Joy Comes In the Morning

I 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.”

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.

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.

The Lenten season brought about great fruits of understanding discipline and responsibility in my life. The drudgery of existence is hard. 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 complacency and contentedness. I find myself acutely aware of just how afraid I am of what God spoke into my heart just a week before Lent began: PROVISION. The word clearly written on my heart—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.”

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:

“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?”

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. How have I been able to believe then that my life is made to be any less than a vibrant, unique, and unforgettable adventure?

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—freedom to bask in the beauty of their Creator and attempting by any means possible to partake in the riches of His imagination.

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, but joy comes with the morning."

Refusing the Lie

What's the lie that you believe?

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?

"You will never experience sisterhood."

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.

"God didn't give you a sister as a child because you weren't created for sisterhood."

"You live by yourself because you don't deserve to experience life lived with other women."

"You won't ever experience the deep relationships of sisterhood."

"The relationships you have with other women are not made to last. They do not stand firm."

"If you have daughters, you will fail them as a mother because of this."

The Virtue of Waiting

It 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.

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.

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 Making a Murderer 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.

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!

The Measuring Stick of Success

Someone I know recently asked: How do you measure success?

One person suggested that they would see themselves as successful when they were featured on Ellen. I found several other people suggesting that success came with happiness.

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.

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.

So here I am again, walking my parent's dog and asking myself: How do I measure success?

Ellen? Happiness? Fulfillment?

Getting Schooled

Two 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.

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:

Daily Virtue

Between 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 thanks be to God for making an even better day out of my Wednesday.

I went into the chapel and opened up the browser on my phone to BlessedIsShe's daily devotion, which all you ladies should check out. The day's reflection was called On the Journey based on Luke 9:1-6 and asked, "How is God calling you to proclaim the Kingdom?"

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.

As I was driving home this week, a phrase came to me about what I'm gaining from this semester at home: daily virtue. I am constantly doing the opposite of what I want to do. I do not want to wake up at 4:30 to make it work on time. I do not want to make my bed before I've even had time for coffee. I do not want to pray a Rosary in the morning when I barely have the brain cells to form sentences. I do not want to work on my school work during my break from work.

More than anything, I do not want to answer this call I have to love others unceasingly. It is so difficult to love my mom when I'm exhausted and dinner isn't ready yet. It is so difficult 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 so difficult 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.

But. BUT.

Orienting My Heart

What 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.

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.

Seriously, this is the picture I got on the Christmas tree

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.

Love bears all things

In 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 here), I spoke of pruning and how the Lord has been asking me to give up things that aren't so easy to give up.

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?

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?

How 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.

"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."
— John 15:1-5

 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.

Anyway

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

#notsorrynotsorry

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, "YES!" Women apologizing for simply existing is something that I've been noticing as a trend for the last year or so. And it breaks my heart.

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."

Here's the Pantene commercial for you to watch before we go into the next part of this blog post:

What'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.

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.

Jackie Kennedy looking beautiful in her mantilla

I Am, It Is

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?

“That looks like a painting!”

“It looks like it’s in HD!”

Wait, hold up, what? Real life looks like what?

From Where I Stand

Sometimes 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.

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.

Jars of Clay

"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.”
John 2:3-11

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?

Call Me a Bird

We'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.

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.

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.

Reflecting on this, I realized that the more accurate animal to compare myself to would be a Magpie.

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.

So, if you had to think of yourself as an animal, what would you be, and why?