as another person that He has intended for me to love. Even if they hurt me, even if they forget what I've done, even if they never say thank you, what matters is that I have poured myself out and given of myself fully. I cannot let these things destroy me. I have to give the world the best I have anyway because it was never between these people and myself anyway.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-87849768200274915662014-10-08T14:30:00.002-07:002016-06-10T13:57:39.896-07:00#notsorrynotsorry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So Pantene came out with a new commercial this summer that at first made me fist pump in the air like a fool with a resounding, <b>"YES!"</b> Women apologizing for <i>simply existing</i> is something that I've been noticing as a trend for the last year or so. <i>And it breaks my heart.</i></div>
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When I joined a women's small group with SPO, my small group leader (shout out to Leanna) gave us one rule within our meetings that we could not apologize. I caught myself time and time again, apologizing for one menial thing or the next: for arriving too early or too late, for wanting to speak up or not being sure just exactly what it was that I wanted to say. Again and again, the women with who's lives I was sharing mine gave me an encouraging smile and a sweet reminder to not say, "I'm sorry."</div>
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Here's the Pantene commercial for you to watch before we go into the next part of this blog post:</div>
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Empowering, right? I thought so too until I rewatched it and heard what the women say at the end. Which is a phrase I am <b>so guilty</b> of hashtagging one too many times on Instagram and Twitter: <i><b>#sorrynotsorry</b></i>.</div>
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That phrase seems to be a solvent for women apologizing, but it's quite the opposite. Instead of its intended purpose of building women up, it just continues this cycle of apologizing <i>over nothing</i>. By saying or tweeting that or whatever, you are <b><i>APOLOGIZING FOR NOT APOLOGIZING</i></b>. Wait, what? Yeah, mind blown,<b> kapow</b>! This isn't some clever phrase to break the cycle. If anything, it just fuels the flames feeding into women's need to excuse themselves for having a differing opinion, taking up their own space, and demanding to heard.</div>
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Having an opinion, even a differing opinion is a beautiful thing. It sparks dialogue and creates the beautiful, confusing, complicated world we live in. Don't apologize for that. Don't apologize for having your own beliefs. Stand up for them! Own them! Now, does this mean you need to be in someone's face about them? No, no, no. If that's what you think I'm saying, you have me mistaken. But you shouldn't say sorry for disagreeing.</div>
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Let's the leave the apologies for when things matter. When we hurt a friend or loved one, of course we should apologize. Let's the leave the word "sorry" for these times. Not only will it allow us to stand up for ourselves as I said early, but it also allows the words we do say- those times when we do say, "I'm sorry"- to mean <i>so much more</i>.</div>
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Maybe you think I'm taking this whole thing too seriously, but it hurts me when I see women shrink back, afraid to speak up. <b><i>I want to be heard.</i></b> And I want others to be heard as well. I want to listen to you, to see what you see, and gain a new perspective. <b><i>So stop apologizing!</i></b> Extend this rule from my small group into your own life. Tell yourself, your friends, and your families to stop apologizing for existing. Tell them that you love their existence, differences and all!</div>
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Post scriptum: So I am running my own small group this year and supplemented a couple of added "rules" to it in addition to the "I'm sorry" rule. We also do not say, "Does that make sense?" or "That's stupid/dumb," regarding the things we say because: 1) I want us to feel able to express ourselves so fully that there's no need to ask if the rest of us understand (if we don't understand, we'll ask questions because it means there's more left for you to work out), and 2) Our feelings and thoughts are valid and beautiful, not stupid and we shouldn't use this sort of negative self-talk.</div>
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Let me know if there are any phrases you thought of or already have thrown out of your own life!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-55715159538137860752014-09-23T14:54:00.002-07:002016-06-10T13:57:48.128-07:00What's That On Your Head? Or Wearing a Chapel Veil.A few months ago, I felt a call to begin to veil myself during the Mass. It was after I had completed my Consecration to Mary, which is a whole other blog post to write on another day. I get asked regularly why it is that I veil myself. I believe it is an important thing to have literature for women to look to about this calling and understand it more fully.<br />
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First, what is a veil? For those of you who don't know, a veil (or mantilla as some refer to it), is a veil worn on the head of a woman during Mass or when in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament (read: Adoration). This practice is seen as being no longer obligatory due to the changes made in Vatican II in 1959, but contrary to this popular belief, there was nothing saying that it was no longer an obligation. Does this mean that all women that don't wear it have fallen out with the Catholic Church? Nope. But just know that the Church does still encourage and support this practice.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jackie Kennedy looking beautiful in her mantilla</td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a>So what lead to my own conviction of this practice?<br />
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It's a two-fold answer:</div>
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First, obedience and humility. During my Consecration to Mary, I was beginning to see more and more the beauty in obedience and humility. Here is a woman who was strong and intelligent-- enough so to not only know that Jesus could perform a miracle at the wedding feast of Cana but to expect him to do so even after he had told her, "Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come" (John 2:4). Despite this, she still was ever humble and obedient to the God, as she is known as the fiat. Fiat was the Latin word used for Mary's yes as she said, "Let it be done according to your word" (Luke 1:38). She continued to show this obedience to God by raising Christ and staying by Him even to His dying breath on the cross. Her humility is evident that even though she is known as the Queen of Heaven and Earth, she is still human and embraces her humanity.</div>
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As a woman, I strive to imitate our Blessed Mother in her example as a humble and obedient woman when I attend Mass by veiling myself. Although I worried at first about drawing attention to myself, I have realized that what it does is draw attention to the Truth in the Mass-- the True Presence of Christ. For a woman to cover her head shows the significance of the Mass. As women, we often are concerned with our appearances, but the veil covers your head-- which let's all be honest and admit that we've caught ourselves fixing our hair in Mass-- and causes you to focus on the present moment and the reason that you are in the chapel in the first place: Christ.</div>
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Which brings me to my second, and even more important, reason: The Eucharist. As a Catholic, I believe that Christ is present-- body, blood, soul, and divinity-- in the Eucharist at Mass. I believe that every time I receive the Eucharist, I consummate the relationship I have with Him. My relationship with Christ is every bit as real and intimate as it is with a husband. He is, as Fulton Sheen called Him, the Tremendous Lover. That name for Christ completed this decision of mine because it allowed me to realize the truth, which is that as a member of the Church, Christ is my bridegroom. When I receive Him, I am taking part in the greatest wedding feast and able to consummate this love that we share in a very real and tangible way. So as a bride, why would I not want to veil myself? It is an outward sign of my inward joy, of just how special an occasion this is! It is a symbol of my devotion and commitment to this relationship I have.</div>
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So there you have it, why I wear my mantilla to Mass. I know that many people feel uncomfortable confronting someone, especially a stranger, about something that seems so intimate, but I feel that it's important to have something that women can read more about, especially something that's actually written by a woman.</div>
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I wanted to end with follow up articles from other women on why they wear their veil, but I was unable to find any great resources on this. Many were written by men, so link them below in a comment!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-84138673772629804172014-07-29T14:46:00.004-07:002016-06-10T13:58:10.620-07:00I Am, It Is<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Living in
Texas, every evening is a reason to celebrate because the sun setting in the
sky is one of the most magnificent things you will ever see. There are songs
written about it, “if you haven’t seen a hill country sunset, you ain’t met me
Texas yet,” (thanks JAB). There are Instagram hastags devoted to it—#nofilter
#texasforever. And yet, when we see these scenes, what do we automatically
think?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“That looks
like a painting!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“It looks
like it’s in HD!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Wait, hold
up, what? Real life looks like what?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you stop
to think about it, these unfiltered photos don’t look like a painting. These
sunsets, or any other beautiful landscapes, don’t look like they’re in HD. The
images in HD, the paintings we see in museums, are made to imitate real life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As a
Christian, I feel as if we are insulting God when we think these things because
we’re saying that He, the Creator of the Universe, the maker of the sun and
stars, is imitating something made by man. This kind of thinking needs to be
reversed! We need to be automatically thinking:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Wow! Not
even a painting could justify this sunset!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“The clarity
of my TV can’t even begin to compare to the clarity of these clouds!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Oscar Wilde
introduced an argument in his essay, The Decay of Lying, in 1889 that “Life
imitates Art more than Art imitates Life.” He argues that we wouldn’t see the London
fog (or a Texas sunset in the case of this blog) as beautiful without the songs
written or artwork painted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">At
present, people see fogs, not because there are fogs, but because poets and
painters have taught them the mysterious loveliness of such effects. There may
have been fogs for centuries in London. I dare say there were. But no one saw
them, and so we do not know anything about them. They did not exist till Art
had invented them.<span class="apple-converted-space"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have
really been battling, as an artist, to reconcile how and why I see the world
the way I do. Do I see things the way they are because I’ve been conditioned
to? Do I see them for what they are? Does life imitate art? Does art imitate
life?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But what I
really need to do is reconcile this with my belief in God. If I believe that
there is a God, then this goes back to the first part of this blog post: “Not
even a painting could justify this sunset!” Art has to be the imitation of life
because to be anything less would be not just an insult to the faith I
proclaim, but a rejection of it. To believe that a sunset would be anything
less than beautiful because I don’t have any realization of it would be saying
that God did not create the beautiful sunset but I did through my awareness of
it. I am not God. I do not create these beautiful things. I am simply a spectator
of creation. Art imitates life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-2344908181199676462014-06-27T14:59:00.000-07:002014-06-27T15:00:44.669-07:00From Where I StandSometimes moving on means assessing where we are. How often when we're lost do we stop to see where we are before deciding which way to turn? For myself, I have made decisions without assessing where I'm coming from and where I intend to go. So instead, I have made a conscience decision to see where I stand and have understood that where I stand is a threshold to happiness.<br />
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I chose my blog name– Threshold to Happiness– because I long for fulfillment and peace in my life, but this is something I need to choose everyday. I need to choose happiness. Choose joy. Choose God. The biggest part of finding this kind of fulfillment cannot be found on this blog, but rather by going outside and soaking up some vitamin d, spending time drinking coffee and sharing my heart with a good friend, and taking a bubble bath on a Friday afternoon. More importantly, I have found that true fulfillment means seeking Christ in all ways. I'm by no means perfect, but this blog is another way of helping me navigate and understand the things I've learned in my own life.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-69280997997103096832014-06-26T15:33:00.002-07:002016-06-10T13:58:22.490-07:00Jars of Clay<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"When the wine ran short, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” Jesus said to her, “Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now there were six stone water jars there for Jewish ceremonial washings, each holding twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus told them, “Fill the jars with water.” So they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, “Draw some out now and take it to the headwaiter.” So they took it. And when the headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine, without knowing where it came from (although the servers who had drawn the water knew), the headwaiter called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves good wine first, and then when people have drunk freely, an inferior one; but you have kept the good wine until now.” Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs in Cana in Galilee and so revealed his glory, and his disciples began to believe in him.”<br />
John 2:3-11</blockquote>
Christ's first miracle and our first encounter of His ministry is an incredible account, but how does it relate to us on a practical level?<br />
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Each of us contain aspects of ourselves that are strong, and these containers are the ones we can imagine to be filled, maybe even so filled that they spill over. But there are other parts of our hearts that are empty, the weaknesses we find ourselves trying to fulfill on our own. Christ asks for us to bring these empty jars to Him saying, "Fill the jars with water." He asks for our weaknesses because He can fill these empty spaces.<br />
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Why would we not want He who is the True Vine and Living Water to fill us with His water rather than our own? The water we provide ourselves is unconsecrated and full of impurities. Why settle when we can be filled with the clearest, cleanest water from our Bridgegroom? "To still waters He leads me; He restores my soul" (Psalm 23:2-3).<br />
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This is not to say that our jars that are full are not put to good use. Just as He transformed the jars of water into wine at the wedding feast at Cana, he transforms our own clay jars as well. We have filled these jars, but He makes them rich and sweet leaving us saying, "You have kept the good wine until now." Christ transforms us and makes the gifts we have been given richer and greater than anything we can imagine.<br />
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The gifts He has given, we are called to share. But Christ allows us to not stop with quenching the thirst in others for Truth-- He does not just provide us with water. We are able to give them a beautiful gift of wine. We can present this thing of beauty to them that not only satisfies our thirst, but the Truth we are given is something we can delight in.<br />
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Let your jars overflow. Let Christ fill those that are empty and transform those that are full into something sweeter than any fruit we have tasted.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273180679641635516.post-65941023987014150822014-02-10T14:52:00.001-08:002014-02-10T14:52:17.773-08:00Call Me a BirdWe've all had a conversation with a friend where we ponder what the other would be if they were an animal. It may because of a physical feature that lends to a certain animal or their demeanor, but typically there is an animal that comes right to mind. Most of the time, I consider myself a cat. I love sleeping and have moments of high energy, but for the most part, a warm blanket and silence are my two favorite things. It also helps that my nickname for most my childhood was Alli Cat.<br />
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Well, I finally cleaned my room this afternoon. My desk has been covered with crap since I moved in here nearly two years ago. I think I've studied on it all of three times. I am such a hoarder. I have a sentimental heart and fret when it comes to giving or throwing things away. The memories attached to them cause them to stay long past their due.<br />
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At the age of twenty one, I have furnished the entire downstairs of my apartment on my own. My mom says I'm "nesting," but guys, this is more than a TV, couch, and coffee table. It looks like a home. I am not just the typical college apartment dweller. There's no room for a beer pong table. I live like I'm already thirty and settled down.<br />
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<a href="http://codinghorror.typepad.com/.a/6a0120a85dcdae970b0120a86d957f970b-pi" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://codinghorror.typepad.com/.a/6a0120a85dcdae970b0120a86d957f970b-pi" height="203" width="320" /></a>Reflecting on this, I realized that the more accurate animal to compare myself to would be a Magpie.<br />
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It's funny because before this I already had a fascination with Crows more than any other bird. I love their beautiful black wings. The way their wings reflect the sun bringing out blues and purples, that iridescence, is mesmerizing to me. Come to find out, Magpies are in the Crow family.<br />
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So, if you had to think of yourself as an animal, what would you be, and why?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17967773831323933076noreply@blogger.com0